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Oh, dear ~ the power of words, eh !?!

the power of words: as feared by those who burnt books, tried thinkers for herecy, forced people to flee their homes and start afresh in the New World, conned voters into supporting wars, declared undying love until the next newest husband came along, etc., etc.

Yes, the power of words. It's what the muffins or war thread is all about.

....and sent others scrambling for their matron and meds .

"scrambling.........scrambling...?"

How about draggin' a broken, festerin' flacid, foot 'cross white hot coals to get to the nearest foot-doctor, what mends foul smellin' gangrened toes, oozin' wiv maggots and puss, from avin' stomped on flea riddled rats wot squeezed through the rancid entrails of a bloated throon's corpse, recently cut down from the local gibbet, after bein' 'ung, drawn an' quartered, for bannin' books in the town library? Now, they's wot I call words! I think the medication is a tad too strong this evening

....and here I thought you were going to do a take-off on eggs. I must still be hungry. Well, till I read your response, anyway . You're just lucky I'm not squeamish, m'boy ~ that's all I have to say !

~ Lizzy

The trick is to capture the moment and join those feelings up with words. In Contact, starring Jodie Foster, she plays the part of a hard nosed scientist, who finally emerges into a stellar dream-like-sequence, and says, "They should have sent a poet." If you can recall the film and that sequence, you'll have some idea of how magnificent the updraft of Bipolar is.

Dear Byron, I've not seen that film with Jodie Foster, but it's now on my list. What an incredible mind you have. (However, your latest offering is sufficient to make me thankful I had breakfast some hours ago .)

Take Care,

Diane

Dianne, if you wish I can give you a true description of how John Cooke was executed. He was the man who sent Charles I to the Scaffold. Upon the turn of the years and the change in powers that followed, Cooke was hung drawn and quartered. He was a lawyer. Perhaps Michael knows more of the detail?

Diane, my mind has a mind of its own. I have no idea from where the words come, which arrive in my thoughts. Quite often, they arrive in sentences fully formed and as neat as a new quilt cover.

We all have ideas that pop into our heads. Where do they come from? (rhetorical) You will look at the page of a book and as certain words are read by you, your mind wanders off to provide you with other words. What causes those words to bubble up and surface in your conscious thoughts? Triggers are an obvious cause. But what gets the words from deep within your subconsciousness. Where are they kept? How long do they lay dormant? Is there a little basket into which all of our received information is sent, to be carried until needed? Will I win the Lottery? <---------an example of something completely unrelated entering my thoughts as I wrote the last sentence. I don't even do the bloody Lottery!

Diane wrote: Fljots said:

You take care on that bike, you hear me?!

OK. I don't take too many risks. Just enough to get the adrenalin going .

Hm. Alright, then. (Mother hen complex reluctantly takes a back seat ).

Diane wrote:

I used to ride a motorbike, but the only potentially serious accident I had was on a bicycle I lost control of. I hit a wooden fence instead of a wall. Trashed the bike. I was ok.

Yes, it is always good policy to crash into things with a bit of 'give' in them! Glad you were OK!

So, you used to ride a motorbike . Once I was determined to pass my bike test, but it is one of those things I never got around to. In my younger days I used to choose boyfriends with motobikes as a matter of policy. Tell you what, if I win the lottery, I'll buy us a couple of Harleys and I'll meet you at the services on the M5 and we'll ride to Berlin together .

Take Care,

Diane

Motor bikes are great - except when it's tipping down torrential rain, LOL! With no windscreen wipers on you helmet, you have to stop to wait it out, because you are effectively blind!
I'll pass on the Harley, lol! I don't trust my concentration any more - which is why I stopped and took to public transport. *sighs regretfully*.

Byron wrote: How many of us have dreamed that we are flying? A feeling of total freedom without constraint or restraint.

To be living constantly on top of a pole, as it were, trying to keep your balance, with no remission, seems something varying from nightmare to bliss. I don't know how anyone can cope with it, even with the help of medication.

But the highs seem to compensate for the lows - and the high is something I think I may have some small, limited understanding of.
The bit I quoted of your comments, above, is something that has happened to me several times in my life - or something similar to it. Not exactly flying... standing in a high place and seeing the world spread at your feet... encompassing it; encompassing the universe within yourself. It is very fleeting; lasting no more than seconds, but totally awesome when it happens. Is that something like what you experience at the high end of the poles?

PM sent.

Fljotsdale wrote:

Diane wrote: Fljots said:

You take care on that bike, you hear me?!

OK. I don't take too many risks. Just enough to get the adrenalin going .

Hm. Alright, then. (Mother hen complex reluctantly takes a back seat ).

Diane wrote:

I used to ride a motorbike, but the only potentially serious accident I had was on a bicycle I lost control of. I hit a wooden fence instead of a wall. Trashed the bike. I was ok.

Yes, it is always good policy to crash into things with a bit of 'give' in them! Glad you were OK!

So, you used to ride a motorbike . Once I was determined to pass my bike test, but it is one of those things I never got around to. In my younger days I used to choose boyfriends with motobikes as a matter of policy. Tell you what, if I win the lottery, I'll buy us a couple of Harleys and I'll meet you at the services on the M5 and we'll ride to Berlin together .

Take Care,

Diane

Motor bikes are great - except when it's tipping down torrential rain, LOL! With no windscreen wipers on you helmet, you have to stop to wait it out, because you are effectively blind!
I'll pass on the Harley, lol! I don't trust my concentration any more - which is why I stopped and took to public transport. *sighs regretfully*.

e-mail and piccies also sent for this two wheeled topic.

Byron, I just had a chocolate muffin, so I'll pass on the gory details of that execution, thanks all the same.

Diane, my mind has a mind of its own. I have no idea from where the words come, which arrive in my thoughts. Quite often, they arrive in sentences fully formed and as neat as a new quilt cover. But what gets the words from deep within your subconsciousness. Where are they kept? How long do they lay dormant? Is there a little basket into which all of our received information is sent, to be carried until needed?

Nobody, not even scientists, has even an inkling as to where our thoughts come from. Your thoughts, a moment from now, are totally unpredictable, even when we allow complete understanding of every atom in your brain and are able to see all the way through to how that emerges, at another level, at conscious thought.

But you didn't mean that. You are wondering why you get powerful unbidden emotions crashing through your mind. Your feelings are, as you say, triggered, either by reality (what comes to us through our senses) or fantasy (all other mental activity). The difference between those two states is often confused, by just about all of us. There are two ways I would deal with distressing emotions - either spend time with a competent therapist, or sit with the emotion and allow it to concentrate deep in your abdomen. Focus just on the emotion, not the thoughts that surround it. Dive into it and become it, for you are it. It gets a bit complicated, because we often use 'false' feelings to cover other emotions. I could write at length about this, but I'll leave it at that for now. I'm no expert by the way. I just learnt a bit out of necessity.

Will I win the Lottery? <---------an example of something completely unrelated entering my thoughts as I wrote the last sentence. I don't even do the bloody Lottery!

Well, I don't do the lottery either, but I'm always hoping to win it! Byron, I wonder how I would address what you have to endure. I believe BD is thought to have a genetic element, unlike most other mental difficulties. But I am certain that if you say:

The mind can and does nudge one away from the deep drops that are always there, waiting to drag one back in. The balancing act is taking place right now!

then if you build up a relationship with a therapist you can learn to trust (usually requires a bit of 'shopping' to find one you click with), you will eventually learn to take that leap of faith, and deal with those particular 'deep drops' and that it will be well worth it.

I like the saying, "life is never cured, it is only managed". I wish you more of the highs and less of the lows.

Love,

Diane

Motor bikes are great - except when it's tipping down torrential rain, LOL! With no windscreen wipers on you helmet, you have to stop to wait it out, because you are effectively blind!
I'll pass on the Harley, lol! I don't trust my concentration any more - which is why I stopped and took to public transport. *sighs regretfully*.

Fljots, yes but when it's not cold and raining, what a feeling of freedom it is... . I guess you'll have to ride pillion, but I have to pass my test first. Oh, and win the lottery.

I like to dream, Fljots .

See you later,

Diane x

That would be brilliant, Diane! Hurry up with that lottery win!