Narcisis

Die nimf Eggo wat jy roep,
Herhaal die waardelose woorde,
Die klanke wat so oor jou tong galop.


Sy lok jou
verder en verder..
Weg van die regte weg.
Totdat jy,
jagter,
kenner van die aarde,
verdwaal het in jou eie kop.


Hoe kon dit so gebeur,
Hoe so gemerk,
hoe so bestem?


Bo-tone in die stem se klanke,
Kinkels in die brein se denke,
Dit alles klink tog so bekend...
Dit alles maak so SIN!


Dit voer jou t'rug..



Na tye..
toe die Muse haar nie van jou verskuil het nie.

Na plekke..
waar niemand nog jou naam gehoor het nie.

Na mense..
wat nie vir jou ontboesemings gelag het nie.

En ander..
wat hul aan jou ratsheid verkyk het.

Na dames..
wat jou danse geniet het.

En ander..
wat hul aan jou lyf vergryp het.



Die pad waarlangs die stem (van Eggo?) hom lei,
Neem hom by 'n helder stroom verby.
Hy's dors,
die poel die skitter soos gesnyde loodkristal.
Hy buk,
tot op sy kniee om die lawende water by te kom.
Hy drink,
maar in die varsversteurde spieël van water soos kristal,
sien hy die beeld...


Sy blik verstar,
Sy lyf versteen
En op sy kniee bly hy staar.


Die beeld, die stem, die sinne, die klank,
Als so perfek, in lyn, in plek.
SY denke,
SY sinne,
SY stellings,
sy ALLES.


Hoe kan dit wees,
Dat daar 'n ander wese was
Wat spesifiek by hom so goed kon pas?


Eggo, die muse van sy drome:
Die stem, die beeld, die sin,
die redenasie van haar brein,
die doen- en late van hul samesyn...


Nemesis het haar gestuur,
nie Muse nie,
maar Nimf. 
'n hersinskim,
'n kloon,
'n breinfrekwensieinterferensiepatroon.


'n Lelie, ja,
die Affodil,
is nou 'n sinnoniem vir jul:


Narcisis, egoïs.


Die Toekomsbepaler sou:
Gebrek aan visie,
verspeelde jeug,
misplaasde trou,
Bitter-soet verliefdheid van jou..
(op 'n sinnelose refleksie!!) 

Dit alles...

Vaslê in die eggo van jou Ego-obsessie

Monoloog in 'n spieël

Hy:
Waar is my muse
Waar my inspirasie


Hoe moet ek skryf 
As alles in my dof is


Die helder lig
Die vuurtoring
Die lorelei
Die skeepswrakmaker


Jy was, 
vir 'n tydjie,
Weer soos die smaak
Van vars appelsap
Vervrissend op die tong


Die klank van jou stem
Die skerpheid van jou skryfstyl
Die opwinding in jou stemtoon
Wat jy nie kon onderdruk 
Toe jy met my gepraat het
Toe jy my gebel het
toe jou poging, 
om my agter die masker
uit te pluk,
nie geslaag het nie.  


Jy't gese:"Ek soek Koos Smit."
Ek's nou nog seker? 
dit was 'n set... 
Dis die nuuskierigheid wat  
jou so opgevreet het.....
Jy kon nie glo 
dat 'n man jou so 
lank kon weerstaan 
Selfs al het jy hom goed laat verstaan
Dat hy jou sou kry
As hy tog net die masker laat gly


Die waarheid? 
Of... 
soos hy dit sien:


Jy maak 'n lewe deur 
ander se skanse af te breek
Hul duister motiewe bloot te lê
Die waarheid te ontklee,
Tot dit soos gebleikte geraamtes in die kaste staan(of lê): nakend, 
sonder kleed of vlees. 
Jy maak staat op logika 
en redenasie vir díe aksie,
Maar dit verlaat jou in jou soeke na satisfaksie. 


Jy glo dit wat die feeverhaal
sou waarmaak
Die vermiste skakel sou openbaarmaak. 
Nie dit wat die feite jou moet wysmaak. 


In sake van die hart
het jy al soveel keer die smart 
van leuens en valsheid moes verduur
Dat jy nie meer die reëls 
Van logika kan respekteer. 
By een soek jy te veel
By die ander weer te min.
Soms gooi jy tou op prematuur,
Soms gee jy 'n blow job 
plaas van dit opgee vir 'n bad job  


SY: (Volgens hom)
Waar is die een wat my
soos myself sal kan bemin?
Ek swaai, 
heen-en-weer, 
vervaard.  
Van buite lyk ek heel bedaard
Die pendulum hou tyd,
Beskryf nog eens die hartklop 
in die dae van my benoudheid. 
Ek swaai van koel na koud na warm...
Maar is daar werklik iemand wat my graag sou wou omarm?


Net terwille van myself
Nie vir my status, lyf, my geld?
Is daar nie ook vir my 'n held?


Ek vind hom wel,
Ek het gedog hy sou kon bly..
Maar toe het hy 
ook maar weer voete van klei. 
Hy kon toe nie 
In sy gewoontes, 
sy sienings, 
met my sienings, 
my gewoontes
Swaelstert nie. 


Hoewel....
Hy kan dans,
Hy kan soen, 
Hy kan selfs die skaakspel doen


Sy grootste swakheid in my oë, 
die het hy toe oorwin, sien ek. 
Die tweede sonde ook, 
so blyk dit nou,
Maar steeds is hy nie myne nie
Sal nooit kan wees nie,
Wil ook nie. Of wil hy wel? 
Sal hy weer hierheen wil kom? 


Vergeet, vergeet, hy moet vergeet
van lief en leed, van pas en meet. 
Ek wil ook nie dat hy dit weet,
dat soms, 
net soms,
ek WEL 'n bietjie dink aan hom...

You Just Don't Understand by Deborah Tannen, Ph.D.

You Just Don't Understand
by Deborah Tannen, Ph.D.

William Morrow and Company, 1990

Reviewed by Laura Morrison

That men and women are on different wavelengths when it comes to communicating is probably not news to you. However, "Can We Talk?" the cover story of the December issue of New Age Journal, provides some excellent new perspectives on this age-old problem. The author, Peggy Taylor, interviewed sociolinguist Deborah Tannen, who has written a book called You Just Don't Understand: Women and Men in Conversation. Tannen's research shows that the differences between the communication styles of men and women go far beyond mere socialization, and appear to be inherent in the basic make up of each sex.

Tannen first noticed these differences when studying videotapes another researcher had made of best friends asked to have a conversation together. In contrast to the girls, boys were extremely uncomfortable with this request. Girls in all age groups would face each other and immediately began to talk, eventually ending up discussing the problems of one girl. Boys, on the other hand, sat parallel to each other and would jump from topic to topic--centered around a time when they would do something together.

Tannen observed that,

"For males, conversation is the way you negotiate your status in the group and keep people from pushing you around; you use talk to preserve your independence. Females, on the other hand, use conversation to negotiate closeness and intimacy; talk is the essence of intimacy, so being best friends means sitting and talking. For boys, activities, doing things together, are central. Just sitting and talking is not an essential part of friendship. They're friends with the boys they do things with."

It's not hard, from even these simple observations, to see the potential problems when men and women communicate. Women create feelings of closeness by conversing with their friends and lovers. Men don't use communication in this way, so they can't figure out why their women are continually talk, talk, talking. Eventually, many men just tune their women out. The ubiquitous image of the housewife at the breakfast table talking to her husband who has his head buried in the newspaper comes to mind.

Tannen notes that men are confused by the various ways women use conversation to be intimate with others. One of these ways she calls "troubles talk." She says, "For women, talking about troubles is the essence of connection. I tell you my troubles, you tell me your troubles, and we're close. Men, however, hear troubles talk as a request for advice, so they respond with a solution." When a man offers this kind of information the woman often feels as if he is trying to diminish her problem or cut her off.

In his eyes, he's being supportive, because men don't talk to each other about their troubles unless they really do want a solution; talking about their problems is wallowing in them. The man doesn't realize that his woman was simply trying to establish a certain kind of intimacy with him--inviting him to reciprocate and share himself with her. Because of these essential differences in approach, Tannen says that the most common complaint she hears from men about women "...is that women complain all the time and don't want to do anything about it...Men misunderstand the ritual nature of women's complaining."

An interesting dance emerges from these different approaches: The woman, craving closeness and intimacy with her man, talks to him about her problems with friends, family, her job, etc. She seeks to have her man respond as her girlfriends have always done, and talk with her about his concerns. The man, however, hears these conversations as requests for advice, not intimacy. He considers the problem and offers a solution, or dismisses the issue, as the boys he knew always did. When his woman continues to go on about these same concerns, showing no movement to consider his advice, he becomes confused and eventually angry; he begins to believe that his woman is an expert at talking about nothing. The woman begins to feel that her man doesn't care about her because he won't talk to her in a way that feels intimate.

It is important for women to understand that men's communicating is all about status. Think about all those nature shows you've ever seen on PBS. The prime goal of male beasties is to be able to mate; to do this they must be powerful enough to challenge the lead males in the herd. As they grow up, they bide their time by establishing a pecking order. When a beastie is big and strong enough to have most of the other males "under" him, he is ready to take on the "old man." If he wins the fight, he gets to mate with the females of his choice (and they will mate only with him).

Tannen has found that human males behave in exactly the same way. She discussed the research of Marjorie Goodwin, who studied boys in Philadelphia for a year and a half. "She found that boys give orders as a way of gaining social status. The high-status boys gave orders just to maintain their dominance, not because they particularly needed the thing done. And the boys who were being told what to do were low status, by virtue of doing what they were told."

This dynamic is important to remember when looking at another major area of miscommunication between men and women. Women cannot understand the resistance men seem to have when asked for assistance or consideration of some kind or another. Women must remember the above scenario and understand that, for men, doing what they're asked to do means they have lost status in that relationship. Men often feel that women are trying to manipulate them. What a woman might see as a simple request--no big deal-- is seen by her man an attempt to manipulate him into a "one-down" position.

Tannen discusses this issue further:

"Women want men to do what we want. We want them to want to do what we want, because that's what we do. If a woman perceives that something she's doing is really hurting a man, she wants to stop doing it. If she perceives that he really wants her to do something, she wants to do it. She thinks that that's love and he should feel the same way about her. But men have a gut-level resistance to doing what they're told, to doing what someone expects them to do. It's the opposite response of what women have." She reminds readers that, of course, there are men who are very helpful toward their women. "But if a man is going to be touchy, it's more likely to go in that direction. Whereas if a woman is insecure, she's more likely to go in the other direction, [and] be super- accommodating."

In sharp contrast to the communication style of men, which seeks to establish and maintain status and dominance, women's communicating is more egalitarian, or rule-by-consensus. When women get together they seek the input of the other women present and make decisions based on the wishes of all. Tannen notes that this type of communication style is becoming more important, and is in alignment with the Japanese style of management. Men doing business with Japanese companies often have to radically change their style of communicating to accommodate the more personal and intimate approach of the Japanese businessman.

One may get the impression from this discussion that women's style of communicating is superior to men's. Indeed, since the dawning of the women's movement there have been many declaring that men just don't know how to communicate (because they don't communicate like women). Sensitivity courses galore have been offered in hopes of teaching men to communicate more like women. However, Tannen states that there is nothing pathological about men's style of communication, and that women's communicating also has it's down-sides.

One fact I found particularly fascinating follows from women's communication style of consensus-building. With women, consensus means thinking alike, being in agreement, being the SAME! When one woman in a group decides to go her own way in some matter, there is often trouble: "If a girl does something the other girls don't like, she'll be criticized, or even ostracized...What do girls put other girls down for? For standing out, for seeming better than the others...I mean, really--no wonder people talk about women's fear of success!" In shock, Peggy Taylor, asked, "So you're saying the female mode prevents excellence?" And Tannen replied, "It prevents displaying it."

Pretty interesting, eh? I imagine that there are a fair number of women out there who have experienced that kind of isolation from their friends(?) at some time in their lives. It is unfortunate that exceptional women not only find themselves up against men who are threatened by their success, but are often faced with their sisters throwing stones in their path too. This need for consensus--for being alike--is something women need to explore further if we sincerely wish to support each other in advancing our individual goals and dreams.

In closing, Tannen makes the point that both sexes need to understand the inherent differences in their communication styles so that they don't expect the impossible. There is middle ground where men and women can meet and find understanding. Women must learn that the kind of intimate talk they have with their girlfriends should remain just that. Trying to turn your man into a girlfriend will usually fail because men, in general, don't create feelings of closeness in that way. Men, too can understand that when their woman is talking, she is attempting to connect to him--she's not just talking to talk, nor is she trying to readjust the status of their relationship. By sharing more of himself he shows her, in a way she can understand, that he's not pushing her away; that he does indeed love her and want to be close to her.

After reading this article, it's easy to see that a major source of fuel for the battle between the sexes is this vastly different way of communicating. Perhaps if men stopped expecting women to communicate like men, and women stopped trying to get men to communicate like women, we would have enough energy left to appreciate how each sex compliments the other in a wonderful way. Life would be pretty boring if men and women were the same (and I'm not referring to naughty bits here!) Viva la difference-- what a challenging way to learn about life and each other!

Ek, of "Die EK"?

Ek sou,
graag 'n foto,
vir jou...
wou maak,
van my. 
Maar .....
As ek probeer,
loop ek my
in fisiese beperkings van die heelal vas.
So ek skryf dan eerder iets,
publiseer dit op 'n blog,
of bêre in geheime kas....

Die patrone van fotone,
gefokus deur glaslense,
op elektroniese sensore,
of soos in die verdere verlede,
silwernitraat atome,
(Ja ek weet dis molekules, nie atome!)
die kan nie wys,
wat die brein se prentjie wys...
Nie die paadjies in my kop,
nie die koue ysspore  in my dop.
Die prente, beelde wat ek sien,
is meer gevoel as sig, jy sien?

Dis spore, paadjies, beelde, woorde.
Dit saam maak die gedagtedraaie,
denkakoorde.
Of dit die waarheid werklik is,
die weet ek nie so heel beslis,
maar dit maak vir my tog sin,
dit pas my Nou, my Wil, my redenasie.
Dit stu my voort na 'n ewige begin.

So verskoning, Nee,
die vra ek nie.
Vir my is dit wat in my brein kan broei,
meer waar en werklik as die son wat buite gloei!

Colours in the dark

I am intrigued by colour. Especially when it is in an unusual surrounding, like photography with polarisers and filters. It sometimes results in a very dark, almost black background, giving an eerie feeling to the scene. Especially when the colours in the foreground is a vivid green or red. 
One can see that it is not done at night, because of the brightness of the colour. No black and whiting or greys as one sees at night without a light. Sometimes one can get a similar effect at night when using a flash if the background is far enough distant not to be lit by the flash. 
Usually it does not have the same effect. Polarisers work well to darken the sky, giving a "night at daytime" effect like you get naturally when a big storm is brewing or the eerie light that comes with a partial solar eclipse. 
It is really amazing that the colour that one perceives can set the mood for a scene. Especially if one keeps in mind that colour is actually just different frequencies of light, which in turn is actually just a very small selection of frequencies of electro-magnetic radiation . 
One can not be sure that everybody perceives light in the same way. This is done by the brain, which interprets the nerve impulses from the eyes. The only way we can "calibrate" colour perception between different people, is by shining a "white" light through a prism, separating it into the colours of the rainbow and using each separate colour as a reference point of basic colour. Not all people even have the ability to "see" colour. Some are colour blind and either see in shades of grey, or perceives different colours as the same one. This can vary in severity from person to person and is more prevalent in males than in females. 
This can allow us to have an idea how different people "see" colour, but still does not give us insight into how every individual feels about colour or what mood certain shades invoke in people. This is, I think, a very special and individual experience. It is like certain smells that stir the memory and bring back the happenings of days gone by. To every one it is as different as their individual history, culture and memory. 
Eventually it is what you feel inside yourself when you see it that makes colours and shades special. It is the connotation your brain assigns to it, not the frequency of the radiation itself... 
Come to think of it, to a certain extent, the combination of colours and the contrast between the different colours may be even more important than one colour on its own. 
Perhaps Don McLean captured in words what Van Gogh captured in paint on canvas with his song: 

"VINCENT"


"Starry, starry night.
Paint your palette blue and grey,
Look out on a summer's day,
With eyes that know the darkness in my soul.
Shadows on the hills,
Sketch the trees and the daffodils,
Catch the breeze and the winter chills,
In colours on the snowy linen land.
Now I understand what you tried to say to me
how you suffered for your sanity
how you tried to set them free.
They would not listen
they did not know how
perhaps they'll listen now. 
Flaming flowers that brightly blaze, Swirling clouds in violet haze,
Reflect in Vincent's eyes of china blue.
Colours changing hue, morning field of amber grain,
Weathered faces lined in pain,
Are soothed beneath the artist's loving hand.
For they could not love you,
But still your love was true.
And when no hope was left in sight
On that starry, starry night,
You took your life, as lovers often do.
But I could have told you, Vincent,
This world was never meant for one
As beautiful as you.
Portraits hung in empty halls,
Frameless head on nameless walls,
With eyes that watch the world and can't forget.
Like the strangers that you've met,
The ragged men in the ragged clothes,
The silver thorn of bloody rose,
Lie crushed and broken on the virgin snow.
Now I think I know what you tried to say to me,
How you suffered for your sanity,
How you tried to set them free.
They would not listen, they're not listening still.
Perhaps they never will... "

Zen and the art of thinking in singular

Sometimes I wonder when I look in your eyes,
if maybe you're thinking,
of doing some guy...

But mostly I'm thinking,
you're thinking:
"When  will he vanish or die?"
Or maybe,
you're not thinking.
Or maybe you're  thinking...
of nothing at all...
Maybe it's just me, that's doing it all..
All the thinking...
You, doing nothing at all.
Just being yourself,
doing your own thing,
never bothering to think of me at all!

Such a waste of good thoughts, I thought..
Or is it: Such wasteful  thoughts?
Or maybe it is bad thoughts....
Lesser thoughts,
Naughty thoughts..
Worthless thoughts!
Thoughts nonetheless.
Better than no thoughts at all...
Thoughtlessness!

I was thinking:
"What a waste of a thinking brain!"

But thinking alone
Is like drinking alone...

There's no fun in it,
'cause there's no one else in it
None to share in it
No one to cry for it
Nobody to laugh about it
None to be aware of it

None to praise me
No one to correct me
Nobody to contradict me...

What a sad thought, I thought.

Ja wel no fine.....

Ek wonder soms, hoeveel van dit wat mens in 'n maat soek is dit wat in jouself afwesig is, of dalk juis in jou diepste wese WEL aanwesig is, maar onderdruk word om een of ander rede. Mens sien kans om dinge vir vreemdes te sê want as dit jou blootstel aan kritiek of ooplaat vir seerkry of spot, is dit nie 'n ernstige probleem nie. 
Dit is dan waarskynlik van 'n verbygaande aard, OF dit maak darem nie regtig saak nie. .... Aan die ander kant kan dit wees dat, as mens die ander persoon nie so intiem ken nie, die risiko kleiner is dat die persoon die inligting dalk op 'n later stadium teen jou kan gebruik. "Vreemdes" en nie-familie  het meer "respek" vir mekaar as naby vriende en bekendes. Hulle sal dus meer geneig wees om privilige inligting geheim te hou of dan net tot die vertroueling se voordeel te gebruik en dit nie tot 'n afpersmiddel of slaanstok verlaag nie.