Dr. Mel Waldman

CONEY ISLAND RHAPSODY

Listen to the sweeping, roaring waves rushing to shore, Coney Island waves surging and singing a Coney Island rhapsody in red, white, and blue Americana, soothing but tumultuous waves carving vanishing traces across the sprawling, vacant beach, emptied of most human and non-human life but filled with mystical and metaphysical objects of beauty and wisdom hidden in ordinary things strewn about the winter landscape, a dreamscape of raw nature and rapturous revelations; listen to the glorious Coney Island waves.

Listen to the fierce Coney Island waves, flowing ecstatically to shore, celebrating Americana in patriotic majesty beneath a pristine snowstorm, the silky snow sailing to earth and embracing omnipotent waves that vanish on the vacant beach; listen to the whirling, swirling waves.

Listen to the long, lonely waves of winter rushing relentlessly to shore in a jazzy, Coney Island rhapsody, an undiscovered Gershwin melody celebrating Americana, the grand music of the heavens flying magically to earth, surging and singing a celestial masterpiece for mortals; listen to this Coney Island rhapsody, a composition of unparalleled beauty, performed ferociously for an abandoned universe; listen.

In winter, the Coney Island beach is barren and deserted. It seems to stretch endlessly, moving east and west. Surreal symphonic waves rush gloriously to shore in a Coney Island rhapsody. No humans hear this unearthly music now. Perhaps at sunset or after midnight or sunrise tomorrow, a stray human will stroll across the pristine beach and listen to the magical waves while searching for sacred objects of beauty and wisdom. I pray and dream. Yes, I pray some stranger with the gift of serendipity meanders to the beach and discovers the Coney Island rhapsody, performed for her or him. Must we wait for summer to hear the holy waves and their celestial rhapsody? Must we?

After midnight, I drift into a deep sleep and dream of Coney Island. I take the Q train to the last stop in Brooklyn. I wander toward the beach. But soon, Im blinded by a heavy snowstorm. I cant see. A vast whiteness whirls around me and covers my being. Yet in the distance, I hear enchanting music that compels me to move toward the hypnotic sounds. I follow the bewitching notes dancing across my private dreamscape. And suddenly, Im a stranger trudging across the white beach, listening to a Coney Island rhapsody.

I listen. I vanish in the snow. In winter, tethered to a mystical composition, I transcend my earthly existence and become one with the waves and the beach. And I vanish.

I AM JACOB

I am Jacob, the son of Isaac and Rebecca. Father admired my twin Esau, the first born and hunter. Unfortunately, I didnt impress him with my gentle spirit. Yet Mother loved me and helped me steal Fathers blessing.

Esau and I fought inside Mothers womb. But during our sacred journey, Esau emerged from her darkness first and breathed his holy breaths of life. I snatched Esaus heel as I passed through her mysterious womb. And when I left her universe, I shrieked and cried and breathed the sacred breaths of life.

I am Jacob, the usurper. With Mothers trickery, I stole Fathers blessing. In his old age, Father intended to bless my twin with his birthright. Yet Mother dressed me in goat skins. My blind father believed he touched and smelled my hairy brother Esau. When Esau returned home, he swore hed kill me.

I am Jacob, the wanderer. I left home. One night I had this eerie dream about a ladder. This holy ladder connected earth with the kingdom of heaven. Throughout the endless night, I watched angels climb up and down the sacred ladder. And I felt the presence of my G-d.

I fled from Esau and went to live in Haran, where I fell in love with Rachel. But I married Rachels sister Leah after working for my uncle for seven years. My uncle Laban tricked me. Yet I agreed to work another seven years for him. And then I married Rachel.

I had seven children with Leah and two with Rachel.

Years vanished. We traveled south to Canaan. I longed to see Esau. Did he still wish to kill me? Or could we strive for peace?

I asked my family to leave me behind. I needed to be alone. The next day I planned to see Esau.

A stranger came and wrestled with me throughout the night. The next morning he asked me to free him. I refused to let him go until he blessed me.

Many believe he was an angel of G-d. He blessed me and gave me a new name. Im not Jacob anymore. I am Israel.

Who am I? I am Israel. I am a Jew in search of my identity, my deepest self, the soul that speaks to the Shem Ha-Mforash, the Ineffable Name

IDENTITY CRISIS

Who am I?

I am a blue butterfly born from anguish and trauma. Yet now I fly high above the earth, a free spirit of the heavens. I release my sadness in the whirling wind and embrace the joy of the universe. I give birth to a new identity. I am a blue butterfly.

Who am I?

I am a peacock. I have a crest and a long tail. I am beauty. My tail is adorned with rainbow-colored spots that look like hypnotic eyes. They gaze at you with love and compassion. And when my magnificent tail spreads out, it is a celestial fan. I am a peacock. I am beauty, a divine sphere of energy on the Tree of Life. I am a peacock.

Who am I?

I am an old man lost in the wilderness and struggling to find my way home. The wolves are tracking me. I hear them in the distance. I keep running but they are closing in on me. In my minds eye, I see their fierce, yellow eyes. The swirling balls of fire gaze at me with hunger and lust. They rip my flesh apart. I stop. Shriveled up in the pitch-black darkness of my psyche, Im crippled and blinded by a consuming terror. I try to breathe but a massive panic attack grips and chokes me. And I smell a foul carcass in the miasma. Frozen in the seething wasteland, I speak silently to the old frightened man Ive become. My skeletal body shakes uncontrollably. My heart beats faster than a train without a motorman rushing through a subterranean labyrinth. Yet I continue to speak inside my dreamscape and the old man listens to me. He hears me and rediscovers his courage, hidden inside the buried treasure box of his youth. And now, no matter what happens, I am no longer a victim. We run together as one man blessed with the beautiful visions of a child and the absolute faith of a man of G-d. I am a young old man.

Who am I?

I am a student of psychoanalysis. I read the works of Sigmund Freud, the first analyst, and the writings of many of the other great analysts. I read and reflect and critically assess the theories and empirical findings of these eclectic geniuses. I read their works again and again, probing and grappling and struggling to penetrate the cryptic words and case studies. I come across a scholar who compares the student of psychoanalysis to the student of the Torah. What an intriguing insight!

Who am I?

I am a Jew. These four beautiful words reveal the core of my identity. They contain the mystery of my life and hide in plain sight all the existential, religious, and philosophical questions of my existence. They conceal all the sundry puzzles of my being and becoming and point to mysterious clues and enigmatic answers scattered across the universe. I am a Jew moving through the stages of my life, learning and discovering the secrets of my psyche with each metamorphosis. I am a Jew.

Who am I?

I am a blue butterfly. I am a peacock. I am an old man. And I am a young old man. I am a student of psychoanalysis. And I am the invisible poet who wrote the poem you are reading now. My secret self conceals and protects all my traits and qualities. I imagine that much of who I am remains buried in my private wasteland. Yet clearly, I am a man who asks many questions. Why?

Who am I?

I am a Jew.

JEWISH NOIR

We come from darkness, and like the lost sparks

of creation, once contained in holy shells

called kelipot that shattered during

shevirat ha-kelim, the

breaking of the

vessels,

we are scattered across the

antediluvian

city.

We search for meaning.

We collect and gather

the sacred sparks

of divine

light.

We search for redemption.

In the midst of urban

violence and

atavistic

evil,

we pray to our mysterious G-d,

Hashem. Sometimes He is

silent. We lose faith.

Still, we need

help.

Lost in the wilderness of

New York City, we

search for and

find a secular

healer.

We go to a shrink.

I am a healer. I am a shrink.

You come from darkness and travel from the

ghetto to my underground, primordial

office, a dimly lit circular room

with an analytic couch, a

leather recliner and

one leather

armchair

facing it and a circle of eight leather

armchairs. Periodically, the

round room is bathed

in soothing white,

yellow, or

gold

light. In this surreal sanctuary,

you peel off the false

layers of your

psyches

and tell your New York

stories of trauma.

You were physically, sexually, and/or

emotionally abused. Beaten,

battered, molested, and

violated by phallic

intrusions into

your minds,

bodies,

and souls, you were stripped of hope

and severed from G-d. Your

souls were butchered and

you became ghost

ships floating

in a sea of

darkness.

Now, you are shattered vessels, almost

soulless, drifting in the pitch-black

Void. And you sail into my

subterranean universe,

perhaps by chance

or destiny,

or both,

seeking salvation, saturated and impregnated

with brain-cells flooded with suffering

flowing incessantly assaulting

bombarding imploding

exploding

obliterating your sacred centers

and you are dying;

all of you are

dying.

And so you come from the South Bronx

and Harlem; Bedford-Stuyvesant,

Brownsville, and Bushwick;

East Flatbush and East

New York; Red

Hook and

Sunset

Park.

You come from darkness and travel

from the ghetto. But darkness

is everywhere and you

come from

Bensonhurst, Borough Park, and

Crown Heights; Midwood,

Mill Basin, and Park

Slope; Sea Gate,

Sheepshead

Bay and

Williamsburg.

You come from Coney Island after

dancing on the cold empty

beach or in the barren

streets of winter or

after jogging

on the

Boardwalk during

a snowstorm.

The stark

reality

strips you naked.

You come from any neighborhood

in Brooklyn and from all the

five boroughs, upstate

New York and

Long Island.

You come to me. You confess.

You shed your masks and

reveal the dark,

murky

secrets of your obsessive-

compulsive lives, the

self-defeating

patterns;

the endless chains of self-destruction,

brutal concatenations followed

by insatiable cravings for

magical change,

sudden metamorphoses,

instant vibrant life

or a swift

demise.

But after the mindless cycles of

civil war, you discover

something else-

inside the broken mirrors

hanging on your

walls or in

your fractured souls,

lie dumb beasts

longing for

and

addicted to pain.

And so you come to me and tell

your stories of trauma.

I am a healer. I am a shrink.

Dr. Mel Waldman is a licensed New York State psychologist. He hopes to resume his studies as a candidate in Psychoanalysis at the Center for Modern Psychoanalytic Studies (CMPS) in the near future. He is also a poet, writer, artist, and singer/songwriter. After 9/11, he wrote 4 songs, including Our Song, which addresses the tragedy. His stories and poems have appeared in numerous literary reviews and commercial magazines including AUDIENCE, BEWILDERING STORIES, HAPPY, HOT METAL PRESS, SWEET ANNIE PRESS, POETICA, CHILDREN, CHURCHES AND DADDIES and DOWN IN THE DIRT (SCARS PUBLICATIONS), MAD SWIRL, MY STORY LIVES, PABLO LENNIS, PBW, NEW THOUGHT JOURNAL, THE BROOKLYN LITERARY REVIEW, HARDBOILED, HARDBOILED DETECTIVE, DETECTIVE STORY MAGAZINE, ESPIONAGE, and THE SAINT. He is a past winner of the literary GRADIVA AWARD in Psychoanalysis and was nominated for a PUSHCART PRIZE in literature. Periodically, he has given poetry and prose readings and has appeared on national T.V. and cable T.V. He is a member of Mystery Writers of America, Private Eye Writers of America, American Mensa, Ltd., and the American Psychological Association. Who Killed the Heartbreak Kid?, a mystery novel, was published by iUniverse in February 2006. It can be purchased at iuniverse.com, bn.com, at amazon.com, and other online bookstores or through local bookstores. Some of his poems about Judaism have appeared online in THE JERUSALEM POST and in the NEW VILNA REVIEW. His poetry appears regularly in the JEWISH PRESS. Dark Soul of the Millennium, a collection of plays and poetry, was published by World Audience, Inc. in January 2007. It can be purchased at worldaudience.org, bn.com, at amazon.com, and other online bookstores or through local bookstores. A 7-volume short story collection was published by World Audience, Inc. in May 2007 and can also be purchased online at the above-mentioned sites. I AM A JEW, a book in which Dr. Waldman examines his Jewish identity through memoir, essays, short stories, poetry, and plays, was published by World Audience, Inc. in January 2008. Recently he sold some horror and mystery stories to the British publisher of POSTSCRIPTS. Much of his work has been inspired by the traumatized patients he has treated. He is currently working on a mystery novel inspired by Freuds case studies.

Contact Mel:
mwaldman18@earthlink.net