PLACEBO EFFECT

I believe that Patrick Kavanagh and Raymond Carver gave me a poetic energy, Absolute rhythm. In 1974, my father was released from nine months' detention in Crumlin Road Jail and the Maze Prison. The longest-serving detainee in Ireland, he went on the run, and we lived in a little cottage with no electricity or running water, seven miles from Dundalk, near Hackballscross, just a mile from Kavanagh Country, Mucker. 

He truly was my Mucker. I ran in the fields while he walked in with my trusted Companion, Muttley the dog. We chased cattle, just as he used to chase British soldiers. With only one eye and three legs, beaten by the butts of British army rifles. It was the first time in my life that I felt that the world was not at war. Before that day, I thought that this war was a part of me, and I was a part of it. 

Now we have peace, and all those gun-running days are over. Years later, a friend lent me a book by Raymond Carver, and it blew my mind, stirred my active imagination, and turned me from a street urchin into a published poet. Through him, I said yes! I can do this, and my poetic voice has been found - my inner, active imagination.

My father died in 1989, but he gave me something; he passed on to me the same poetic energy that Carver and Kavanagh gave to me, an active imagination. The Irish conflict has sapped us of creativity, and only an active imagination can restore it by piecing together our dreams; that's what my pomes are - snippets of my active imagination. What follows in this blog is a valid account. I have no memory now, but I have been deeply touched by my Father, Kavanagh, and Carver. This has nothing at all to do with creation, I believe that god is the anti-Christ, he has sapped out all our self-esteem and worthiness, and in this time of peace, it's up to us to retrieve it. I'm not putting religion down, I'm just saying we don't need it, it doesn't belong in my world. I find inner hope in words, if only I could make you see what I see. I feel your inner self, but you are putting your energy out instead of in.

Carl Jung spoke of the inner active imagination back in the 1960s, when we were trying to free ourselves from oppression and troubles. Now that we live in peacetime, we can piece together our dreams and have an active imagination again and be poets of the heart if not the mind.

These are my dreams, poems, paintings, stories, and essays pieced back together to form an active imagination.

I find it increasingly difficult to maintain a positive outlook. Alina Feld said in her study of melancholy, "the self knows its light only by knowing its darkness". My darkness is projected from within. I live within the state of melancholy, but I hope this essay shines a little light in the dark. I am not coming to this essay trying to shove something down your throat. I have searched and searched for the answer, but even in my hours of near-death, I found the same answers as you.

I have been given a second chance for a reason, but I'm not asking you to believe in something that fundamentally contradicts itself. What I think is that I call mine poetry, and you have another name for this mystery; let's leave it at that - a mystery. Mysteries are named so because they want to be left alone; if we find out what the mystery is, then that's the end. Like poetry, you get something from it, then leave the rest alone for another day.

You will receive something else from the same thing, don't bury it and kill the mystery. It's about you and how you feel today; everything you receive depends on your mood, as well as your level of positivity and negativity. You have the power to change your life for the better, but it's up to you. The power of positive thought is a fantastic determination; tell yourself you can do it.

At the moment, I'm reading the book "Purpose Driven, What on Earth am I here for? "I'm looking for the answers like everyone else, but no self-help book will give me the answers. At the end of the day, it's Rick Warren's (author) words, it's the name he places on it, it's his answer, but who are you, what's your name, and most importantly, what's your answer? It's in you, look at yourself!

When I was in the embrace of death, there were always questions I needed answering. I remember waking up one night in a cold sweat from a dream. There was a crowd of doctors around me administering drugs. I thought I had died and this was my hell, but I came to realise that heaven and hell are the same place, it's how we feel about them, they both exist in your mind, but it's up to you how you paint them, positive or negative.

I remember, many years ago, being kicked to the ground in Lurgan one night with seven around me and a beer bottle in my hand. I thought of smashing it over the ring leader's head, but instead, I threw it away. I rolled up into a ball and took the beating. If I had smashed that bottle over his head, I would be dead, not here now writing this essay. It's up to you; your life takes you down the lane it chooses. As Robert Frost said, "Always take the road less travelled by." Life can be affirming. It's up to you and what you bring to it, so paint your picture with a beautiful sunrise or sunset, and you can't go wrong.

A good friend asked me to write this essay. A searcher like me, she and her son have, along with others, been instrumental in my life since the stroke. They are the 'road less travelled by,' they are the sunrise and sunset of my life, they are my positive thoughts. I wouldn't be here without those people; they were there for me. It's at times like these that you realise who your friends are. Without them, I would have become negative; instead, with their power and my own determination, I pulled through.

Alright, I'll never be 100% the person I was, but I'm alive. I have someone to thank for that, even if it's me, my friends and family. I believe in them and they believe in me; that's what I call the power of healing, the positive force within me. The beauty is not to ask people to believe in what you believe in. Whatever happened to diversity? Believe in whatever you want to; it's your right. If it paints your day, so be it; that's your positive force.

This past year has been the worst I have ever encountered. As well as recovering from a stroke, which almost killed me.

The stroke came without warning. I was on the edge of the bed, then I fell to the floor, shaking. I didn't know what was happening. I crawled into my mother's room and asked her what was happening; she told me I was having a stroke. She phoned the doctor. All I can remember is being rushed to Intensive Care. I had 'locked-in Syndrome.' I knew what to say, but I didn't have the power to communicate it.

I was flat on my back and could only move my eyes. I was so afraid it was uncanny. I thought everyone was out to get me, without the power to resist. I really did believe I would go out in a wooden box.

I remembered an experience from childhood. I was running along a pier when I slipped on seaweed and fell into the water. I was trying to get out of there. I feared I would die, but when I looked around, it was beautiful in there; the seaweed was dancing, and for a second, it was lovely. An American tourist dived in, pulled me out and pumped the water from my lungs. Since that day, I have never met him, but thank you.

 It felt like that during my stroke, I was lost walking around in a field of nothing, then I woke up with friends around me. I don't claim to know the answers to life. I'm just like you, a seeker of the truth. Lying there in that hospital bed, I realised that there is no great light that I'm drawn towards, just the people who loved me for their own reasons, not mine. Someone once said, 'Never judge your enemy, it clouds your judgment.' The power of positive thought is everywhere; it's what they see in you. These are the positive thoughts I've generated. I'm not looking for sympathy or pity; you can keep it. All I ask is that you read this and determine your own answers, not ones that are shoved down your throat. I hope this is your placebo effect.