Why is it that I find myself in places in life where I think that what is going on is “bad,” or something is so “wrong” with me so that I truly must be defective.
If what Jung says is true, then I have not been able to communicate with you what is important to me or my views are such that they would be so far out from the “norm,” that I would be criticized, shunned, made to be an outcast for my views.
Since there are two potential reasons for the “loneliness,” I am experiencing, I think I will address them one at a time.
What is important to me today? When I get silent and sit with that idea I see my friends who suffer. I see them as they pace the floor, or run on the trail trying to get away from them self. My friends whose daily life is one of pain, confusion, chronic discomfort which surely includes an unhealthy does of fear. I see my self “wandering,” aimlessly in the world. What is it that we seek? Connection, being a part of, contributing to the greater good, feeling better?
I was having a discussion yesterday and the idea of my writing came up. It is only in finding the aesthetic value in the world, in the world of image and a connection to that place that we all have or had at one time where we get relief. That place that was alive in us where we found a way to be, where we feel like there is a common thread that exists in and for all of us. A place where we can express our pathology without risk of retribution, condemnation, shame!
As I learn, go down the path of knowledge of the dis-ease I suffer with, I see that it is only in sharing the discomfort that I feel a connection to those around me. Why is it not in the sharing of joy that I feel a connection to those who are here also. Is it because of those experiences in life which began my journey of armoring myself so much that I would not be able to experience any of those things that bring laughter. The skipping down the street, the throwing of a ball, the sight of a fish on my fishing pole. The armor that I have created is that thing which keeps me alive yet kills me in a way that makes it so being alive is arduous. Not worthless but a task.
So what do I do? I really dont have an answer but as I write this I am led back to the beginning of this writing and it shows me that it is only in the world of image, or myth, that there is relief.
What is my charge then knowing this? I dont have an answer at 6:17 in the morning for this. What I know is that when I am lost, when I am scared, the best thing I can do is do something that is right in front of me, to do the ritual of life, and then usually the feeling or thought dissipates and there is room for that which is different, that moment which may have more room for hope, for joy, than that which just passed.
Carl Jung; Memories Dreams and Reflections; Page 356.
RIP Jon, Robin, Ajaytao, Jason, who were my Brothers under the Bridge