Life is just a trap waiting for you to risk yourself but once you're caught there is no way out. A viral motion sucking you into time that dissolves as if it never existed but we don't give up, ever, while it keeps raining, while the angels keep weeping and little could sooth me as if I would have found paradise ... for now I found my paradise. I'm happy to be alive.
Artistic Ability and Mental Problems: Is There A Link?
Evidence has supported the claim that there is in fact a link between creativity and certain types of mental disorders for hundreds of years. The specific relationship between the two is apparent when you examine what mental disorders have in common with creativity. It is necessary for an individual to view things abnormally in order to possess creative qualities. Abnormally thinking about things is a very common occurrence for a person showing signs of psychopathological or neurological disorders.
There a wide variety of mental disorders that are known to somehow be connected with creativity. Some of the most common disorders known to make patients show an increased propensity toward creativity include:
Hundreds of years of history and literature have painted a clear picture, illuminating the similarities between extremely creative and mentally ill individuals. One of the most famous examples of a mentally ill person being extremely creative and intellectually gifted was Albert Einstein. Einstein’s unique gifts were directly related to a barrage of mental illnesses, which include developmental language and dyslexia disorders. Most consider Einstein’s creativity and extremely high levels of intelligence to be somehow directly linked with his mental disorders, although the direct mechanism thought responsible for the similarities is not known.
One of the most widely accepted scientific studies within the scientific community took place during 1949, and provided evidence that individuals with a natural predisposition towards bipolar disorder also tend to be naturally predisposed to creativity. The study’s findings provided evidence that two-thirds of the studied artists, writers, composers, architects and their families were normal. However, the study concluded that overall the group as a whole had a significantly higher percentage of individuals showing signs of mental disorders, when compared to the general public.
The group studied had a high percentage of individuals that could be classified as neurotic, and even insane. The experiment provided results supporting the facts that around fifty percent of the poets studied and about forty percent of the musicians studied had some kind of psychiatric abnormality. When it comes down to it, ADD/ADHD, dementia, autism and bipolar disorder all seem to be somehow directly linked to creativity by the similar qualities bf both.
Many of history’s most well respected writers suffered from the mental disorder epilepsy, including Fyodor Dostoevsky and Edgar Allen Poe. The link between the two is not exactly known, but there is some evidence supporting the idea that increased levels of creativity develop hand in hand with the onset of the disorder. Many scientists believe that the increased levels of creativity are somehow connected with how the human brain reacts to the onset of mental diseases.
Louise Baker is a freelance blogger who usually writes about accredited online colleges for Zen College Life. Her most recent article ranked engineering degrees.
All the days and years of endless boredom. Of waiting for the next best thing, trapped inside your mind like a lifetime prison sentence. Maybe one day we'll be free, maybe one day we won't feel so oppressed. But when does that day come? Tell me ...
As a kid I enjoyed life, with an endless imagination, dreaming away to far off places and far off worlds. A place to hide, a place to be free. Where your mind can whirl into the strands of life's enjoyment, into the best thing. Instead of having to settle for the rest. But when you're young it's called 'imaginative', when you're an adult they often call it 'psychosis'.
What if that ultimate reward they always promise you doesn't come? What if life just really sucks like it actually does? No wonder the depression struck.
But I had my reward, so I've accepted those years of suffering. But I can't help wondering: what if? How do people handle it, how can they handle it, if that reward doesn't show up? I've only accepted, because I had my damn reward. What about you?
It seems like yesterday since I last wrote ... and yet it's been a while. Between work, household, love, books and music there is left so little time ... Just a word of thanks to you my readers for your time and enthousiasm. And I will return, soon!
You don't see the bruises ... you can't foresee the pain. It's intense, so deep and yet so volatile, in vain.
He slapped my head once more while he uttered for the millionth time the same old words again: "You're a loser and you'll never win. I hate for you to be my shadow as you put nothing upon me but shame".
There was only one thing he forgot: life and loyalty aren't about winning, losing, shadows or shame. It's beyond all of that human stuff, details that are nothing but obstacles ... to reach a higher goal, a common ground. A lot to leave behind: I betrayed.
Let's just rest and let the wind blow through our hair, while the mountains quake and the trees shake their leaves. Towards another destiny, a new world ... where greed is only a word without significance, hunger doesn't belong in a dictionary and money is only an archeological object.
Let's just talk and let our words be woven into a veil of tears. Where our hearts can have no conquerors, where we only seek to comprehend. Let's gain understanding, move into a different habit, symbolising what could have been.
Here, upon my deadbed, I call upon thee ... you the young and the weak. The deficient and mongrols of society, resist! The burden is upon you, my abnormal friends, to revolt, against this: the one that never questioned itself, the only so freaking selfsure and the true dominance of the individual.
There is a time to lay down and tolerate, there is a time to indulge and seek compromise but now ... now there is only a time to exterminate.
Another year changed, turbulent and wild. Where the horses are born, stallions galop into the horizon to be burnt by the evening sun. A word more, a word less, does it matter when you think about the progress?
"If all else fails you can still whip the horses eye"
I'm not sure if I whipped it, but reborn I was.
Another year closer to death ;-)
For those who like my poetry, here's a work you will love :-)
The girl with the golden earring never knew her fate.
But all I can think of is a decent bed and sleep. The traveling has wearied me and instead of resting I'm running around all day, doing everything and nothing at all. The only consolation is my return, but that too ... is another trip of 1300 km.
I'm part of the working class girls again ... but I don't want to be a hero, let alone a heroïn. Those who follow me produce their image of me themselves and I'm not responsable for what they perceive me. All I needed was hope and belief and someone gave it to me, it doesn't make her a heroïn, but my gratitude will be carved in her tombstone.
I have lived a thousand lives and changed multiple times my whole way of life, the habitat, even the country, ... I don't seek it, change seeks me and stimulates me beyond what I think I'm capable of. Strength and tenacity are qualities that should be valued in red, golden and brown.
Write the five words down: hope, belief, change, strength and tenacity
Learn to live by them, but above all, learn what they mean when I add Panta Rhei.
This is written to you in Broken English, it's a message from the heart, the century and the mind ...
Live by it and you won't regret. Life of past times is but a shadow cast upon your presence, shadows follow, and should never preceed.
It haunted me - for years I must say. An academic whose sole life purpose is to prove that comets can obtain alien micro life forms. Why did it haunt me? As the main character turns his back desillusioned and decided to give up, the narrator describes beautifully how a cometh with little alien life forms falls behind his back while walking away ...
When you give something a chance and maintain your belief in it, miracles can occur ...
When you disregard the chance out of security reasons or by giving up, the cometh will fall too but it will never see the light of day in your life ...
Luckily ... I persisted :). I can sleep again now.
If you could read
in between my lines
what would they tell you?
Would you finaly grasp who I am?
Or does it still scare you
Someone who seems to be ungraspable
high above in the clouds with body, soul and mind.
For me, there is nothing not to be grasped about me
I'm not the enigma
The enigma remains why you can't grasp me ...
And above all, why that scares you.
For that rosebud that never saw the light of day For each leaf destroyed to hear that adorable crisp For each animal butchered to savour that delicious taste.
For the millions of poor who don't get a chance For the millions of nimrods who think they know the way For the millions of depressed who no longer see a future All drugged by medicines, society, religion, normalcy ...
But that's not all Let's say grace For the ones with the brains For they are the ones Who suffer ... to the bone.
So I say to you Is it enough? Is it really necessary to continue this road Carving beyond redemption ... All I can say is: I hope you enjoyed.
A road Where hope hasn't left Pandora's box Where hope is but an empty word Cried out by the eyes of the millions slain. Maybe it's just me, maybe it's just you, maybe it's just we.
There used to be a pain here painted on the moist of my heart blood slowly seeping in dripping from the walls slowly dripping till the colour soaked my mind oh so frigid, so unkind. It used to be like this, but is no more thanks to the grace and kindness of fortune and destiny combined in one.
Blooded rags and rags of bones one day you live, one day you starve alone. Give me the drugs, give me the love till it's too much, till it's all the same Till nothing's left and noone to blame Dance on my grave when all possibilities are gone they all call your name when the damage is done ...
I call it from the hells down low from the crypts, from the elders from the white raven and the crow I call it nature I call it prayer I don't call it God, I don't believe in One Let's settle for that, just for a while cause when all is said and done nature always seems to be right.
After all we've been through, there must be a way out a way to love unconditionaly a way to live, a way to be proud. After all that's said and done let's find our next junction where we can meet without burning bridges without feeling numb let me be the fire that consumes your wood and doesn't destroy for all we've been through.
In the dark all you see are shadows in the dark all you feel is pain that enduring suffering that hits you in the face over and over again.
I takes a lot of courage, willpower and luck to get out of that dead end street alley to be immersed in light and feel the warm rays of the sun Just don't forget: it takes courage, willpower and luck courage willpower luck.
Kneel before society and you will be saved into the kingdom of numb thought you will be praised. You will get the title 'normal' and be enslaved in body, thought, spirit and mind take this chalice away. Let me have my own mind ...
This blog is a new initiative. Not a journal, not a magazine, just a place where good writing can be assembled. Style doesn’t matter, form doesn’t matter … as long as the contributions are good. Language even doesn’t matter, but I would limit it to English, Dutch, French, Italian, Spanish and German. A world of possibilities, let’s see where this goes. Do not hesitate to send me an email (firstname.lastname@example.org) with your work. A blog where you get to be appreciated for your writing, and who knows who will read ? Now let’s get started!
This blog is not the place where I concentrate my activities (cfr. my 'fan'page on facebook and the still growing site http://www.lenavanelslander.wordpress.com) but an update doesn't hurt for the moment ...
I have my own life you have no say over me I cannot live my life serving your shadow Whenever you feel like commanding me. And I don't exist in function of you Once in a while I have to say no And as a friend you should be able to understand AND accept that.
Let death be a burden to us all ... and a salvation to some.
Good friends as long as one does what they say Is there still someone out there that rescpects your freedom of choice? And actualy realises the smalness of his own ego instead of blowing it up to the present gigantic proportions? No, I have my own life You are my friend But I can't devote my life to driving you around.
Wisdom in madness, chaos and sometimes an oasis of peace in the eye of the hurricane, dreams, rainbows, chocolat, snow, butterflies, Hazel, those crunching leaves under your feet in autumn, the first springsun, the burning summersun, mountains, books, music, snow, rainbows, new discoveries, love, the feeling of being alive. More to come ...
I have a slightly dark chaotic mind, which will become clear in my writings. I started writing poetry in my twenties, several poems have been published in various magazines. Her first book 'Quills of Fire', written with Marilyn Campiz, appeared in November 2009. Contact the author for a copy!