There is no consciousness without discrimination of opposites…Nothing can exist without its opposite; the two were one in the beginning and will be one again in the end. Consciousness can only exist through continual recognition of the unconscious, just as everything that lives must pass through many deaths. Carl Jung, CW, vol. 9.I, par. 178. […]
I wasn’t very surprised Easter afternoon when I heard a shout from the big kids who were playing volleyball in the side yard. “Snake! Snake!” Alex hopped through the grass like someone trying not to step on hot coals.
A story in this morning’s Orlando Sentinel was about the new book, “Beneath the Surface,” by John Hargrove. He’s a former senior trainer at SeaWorld’s parks who was interviewed for the documentary “Blackfish” after quitting his job in 2012. Apparently his book is opening old wounds in Orlando.
Last Saturday my half-Italian husband told me about a funny thing that happened earlier that day when he was at the grocery store with his brother-in-law, Gary. “Where’s the tomato sauce?” he asks Gary. Gary looks up and points to a sign and says, “Aisle 3. It says ‘tomato sauce.’”
April’s my favorite month in Florida. Actually it’s my favorite month anywhere because it feels like my very own special month. I was born on April 23 in 1943, a year when the 23rd was on Good Friday. I always felt proud of being born on Good Friday as if it meant I was good and would be rewarded with a comfortable life. Now of course I recognize a universal, less auspicious significance to this day.
Since I left my job to write in 1989 I’ve always been part of at least one women’s circle with sometimes as many as four ongoing groups at the same time. My Jungian study group was formed in 1989 and our weekly meetings lasted for ten years. The Purple Pro’s, my writing group, has met monthly since 1990 and usually shared home-cooked lunches. This year is the first we haven’t had a meeting because of changes in our lives that make it too difficult.
I was pondering two questions this morning as we drove to the airport after a long family weekend away: What should I write about for this post? and How should I answer a recent e-mail from an Iranian student? She’s writing a thesis about the anima and animus archetypes in two of Virginia Woolfe’s books and wonders how to approach her task. Should she just look for images represented by the writer or should she study the characters or events as a Jungian analyst would?
It’s noon on Monday and I have five hours to write and schedule a post before I have to stop (we’re attending a Magic basketball game this evening). My posts come out twice a week, at 12:01 a..m. every Tuesday and Friday morning. I’ve been doing this for almost two years and am kind of obsessed about staying on schedule. Last week was unusually busy so I’m under the gun today. Only five hours to come up with a topic and 600 words. Holy crap!
My dragon dream took place in a house that felt just like the one my husband grew up in. I knew that house well as it was only a few miles from my own house. When Fred and I started dating in college I was invited there for many meals, and after our marriage it was the setting of numerous family gatherings and celebrations.
My husband’s ability to tell a good story is one of the things I love most about him. I used to have trouble with it though. Coming from scrupulous-minded, strait-laced Dutch stock, I worried about his blatant distortions of the truth.