Rhythm I hear you calling
As you did right from the start
When I heard you in the womb
From my mother's beating heart

I didn't want to go out
And start this earthly life
'Til you steadied out my breathing
And took away the strife

I feel you on this blank page
You want these lines to ring
You're with me as I walk about
Saying why not dance and sing

The pendulum keeps swaying
The day replaces night
You promise the next season
That dark will soon be light

All the cycles of the month
And full moons of the year
The tides and I ebb and flow
With days of joy and days of fear

That you never miss a beat
Makes this life seem true
You bind me to existence
With your faithful ancient glue

Terry Gross:     Courtney Snyder,....Thank you for being on Fresh Air.

CS:     Thank you, Terry.  Thank you for having me.

TG:       So......I understand that before you were an Pulitzer Prize winning blogger, you were a ...psychiatrist.  That must have been ...pretty different?  

CS:       It was.... In many ways.  For one thing, my vocabulary was different back then. I'd use phrases like... "narcissistic injury, projective identification, avoidant attachment,"....  Now as a blogger, I sometimes use the F word.   I still occasionally use psychological terms, ....when they make me laugh ...but that way of talking and interacting with the world no longer makes sense to me, not in the way that art makes sense to me...not in the way a well placed word that conveys a certain sentiment makes sense to me.   

TG:          You mentioned the F word.  Do you use profanity in your real life

CS:          (BEEP) no. .. very rarely ...seriously - hardly ever.   

TG:        Have you ever felt that psychiatry was inhibiting for you, or that blogging has been liberating.

CS:          Absolutely ... but that didn't happen all at once.  In fact, when I first started blogging, I wanted to say something  "sucked," ... At the time, I thought it conveyed exactly what I needed for a particular post.  But I didn't have the courage, so I ran it by a couple people I'm close to. They found it disagreeable.  I think they thought I was writing as a professional - a psychiatrist. I wasn't.  But also, I didn't realize that they weren't my audience ...I was my audience... along with other people who liked short words that sometimes rhyme with truck.

TG:         So... does that mean you're not motivated to help people through your writing?

CS:        Whenever I go that route with writing,...I get stuck..., so I try hard to resist the desire to be helpful.....I am always hopeful though, that by writing what energizes me and putting it out there, that someone will find inspiration, validation, connection ....but a cure, a fix, help...no.

TG:       Aside from replacing multisyllabic overly-intellectual words with short offensive ones, and becoming less helpful....how else have things changed...

Me:       (pause)...hmm....Well, I'm sure I experience art differently.   In the past, for example, if I read a story in which someone wrote themselves into an a situation, ...maybe one where they've reached success or even fame...you know like.... let's say.. like being on your show .....I probably would've analyzed their unconscious reasons for writing such a story - as if I even knew what those reasons were or  I  might've wondered about their pathological need for  attention.

TG:         And now?

CS:         Now, I'd probably think, ..."Cool.... I want to be on Fresh Air"

TG:         Courtney Snyder, thank you ...SO MUCH for being on the show.

CS:         Thank you Terry - It was really great to be here.

Please send me some compassion
I know... I heard 
It's out of fashion

But life is passing by too fast
Nothing stays
and nothing lasts

I've got a child who needs to talk
I've got a dog 
who needs a walk

And then there's me feeling stressed
I need to breathe
I want some rest

Give me one reason why I should care
There's greater 
suffering everywhere

You say compassion's all we've got
While our food, our homes
our bodies rot

You say compassion's all that lasts
The chance to care
should never pass

I know..your right 
Yes.... I know how
I'll start tomorrow
Okay....
...I'll try to start right now

His voice on tape
Brings him to life
As if he is here
Right next to his wife

So funny and quick
He jokes with his sons
With deep adoration
They parrot his puns

He's in his thirties
They're under ten
He sounds like Jack Benny
Yes, let's play it again

He's not mine to remember
I never met the man
I know him from the future
This far off distant land

I'm sure I would've liked him
With his gentle Jewish wit
I'd love his calm demeanor
And the faces that he lit

His sons will soon outlive him
Reach years he never did
But every time they hear his voice
They'll wish that they were kids

Today he had a birthday
If we have those when we're dead
My husband keeps his memory
In his heart and in his head

And though he never meant to 
He forever changed my life
He made the man I love
And I became a wife

We have his youngest grandchild
For me my only one
His warmth flows to her daily
A life is never done

There comes a time
in every parent's life
when they have to sit down 
with their young child
and explain:

"You know that toy 
you want so badly -
the one you think about
as you fall asleep at night 
and wish for as 
you throw pennies
into the fountain 
at the mall
Yeah..that one...
Well... 
It's sold by a company
whose intent is to
brainwash you
using sophisticated 
market research
that employs 
child psychologists
and neuroimaging studies
all with the purpose
of undermining your
emotional,
intellectual and
spiritual well being
and your human relationships
so that you can better
serve them as a 
sassy
materialistic
entitled
diva
who will increase
their profit margins
and whose 
consumption addiction
will keep wages low
and working conditions
dangerous
in places like 
Bangledesh"
 
I had that talk recently...
I think it went pretty well.

There was a time 
I could think
Ideas had a common link
Now they fray, they fall apart
You'd think I'd had a drink

What I need is
to train this brain
to think a little longer
These thoughts I've chopped into bits 
are wanting to be stronger

They say to me 
"We get no respect
We'd prefer you use a pen
End your affair with Facebook
and your fling with CNN"

"Please, can't you just
read and write
have moments uninterrupted
You go through life distracted
and we hate to be disrupted"

I know they're right
I see their plight
It's time to make a change
The endless clicks and new page shifts
so easily derange

I hope it's enough
to avoid that stuff
and my thoughts can find their peace
to play create and concentrate
before they are deceased

Your cup is filling
Up with doubt
Be careful or
You'll summon drought

Leave your ego
At the door
Your inhibition's 
Such a bore 

Thought - your enemy
You must resist
Keep on writing
So you'll exist

Trust in me
Don't ask why
Except on paper
I won't reply

There's no tomorrow
There's no past
Only words
You have to cast

There's no perfection 
To be found
Just an echo
A broken sound

Forget the paths
Forget the maps
Your life of certainty
Has just collapsed

Dear Impatient Guy Driving Too Close Behind Me,

WTF is wrong with you??!?!
....
I mean....
Why are you so impatient?
Really.
Who was so impatient with you 
when your personality was taking shape?
What formative road were you on 
when someone repeatedly said
in words or actions
"Get out of my f*#&ing way."

And your frustration tolerance,
it seems to be lacking
Who sadly forgot to tell you, 
"No, honey,
you can't always have your way"?

Perhaps in our short time together,
we won't find all the answers,
but still
I feel obliged 
to do my part 
which is to say,
"Sorry buddy -
You can just wait."
....
It's my pleasure....
I wouldn't want to enable
your aggressive 
feelings of superiority
that mask your 
deep-seated 
feelings of inferiority.
I won't be part 
of a world that has 
been so unfair to you.
You're worth more than that.
And I care. 

Sincerely,

The Lady 
in the Car
You Are Now
Speeding Past
 
Nice finger...
Glad I could help.

Sitting at the piano
With my mediocre song
Feels like something's missing
I'm sure I've got it wrong

Cohen tells me softly,
"That's just the way it goes
You'll never sing the ones
you've covered up in clothes"

Dylan nods and mumbles "Yeah
It's not work'n with the lies
Time to find some images 
and trash your old disguise"

Simon seems to be annoyed,
"You wrote that one for them
Unless you write it for yourself
you'll never find a gem"

Somehow though they all agree, 
Love's not the only way
Not when writing songs 
and there's so much more to say

"Forget the overused cliches 
Dig down and find your stuff"
Dylan thinks it's easy 
Cohen thinks it's rough

Simon goes right out the door, 
and says "Melody is gone
It's now about the rhythm 
our original ancient song"

Dylan stays and stares ahead
"There's enough songs in the world...
Unless your heart is pure 
and you've got someth'n to hurl"

Cohen sits calmly near my bench 
still uncovering his mind
"It may not be worth doing 
Are you're willing to go blind?"

Not sure if I'd go that far
So glad you guys dropped in
Wish you could stay all day
But it's time that I begin

"There but for the grace of G-d, go I." 
Are you serious?

What do you think
I pass out
misery and evil 
and ....grace?

You think I'm looking down 
from G-d knows where 
saying:

"Time for that man to lose his legs
Head injury for that mom
Amputation for her daughter
and death for her eight year old son
A lifetime of anxiety
and sleeplessness 
for that rescue worker

Oh and these guys
Their early years
will be filled with
family suffering
maybe
hostility, neglect
or abuse
just enough to
starve them of compassion
and plant seeds of fear and rage
On top of that
I'll give them some
social isolation
job or school problems
depression or other mental illness
Then
I'll bump them up 
against a radical community
of wounded others
Or maybe I'll just 
give them a horrible
early start and the rest
will follow
Lastly
I'll set them 
in a time and place
where violence
is celebrated 
where they'll have no problem
buying or making things
that can kill a lot of people
There
Perfect
 
Wait
I still need to get
all these folks together
maybe at a marathon
That should do it

Oh yeah
and for the rest of you 
Here's some grace
You'll be fine."

Is that what you think?

Don't flatter yourself
You could've been 
any one of them
and not because of me