Door into Ocean

"But one must learn to know oneself in order to know who one is. For what comes after the door is, surprisingly enough, a boundless expanse full of unprecedented uncertainty . . . it is the world of water." (Jung, 1969, p. 21)

Dead Trees

I am often mesmerized by the form trees take in the winter. Simple, naked, dark limbs provide such a stark contrast to the pristine white snow that lays innocently over them. It is such a beautiful example of the cycle of death. A tree rids itself of the cumbersome leaves of the previous year and with each leaf, it slowly suffers, dies a little, in order to restore its vitality for the upcoming year. The tree in a Hillman sense experiences a displaced passageway through a door, shedding it previous self, to die and be reborn again.

Death, Transition, Remembering, Doors

The passage through a door or window represents death, but it doesn’t represent the end of life. In fact, it represents the rebirth or transition of one’s life into something else; some say something more magnificent or more enlightened. In order to release the opposition of the two worlds gained through the transition, it is necessary to experience loss and remember what has been lost. This cycle of loss, death, transition, remembering and rebirth, by crossing through a passageway, is exemplified by the ancient Sumerian myth of Inanna, and her descent into the underworld. In her journey, she loses everything material and external, allowing her to be reborn with the more important gift of knowledge.

Death Ain't Half Bad?

There is an older woman delivering a manifesto in the coffee shop I am currently studying at. She has cornered some young college students and is talking about the government declaring martial law in MT, secret concentration camps, and other secret conspiracies that we aren't aware of. She is not worried for the older experienced, wiser generation, no, she is worried about the younger generation. I am intently listening for the key to this dissertation and then it comes. "Thankfully, I have found Jesus Christ, the lord our savior. This enables me to sleep at night." Simultaneously while I am listening to this woman spout, I am reading about "doors and windows" and "death and rebirth." I come upon this information, "But death is also something which has been notoriously misunderstood, and in many respects, this misunderstanding has been promulgated, encouraged, and promoted as a means of control by various covert agendas." Then I hear the woman speak of Satan and the moralesness of people. Then I realize things are so interconnected. Death, fear, control, and hidden agendas. Death isn't to be feared, that is what Hillman is trying to repeatedly express in his novel. Death has been given a negative image to illicit fear, to gain control from various parties. Death isn't the end, it is just the decomposition of your material self, the passage to another realm of consciousness. Does this make the year's of programming to view death in a certain light any easier to change? I am not quite sure, but I am beginning to understand how words are manipulated to gain control, everything is cyclical, doesn't have one definition, but is fluid. Now I just have to figure out how to survive amongst the changing definitions.

The Science of Sleep

Melanie, has attempted to light a fire under my non-rapidly blogging behind. So Melanie Smith, I dedicate this blog to you. I recently watched an amazing movie very pertinent to this class. A movie that everyone should see entitled, "The Science of Sleep." It is directed by Michael Gondry who directed "Eternal Sunshine on the Spotless Mind." One of my all time favorite movies. The main character Stephane's "fanciful dream life begins bleeding into his real life". Michael Gondry explores not outer, but rather inner, space. He also explores the interaction between the worlds we inhabit: nature, society, and the mind. This very much relates to our discussions in Sexson's classes. How do our anxieties, hopes, fears, and yearnings affect our dreams and our reality? What do the dreams mean for our waking life? Where do the dreams end and the reality begin?

Boycotting Reality

Sexson sarcastically posed the question in class on Wednesday, "Who would like to live in the world of Don Quixote and Romanticism?" Where is the fun in that! Especially, when we can live in a world of hyper realism, where everything we do and say is exactly how it happened, total and utter fact. Amidst modern society's obsession with reality television, celebrity gossip (I am guilty of reading US Weekly daily), and the latest political or social scandal, I am beginning to long for a world of Romanticism. A world in which there are values in place and honor to be gained through one's actions of nobility and valour. Where people's fate is determined upfront based on their actions and character. There is no accountability for one's own actions. Our sue happy society has managed to find a way to pass the blame to anything and everything around them. I am sick and tired of watching ridiculous people degrade themselves for a lens, fame, and money. The fact that I know more about Britney Spears pathetic life and not about how to improve daily life around me is...quite frankly...sad. So maybe I will start my Quixote revolution, in which delusions of grandeur and honor take center stage over REALITY, Bluck:(

Blog Accessories

Julie is amazing and taught me how to post photos today. This picture accesorizes my pink blog site sooo nicely:)

The difficulty of intellectualism

It is very inspiring to read Frye, Hillman and Freud, but at the same time it is very frustrating. I am in awe of their genius and intellect, but couldn't they make their writing just a tad more digestible and enticing? I would like to be able to comprehend and discuss these writings on a deeper level, but quite frankly sometimes I just don't understand what the heck they are saying???? Freud appears to be a coke addict and ego maniac, in love with his own genius at times. Hillman and Frye, I don't even know what they are saying to take a jab at them. Let's hope my trusty winter companions can help decipher some of the mystery for me.

Also I am in the process of bribing some of my technology buddies to help me "pimp my blog." So stay tuned:)

Re-Imagining Rapunzel

Rhea woke up and cried to her partner Stella, “I want to have a baby. We have tried and tried to no avail. I need a baby, I want a baby. There is nothing else I crave!” Rhea’s partner Stella knew how hard they had tried to conceive, but it just wasn’t working. The nursery they had painted and prepared stayed empty. The toys they had bought were still in their pristine boxes stacked in the closet. She had to find something to occupy her partner’s thoughts. She couldn’t keep up with her constant and costly demands.

Stella did remember Rhea commenting on something peculiar she had seen and couldn’t get out of her thoughts. Rhea’s eyes lit up when she saw it and for an instance Stella thought she maybe able to get some rest. Their neighbor, John kept an immaculate tool shed. The shed contained wrenches, saws, hammers, and most of all an amazing drill bit. The drill bit was stainless steel and had a chrome handle. It glittered in the afternoon sun, when he was fixing the fence that provided a barrier between their two yards. If Stella could get that drill bit, then Rhea could begin a project and not lay in bed all day. Stella made a decision to steal the power tool.

She woke up, jumped the fence and ransacked the tool shed until she found the prize item she was looking for. Then she galloped back to Rhea, holding her prize high. Rhea was ecstatic, but in order to complete the chicken coup she had begun, she needed a screw driver. Stella knew where to find one and jumped back over the fence to grab it out of the tool shed. In mid flight, Stella realized she was plummeting right into John.

John was furious over his stolen goods and he demanded that Stella give John the first chick that their chickens produced. Well, Stella and Rhea produced a baby chick in the fall and were forced to hand it over immediately to John. They watched as John looked at the chick, named it “Yellow,” and locked it up in a high coup with no ladder. Each day the neighbors heard Yellow chirp and chirp, but only John was able to muster his way up to the coup and see Yellow.

After some time, the neighbors saw Yellow, who had blossomed from a fuzzy chick into a matured hen, standing on the ledge of her coup. She was staring at a crow that had landed on a nearby branch. They saw Yellow spread her wings, leap, and fly to the ground. Once she had dismounted, Yellow scurried into the brush, not to be seen or heard from again.

I did it!

Just stepped into the new world of technology. I am very proud of myself for doing this. I have rebelled against all things associated with MySpace, Facebook, what have you, as they are all forms of glorified yearbooks that never go away! In fact, they are just excuses for people to post semi-nude photos of themselves in which they gloat about how attractive and drunken they are in adulthood (clearly I am not that bitter about high school:). So thanks to my English 510 class for forcing me to post my thoughts that will be permanently lost into techno space.