Stand outside In your backyard on a night of a new moon. Preferably a cloudy night too, No stars, pitch black, dark
If artificial light disturbs the darkness go to your basement. Decide on which place is the darkest and stand there for a while taking in the blankness of its attributes.
How does it feel? Absorb the feeling. Is it one of peace or fear? What is it? Why is it? Which have you defaulted to?
Writing a memoir, especially one that includes exploration of the dark side of everything, including God, is hard work. It makes me want to go to analysis because I have begun to see much I haven’t see before. Stuff I didn’t even know existed. Amina is one.
Loren Pedersen writes, “the more in touch with the inner feminine a man is, the more comfortable he is likely to be with inner self-exploration. The anima, as a potential connection to his unconscious, may appear personified in his dreams and fantasies.”
When I picked up his book Dark Hearts, one that was leant to me, I had little interest. That was at the beginning of August. I am now the proud owner of the book and reading it at the fast clip of about two pages a day. No meat here. Hah!
“All wrong.” Biff then added in Arthur Miller’s Death of a Salesman. “The man didn’t know who he was.”
I can identity. Can you?
My quest is to unearth my dark side and my angst is serving me.
Some mornings I feel like my walk is over and other mornings I am just beginning.
I need to be Harry and to have Hermine, characters in Hermann Hesse’s Steppenwolf.
Oh wait, I think my life’s partner was Hermine in an earlier life. Was I Harry?
If you speak German, then you know the meaning of the word “urstoff”. You might also quarrel with the definition I list. I understand urstoff as the primary stuff of the universe. Stuff that has persisted and undergone change.
Yesterday seems trivial today. That’s the succinct way of saying it. For me it took time, more than a day, more than a week. After years of hurts and healings, I arrived at today.
I watch our teenage dog full of energy. I suppose that energy once had to have been mine. A body without a brain, or as my Jungian friends might say, with loads of unconsciousness. What suns eventually come to awaken bits of it? Who would we be if all of it awoke? Would we be happier?
There is a powerful video piece on the NY Times website today. Look up “Notes on Blindness” written by Peter Middleton and James Spinney. It is about a man named John Hull who as an adult has gone from sight to blindness.