The Physical Being that is "Me"

Overall I don't think I do a very good job of honoring the physical being that is me.  I only half take care of my physical being, while half neglecting it.  How can I honor it more and make a deeper commitment?

A Bridge Taken Away

A bridge taken away
From a part of me inside
Leaving a wake of longing

To feel what's felt beneath
But with increased immediacy
With increased intensity

Turning around but the bridge is gone
Each step towards does not bring it forth
It only allows one to see the other side
And the gap that now exists in between

Reflections on Various Energies Within

At times it feels a bit confusing...  Within me there exists a scientist... There also exists a wannabe artist...  And there also exists a therapist...

Each have their own pull and seem to want to come out at random varied times...  Though I feel the latter get in touch with the parts of myself I really like to bathe in...  A warm energy overtakes my being...

To Touch

Of all mediums, music tends to be the one to touch the parts of me that like to be touched...  To be stirred... To be moved internally... A part shared by many...

Our Relationship to Our Psychic Selves

I wonder if that's just an introvert thing (or maybe it's not exclusive to introverts)...  Or if it's more an Fi thing, balancing our conduct and behavior with the energies within...

Swept Up?

How can we tell if we're swept up on some forces unseen to us... driving us to do things that may or may not be harmful?

When it comes to conflict, there's some strange phenomenon that goes on:  The need to be "right" often puts us in "the wrong."

Irony of Needing to Be Alone When Lonely

The interesting thing is
I need to be away
To connect to myself
Even just for a few days

Confession, Elucidation, Education, and Transformation

(From "Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche" "The Discovery of Meaning in the Idividuation Process" pg 221 von Franz)

Jung once divided the main events in psychological treatment into these four stages.  I feel like "Confession" is still something I very much have to work on.

According to Jung, the purpose of Confession "is to relieve the individual of painful, repressed secrets or affects that isolate him from his fellow human beings."

"It is," says Jung, "as though man had an inalienable right to behold all that is dark, imperfect, stupid, and guilty in his fellow men."  And, "It seems to be a sin in the eyes of nature to hide our inferiority--just as much as to live entirely on our inferior side.  There would appear to be a sort of conscience in mankind that severely punishes everyone who does not somehow and at some time, at whatever cost to his virtuous pride, cease to defend and assert himself, and instead confess himself to be fallible and human.  Until he can do this, an impenetrable wall shuts him off from the vital feeling that he is a man among men."

Healing of Old Wounds

Festering old wounds allowed to drain...
Allowed to breath...
So the process of healing can resume and take its natural course...

Shards of Sand

Jabbing, piercing, stabbing
Into the raw spaces
Until turned to pearl...

Winter Appearances

What appears dead, dry, and lifeless in Winter
Often hides what lies latent beneath...

The Arbitrariness of Many Aspects of Our Lives

It's pretty amusing how we create artificial importance.  I love this excerpt from an Sports Illustrated article honoring the late Sam Kellerman:

Sam could think and articulate as fast as his big brother, lie in wait listening and then wreak havoc with a reply. Once, debating why man had invented sports, Sam unloaded this haymaker: "Sports is man's joke on God, Max. You see, God says to man, 'I've created a universe where it seems like everything matters, where you'll have to grapple with life and death and in the end you'll die anyway, and it won't really matter.' So man says to God, 'Oh, yeah? Within your universe we're going to create a sub-universe called sports, one that absolutely doesn't matter, and we'll follow everything that happens in it as if it were life and death.'" Which delighted Max, because he craved a foil, someone who would compel him to hurl ever bigger and heavier numbers.

Missed Opportunities

When we miss Golden Opportunities...
Do we come back hungrier than ever?
Or do we sink and sulk at what could have been?

The Crazy Teacher...

Hannibal Lecturer feeds brains instead of eating brains...

Though I wonder if he might be stuffing them for his own future consumption...

Hmmm.....