I’m reluctant to call myself old. As common perceptions go, I feel at least 20 years younger, being curious and interested in everything. I just got a bit slow with manual tasks, procrastinating in executing them when my superego demands action. I’ve never been at easy terms with my superego; love/hating my hilarious authority complex.
Among parents, siblings, children, writers, artists, philosophers, teachers, the circle of minds that influenced and still influence me and in some cases vice versa seems vast. Despite being a hermit at heart, circumstances led me to engage with a rich variety of people, groups, colleagues, communes, film teams, social projects, journeys, clients. Like in a well-lived-in home with accumulated treasures, our countless interconnections with others settle and live on in us. Some memories are only partly woven into the fabric of our lives, with loose threads keen to be integrated.
A bonus of old age for me, are vivid dreams. The characters playing are usually people, dead or alive, I related to over time. In these dreams I experience undercurrents of feelings, rarely expressed but also informing the relationships. I catch my subtle projections onto people and their projections onto me. Like I tend to be guarded of controlling people, but like to be in charge myself J
These messages are quite confusing to absorb, and I ponder whether the awareness of such subconscious narratives changes the memory in my psyche, and has any subliminal effect on the characters involved, dead or alive – based on my belief that the psyche is a timeless phenomenon. Insights can arrive during daydreams. It could be a slight lift of the spirit or a feeling of unease, like a cloud swirling round the head.
Do we sense when people think of us? My paternal grandmother considered this happens when my nose itches. She also advised me to pull unpleasant thoughts from my nose via a downward stroke with my fingers, and then flick the thoughts away.
Her quirky tips were what a modern day influencer might employ.
I’m sometimes embarrassed about my ignorance – that is – not seeing where people might be coming from, be it the motivation for their interactions, secrets withheld, questions not asked, missed resonances, words meant in kindness, or in sudden spite or error, all the subtle hurts we inflict on each other, all of which just as well applies to me.
There seem to be polarized opinions regarding narratives … if it ends badly so be it. Attempts to make things well are soppy. Resolved and happy endings, though desired by some, can come over as insincere or boring to others. My preferences vary, according to the mood of the day, maybe yours too.
Our media is dominated by bad news, often too weird to be real, feeding a hunger for sensation, an entrenched feature of human nature that may be based on a masochistic and self-destructive mechanism in response to grief, rejection, resentment, disillusionment or lack of gratification.
All is Well … All is Bad, and a labyrinth between them for getting lost.
Clearly, we seek acknowledgement for our existence, be it through love or hate, but at least a nod for having some function in this game of living. Some players cause mayhem and are reviled or heralded; others are envied or applauded for personal or social achievements, sharing a life’s work, or for nourishing friendships.
Attention is never guaranteed, one moment we are valued by some, scorned by others, and next we are forgotten. Some of us get too much attention, some too little, some the wrong kind, some none at all.
It’s the way of life.
I conceive of the concept of soul families, whose members meet again and again, in different times and environments, with different roles … psychological constellations that provide a precious testing ground for becoming human. I don’t think it is farfetched. It chimes with some eastern traditions, like Karma.
What annoys us in others often pinches at a trait we have ourselves, sobering when revealed. C. G. Jung put a bright beam on the unconscious complexes and shadow aspects of personhood. It should make us marvel at the intricate dynamic intelligence by which the psyche adjusts our perspectives in unseen energetic ways, sometimes surfacing during odd moments in relationships, and, quite regularly in dreams – for this I’m grateful.
Nature works in such mysterious ways we can’t possibly out-think it.
of impact and send the pain back, assuming the wood tolerates it better than my soft tissue. It’s a long-honoured small-scale experiment with disentangling subtle vibrations. It works for me – pain and swelling ease miraculously. Try it, for fun.
As in receiving and sending waves, I converse with my body, with trees, shrubs, flowers and creatures. I caution spiders not to come near my sleeping space. I have heart-to-heart chats with my house, laptop, car, and all manner of things. I say thank you to what I value and depend upon and even use little mantras conveying something like – all is well – I hear you gasp. I do this to disrupt mindless automatic response patterns. With people, I admit, it’s way more complicated.
During recent centuries, western cultures developed multiple viewpoints. But what is happening to this wonderful diversity, given the hyper connectivity of the internet, where the masses turn for guidance, where people empowered by visibility offer opinions that swing back & forth in dramatic ways? Is this the dawn of a new tribalism that blanks out the unique contexts and realities of individual minds? One has to have one’s wits about these days.
The flashing mirrors of the media blind me at times. Wary of the hive, I also like to belong. When fed up, in need of digestion, I retreat to a cave in my mind (once real) where I attend to what bubbles up from the unconscious in that zone between dreaming and waking, until I emerge from my cave into the light of a new reality, new beauty, new meaning and new questions.
16/17th September 2016 was a strange night of wild dreams – one of a big old mansion of which I occupy a part (I actually live in a semi,) while the other part is lived in by an aging famous actor, Jeremy Irons. In the dream he collects antique furniture, art objects and frames. Some large pieces, including a massive empty frame, he fixes onto a wall in the courtyard. We mainly meet in the wide inner hall of the mansion. He seems a little absentminded but quite amicable and kind. He likes that I talk to him.
Course of Mirrors 