The Wonder Of The Human Brain

       The Wonder Of The Human Brain: A Learning Tool

 Beneath the hair

I  think it there.

In the genius and moron

A hundred billion neurons

(more likely eighty-six that charges up our many tricks)

Brainstem/spinal cord connected;

Cerebellum which located

In the rear

For balance, schooling that is motor.

Cerebrum fills most of the skull;

Cortex called cerebral –

Sliced in half, a left and right,

Small other parts for thought:

Decisions, mem’ry , learning(s) sought,

Communication and perception:

Stimulation out and in.

(You’d think the parts were wearing thin).

Brain soft, 

A craft 

In white and gray.

Monsieur Poirot was fond of braying

About his  ‘gray cells’ intellect.

(One sees a giant self-respect)

Two percent of body’s mass

With twenty-five the body asks

To keep it thinking, (bod’ as well)

Energized in best of health.

It gathers up what we call knowledge;

It’s a collage in a  college.

Sleep or in activity, we’re using all that energy.

In other words, the brain’s awake all for our sake:

Yours mine, a mine of wonder.

The real wonder is that it

Creates new cells to keep it fit:

A hippocampus we can’t see

For learning and for memory:

Seven hundred cells that grow

Each day that we don’t know about.

We do not feel them, seal them, heal them.

They’re just there – like air. 

And so the brain rains down upon us

Means and answers, thoughts unanswered,

Mysteries inside

And we’re along for this glad ride.

For whose sake and for why?

Some sort of wonder in the sky?

Could be.

The Wonder Of The Human Brain 6.14.2018 Circling Round Science II; Nature Of &In Reality; Definitely Didactic; Arlene Nover Corwin

I Grund Och Botten Är Vi Lika (At the bottom of things we are alike)

     Living in Sweden, as I do, I’ve often noticed that some idioms seem to capture an essence, are more powerful in Swedish than in my own tongue English and vice versa. Therefore, I’ve begun to take the liberty of borrowing the occasional Swedish idiom for use in my poetry.

 I Grund Och Botten (är vi lika)*

A Swedish idiom meaning At The Bottom Of Things (we are alike)

 

At the bottom of things: basically,

First and foremost and primarily

We are alike.

Our temperament, our gifts, our faults

May differ, and they do.

But you,

You are the same as me.

I is always you is we!

We are a race: a human race.

But should we race, erase the commonality

That binds us all? Of course not!

We are one in essence, which we got

At birth, perhaps before;

Sympathy, empathy, the virtues, vices;

All the aims a blend of spices

From self-sacrifice to merchandise;

Imprecise, but there at bottom

From the scrotum to the sputum.

All your systems are but symptoms.

At their end a blend of like-ness and uniqueness,

And one race.

 I Grund Och Botten 5.31.2018 Swedish Book; Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Reality; I Is Always You Is We; Arlene Nover Corwin

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Hottest May On Record

Hot off the press!
The Hottest May On Record🤔

I write about the land I live in
Just because I live there and the land’s at hand.
A land forgiven,
For in heaps of, hopeful ways it’s grand.

The hottest May most every day
Since records started to be written, and
A button on the past,
It points to profits oft’ ill-gotten
In a world of greed, technology: half-rotten.

All the harmful tendencies in man
Brought forth, the times and growing population
On their prideful side.

Oh, I hate to be a just one more harbinger
Of god-knows-what:
Plagues and wars and everything that
Brings disaster.
All this from the weather
And this hottest May on record
Within
Little Sweden.

The Hottest May On Record 5.30.2018 Swedish Book; Nature Of & In Reality; Our Times, Our Culture II;Arlene Nover Corwin

Unmotivated Tears

           Unmotivated Tears

 I used to criticize

The eyes

Of those I knew

Who, at

Drops of a hat

Shed tears of ardor: God-knows-what.

 

Ascribing it

To vitamins and lack thereof,

Past, present and/or too much ‘love’.

Too something/something out of balance;

Nothing but a prevalence

Of yin or yang

Ganging up

On both those ducts.

 

Uncaring and unfeelingly – I used to be.

Now, at eighty-three it’s me.

I may need hormone therapy.

Or is it age sagacity –

Unmotivated tears

Based on a grasp of life’s chimere

That takes in all –

An all which makes one engineered

By tears

One must defer to.

Unmotivated Tears 4.24.2018 I Is Always You Is We; Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Aging; Arlene Corwin

 

 

Thinking In The Sun

           Thinking In The Sun

Preoccupied with origins and ends,

Our real-life friends –

One knows that what is left is means: the present tense –

Past gone, what lies ahead not yet in sight’s attendance. 

The rest belongs to speculation.

Reasoning has limits.

Also left: the intellect and character,

Not neglecting chance or grace;

Who gets what, does what, makes choices that

Put two and two together to get four – or not. 

Sitting here out in the sun

What better theme to think upon,

The senses dong what they do,

Interpreted by you-know-who:

Me, you.

 The eye sees change [wind blowing grass].

The ear hears wind [that’s blowing grass].

The arm feels sun [that’s growing grass].

The brain sees all as change.

 Where is the toot, toot of an absolute?

One would recruit an absolute

To make things stable

If one could/were only able.

 So one sits awaiting, cogitating,

Meditating, celebrating one’s existence,

Hoping, praying it’s not nonsense

In the end,

As its end,

At the end.

Thinking In The Sun 4.22.2018 The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative II; Nature Of & In Reality; Birth Death & In Between III; Arlene Corwin

Pushed Around by Fate #1&2

Written this morning, I had an inkling that the title sounded familiar, so I looked it up (bless the computer) and lo! there is was – a poem, not at all the same, written in 1998, twenty years ago, even published under the misprinted title Pushed Around by Fat. Anyway, here they are: Pushed Around By Fate#1 &
#2.
Pushed Around By Fate #2* 
I’ve always let myself
Be pushed around by fate.
It’s seemed to work.
Despite the look of life’s mistake,
For even with, [the look] it’s all turned out just right.
 
‘Decisioned’ choices all the time,
In actuality, each minute primed
By some unknown, because
You choose,
And you are what you are
Just then, and almost have no choice
Despite the voice that says you do.
And so, by following each instinct,
Settling on and coming into –
Sometimes leaving things and people,
Circumstance, all slings that push,
Though backward-seeming,
All’s been a non-rushing forward toward development:
Mistakes the school, awards illusion;
Both mixture of life’s institute of higher education.
 
I have let myself be pushed around
And probably will all ways:
Flexibility –
In teamwork with my destiny;
Sense accrued through wisdom to distinguish:
In plain English,
Differentiate the true from false:
Big and useless, small but faultless
Things that last or run and flee.
 
To let yourself be pushed around by fate
Means that you learn to wait
In confidence that things work out eventually.
 
Pushed Around By Fate 4.9.2018 Nature Of & In Reality; Circling Round Reality; Arlene Corwin
 
Pushed Around By Fate #1
 
Wed at twenty. Thirteen later months a bairn
To care and think and learn about, and very little brain
Prepared to form a life my very own.
Unprepared, reaching out,
Guessing, tripping, dipped in doubt,
Not grown, without a cicerone.
Stupid right down to the bone,
But glad to leave a family home unreal as foam.
Yet now all’s right and all is fixed,
The complex simply un-complex.
What seemed like chaos back then when . . .
Was inner order bordering on
Grace.
Pushed Around By Fate 8.23.1998/2.7.2007/revised and rewritten 4.9.2018 Birth, Death & In Between; Circling Round Woman; Pure Nakedness; Time; Arlene Corwin
 
*Known today as going with the flow or living in the now

Finding Your Rhythm

         Finding Your Rhythm

 Your rhythm can have heat,

It can have speed.

Depending upon what you need

In the moment’s feat,

It’s very heartbeat.

 

Whatsoever gives you power,

Your bio-clock

May rock

That hour.

 

Power by the minutes is what counts.

It mounts by seconds as you play.

It plays,

And you should let it play

Since rhythm’s power never stays,

Permutating with each pulse.

 

Respect it, for it’s no one else –

The simplest sample of the minute’s you,

All you are and all you do,

Adapting, altering, amending,

Reconstructing and evolving

As you solve new pages,

Entering and leaving stages.

 

When I play or sing

Finding tempo’s rhythmic swing

Is key; door’s opening

To fundamentals: moving, sitting, cooking, eating…

Finding beat the core and more.

 

At the bottom your rhythm

Lies a measure of your pleasure,

An intrinsic part of it;

Pleasure in the heart of it.

 Finding Your Rhythm 3.28.2018 Vaguely About Music II; Circling Round Energy, Nature Of & In Reality; Arlene Corwin

 

 

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