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Further approaches to building resilience-Mark Vernon and Donald Winnicott

I have been thinking a little about Winnicott and meaning to read a book about him by the redoubtable Adam Philips. However, having sufficient reading material in the form of poetry collections, journals, novels and criticism I still find myself scrolling/chillaxing on You Tube where I found this extraordinarily interesting account by Mark Vernon which repays listening through.

I found Vernon’s approach so engaging that I then found myself intrigued by the following clip where his philosophical and theological approach carries some imaginative and enlightening comments. It is also deeply moving.

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Rainy Night, Paris, France

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Their stories, or: Our stories

I very much like that Kate Blake poem- lucid, laconic and moving.

ben Alexander's avatarThe Skeptic's Kaddish 🇮🇱

Poetry Partners #40

‘My Paternal Grandparents’, a poem by Kate Blake of ‘aroused’

Nana and Pop met on the ward
when she gently tended
his gruesome war wounds

he a tall handsome older gent
she a tiny gentle English rose

he solemnly declared he had nothing
and lived in the middle of nowhere

but love blinded her to his reality
and after the war she sailed south

with another nurse to join their beau’s
a huge adventure in the Australian bush

completely off grid with snakes and spiders
sixteen miles from any neighbour or station

in his family home with his sisters and brothers
the children from his first marriage had moved on

they birthed my aunt and father
she sailed back to UK every two years

taught us all to knit crochet and embroider
the boys were more accomplished than I

A Crystalline by ben Alexander…

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Painting Everyday London: 2 Spencer Gore concluded

Absolutely lovely paintings. Could they be described as post impressionist? Thanks for posting!

hoakley's avatarThe Eclectic Light Company

In the first of these two articles looking at the short career and paintings of Spencer Gore (1878–1914), first president of the Camden Town Group, I showed examples from the start of his professional career to his marriage and influence by paintings of Paul Cézanne and Paul Gauguin in 1911.

In the same year, as president of the sixteen elected members of the Camden Town Group, Gore joined their meetings every Saturday afternoon in rooms on the first floor of Sickert’s studio at 19 Fitzroy Street, Camden Town, in north London. Living with his wife in their first floor flat at 2 Houghton Place, just off Mornington Crescent, he had but a short walk to those meetings.

The Fig Tree c.1912 by Spencer Gore 1878-1914 Spencer Gore (1878–1914), The Fig Tree (c 1912), oil on canvas, 63.5 x 760 cm, The Tate Gallery (Bequeathed by J.W. Freshfield 1955), London. © The Tate Gallery and Photographic Rights © Tate…

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Side Street, Lyon, France

Lovely Lyon near where the Beaujolais grows and flows!

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Cobblestone Street, Rue de Montmartre, Paris

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#Short stories Isaac Bashevis Singer

Very interesting and informative. Thanks!

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Klein – 1928 “Early Stages of the Oedipus Conflict” response

A very clear exposition, I think. There are excellent talsa and information available at the “Melanie Klein Trust”.

chaosmologicaltheology's avatarTheological and Philosophical Musings

Melanie Klein is my favorite psychoanalyst after the Master.  While I consider Freud to be the pioneer and thinker par excellence, Klein made important revisions to his works and anywhere they disagreed, as far as I’m aware, I favor Klein’s interpretations. 

The common updates to Freud’s theories are well-known and could probably be decently summarized by a quick google search, but for the purposes of this blog post, I want to focus on the 1928 essay “Early Stages of the Oedipus Conflict” and detail my own thoughts on it.

She correctly dates the Oedipus tendencies to the end of the first year due to weaning. This leads to an unleashing of aggression towards the persecutory object (Mother/Breast) and also anxiety. This anxiety pushes the ego to develop, at similar times of object-permanence, where the Good Breast and Bad Breast are the same breast. Both infant boys and girls find…

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Sochi Diary 2

Saint Schmidt's avatarLacanian Scraps

I am entering my final day in Sochi. I walked the docks, gazing into the large waves that came crashing onto the land from the Black sea. I spent hours looking for a place to piss. I became friends with the dogs, and sat with them for more time than I should have, until, finally, wandering into a hookah lounge.

I met a group of people, all of whom spoke clear English, and we shared perverted jokes for several hours. The string guitar played in the background. He was wearing a white dress shirt, unbuttoned, with his chest exposed. I think he was going for that Don Juan look. As for me, I’m no Don Juan; I simply search the world for what remains of love. I’m still convinced that it’s not possible anymore to fall in love. Generally speaking, love remains the least of possibilities.

A woman sat beside…

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still life (2022)