Tag Archives: symbol

Memories, Dreams, Reflections [Carl Jung]

10 Aug

Memories, Dream, Reflection by Carl Jung and Anne Jaffe took me a good portion of the summer to read from cover to cover. This auto/biography has provided a great deal of meaning and symbolic significance to my personal perspective. I interacted with the text, reading and writing with a pen and highlighter handy; below are a few of many sentences extracted from the book that speak volumes in the space of a few sentences.

As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light of meaning in the darkness of mere being.

***

“Bidden or not bidden, God is present.” Carl Jung, the eminent psychologist, had this quote carved over the front door of his Zurich home, as well as on his tombstone. It is an English translation of the Latin “Vocatus Atque Non Vocatus Deus Aderit”, a quotation he came across when studying Erasmus. The words are said to originate from the reply given by Delphic Oracle to the Spartans when they were planning a war against Athens: “Yes, the Gods will be present, but in what form and to what purpose?”

***

Life has always seemed to me like a plant that lives on its rhizome. Its true life is invisible, hidden in the rhizome. The part that appears above ground lasts only a single summer. Then it withers away an ephemeral apparition.

When we think of the unending growth and decay of life and civilizations, we cannot escape the impression of absolute nullity. Yet I have never lost a sense of something that lives and endures underneath the eternal flux. What we see is the blossom, which passes. The rhizome remains.

***

When people say I am wise, or a sage, I cannot accept it. A man once dipped a hateful of water from a stream. What did that amount to? I am not that stream.

I am at the stream, but I do nothing. Other people are at the same stream, but most of them find they have to do something with it. I do nothing. I never think that I am the one who must see to it that cherries grow on stalks. I stand and behold, admiring what nature can do.

There is a fine old story about a student who came to a rabbi and said, “In the olden days there were men who saw the face of God. Why don’t they any more?” The rabbi replied, “Because nowadays no one can stoop so low”.

One must stoop a little in order to fetch water from the stream.

***

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Control of rodent motor cortex with an optical neural interface

6 Aug

Control of rodent motor cortex with an optical neural interface.

The beam of blue light down the canal!
Once upon a time, not that long ago, I visualized the energy of someone meditating on the idea of time. What I saw captivated me, humbling my breath to a silent standstill in awe of the wonder. The sensation and visualization of that experience entered my waking unconscious in a lucid dream, that I drew and wrote about at lengths upon waking. I must have written 3 or 4 poems circumscribing to the best of my ability what that experience was. The heart of the matter was a ribbed tunnel, a round blue sound, a beam of peace, neon, blue and infinite.
I read the linked article above and I cannot help but consider the connection between the blue light beam canal and what came to me during a visualization.

What Keeps Me Up at Night

28 Jul

Featured Image: “Her Morning Truth” by BeMused by Design 2010©

Plinky Prompt of the day asks me: what keeps me up at night? What doesn’t–where to begin…

What keep me up at night?

Curiosity. Patience while allowing the unconscious to give insight while I’m unguarded on the unresolved and unbalanced gaps in my individuation and integrity of character.

A recent quandary: Who shrugged Atlas?

Powered by Plinky

Dream Journal Free Write

22 Jul

Dream Journal Free Write

Last night I had a dream epiphany.

Over the course of my life, and underlying theme and realization across dreams is the appearance of a pen with red ink.

During my dream, I realized I was realizing this in a dream when I lifted the veil of dream illusion and saw a pen with red ink was writing it out. This scared the crap out of me. I felt like a puppet, where I was controlled unbeknownst to me throughout the course of my dream when I really focused ( and I still believe this to be true because it is true the pen with red ink is all over my waking sleep). My dream analysis in my dream is this was a split of my personality. The red ink pen was interpreted like a student. It is my self-criticism writing and expressing my deviations from ideal. Upon waking and reflecting on this dream, however, the God-fearing the epiphany inspired in me and puppetry sensation and what I saw was a glimpse at the predestination predetermination fate and collective unconscious level.

Before I feel asleep I was thinking about synchronicity: Carl Jung’s theory of acausal parallelism.

After the red ink dream.

Play this song while you read about the second dream. I listened to it on repeat yesterday, and when I turned it back on again today, the colors and spirit of the song bled into the same residual sentiment of my dream.

Bigger Than My Body [John Mayer, Heavier Things, 2003}

Dream #2: A narrative type of dream, again like two night ago, it stuck me as unusual because it was in the first person and a narrative.  The first dream of the night latent with symbols and thinking outside myself is more my typical dream. Or perhaps, the type of dream I awake with a memory of experiencing for that very reason. Regardless, my narrative dream:

Valentines Day. I was at the bay of a large body of water, a river I am supposing because of the bridge that crossed it was in the distance. A very foggy and cool crispy day, and yet, the sky was cloudless. Dreary grey February. Many people, my family and other city folk who filled the spaces, were hanging out at the bay. There was a sky writer. Valentines day. There was already some writing in the sky from one love to another, and seemingly out of nowhere, another daring  sky writer appeared. He wrote in humongous capital letters, dropping  hundreds of feet to assert the message in perfect script. He was writing my name: E. M. I. L…..suddenly, the earlier letters fogged together and he started to finish the name he was actually writing: Elana. The last letter was A. He plunged down from the top going to make the bottom line, and BOOM! The plane ignited on fire and exploded in front of all of the waterfront onlookers.  The planes torpedoed into the river and the pilot, tangled in his own parachute, splashed along with the smoldering hunk of metal and propellers.

One moment later, he appeared. Walking out of the water like his legs grew the length to match its depth, be began walking towards the shore, unscathed. I ran and rushed to meet him, asking if he needed anything, an ambulance, anything. A long procession of children carrying memorial plane scraps in two single filed lines were walking behind him (where did they come from?) and a posse of people from the sky writing company brushed me off:” Silly girl, we have procedure for this you know, he is fine, just an accident, and did you see the form of those letters, he almost finished, Perfect!” They were women and men with blonde hair and those cell phone that attach to your face hands free in grey formal business attire. I watched the process of children following them arise from the river, and I awoke.

Harmony of Dissonance

18 Jul

My Mandala: Listening Inside For Melody from Ripping

Deep Breathing, BeMused by Design

18 Jul

Deep Breathing

And Fish Don’t Blink.

30 Jun

When you stare out into the universe, the universe stares back.

Now, imagine a fish.

The philosophical statement and the concept of a fish fit into a common associative category, or at least, it feels like the two fit together better than they don’t fit together.

I’m still reading Memories, Dreams & Reflections by Carl Jung, and once again, a simple statement he made in passing warped my mind into a whirlpool.  He was describing a dream of his with a fish which he referred to as “…an unconscious and mute fish…”

It seems strange to me that unconscious and mute were explicitly stated: both are implicit assumptions when conceptualizing a fish. From there my mind wandered, wondering if unconscious and mute were used to describe the fish as a literary function, like an inverted mirror, functioning to point out to the reader that the non-fish and human characters in the dream are vocal and conscious creatures.

When you stare out into the universe, the universe stares back; however, the sense or feeling of the universe staring back is elusive and evades all quantification and calculations that could prove this using the scientific method. Such is the way of transcendental beliefs and a test of spiritual resolve: faith is acknowledged in silence.

A fish underwater may stare at the surface, and from above one may stare back. However, the mute and unconscious fish does not know the presence as the presence knows it, sensing it yet not with a mutual understanding.

Infinity is two-sided. Staring into the universe is the infinite, and staring into the unconscious is infinitesimal: macro and micro representations of infinity.

Truth is constantly unfolding, and at this moment the above statement is my closest understanding in investigating my associate between the philosophical statement and the idea of a fish.

The Red Book

10 Jun

The Red Book by Carl Jung

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In the rare books room at Powell’s Books, I stumbled upon The Red Book on display, pages free for the flipping. The images Jung used to express the active imagination told the story when the dutch failed to translate (for me).

They Resonate. Deeply.

Interim Dream Journal

27 May

Lucid. Gradually, Lucid.

The dream began through my eyes in first person narrative and I died.

Dying and reawakening was confusing because when I came back to (from a coma in the hospital), I remembered being dead and through trying to reconnect and capture the memory of my death, I began to a crew all meta-cognitive functions while still in my dream. My perspective shifted from first person to their person, where I saw my body, had seamless access to the thought inside that body that were simultaneously flowing in my mind, but I was a soul and had no finger to point at lack of body. I relived the scene of my death. I was lucid and I knew it.

The dream felt like a thousand years long. I chose to relive the scene of my death and the aftermath of the hospital and then revisit the scene of my death again to face my fears of going back.

The dream took me to the ocean. There was a log floating in the middle of the ocean where we (self, brother, and people who I have and do care about, past) were swimming and splashing and playing. People started to leap on top of the floating log and shuffle across, jumping before it vanished into the vanishing horizon’s drop off. I was alive and loving the admiration of wide sparkling eyes  and up turned heads and the balance, speed, fearlessness and courage I challenged the task of the log with. Glowing, the admiration made me feel capable and I believed in my ability to soar. I went fast and fast across the lumber, saw there was an end to the horizon and while all the voices were shouting cautionary warning at me, I leapt and everything faded to black. Eternity. I vanished. I dissolved, I absolved, I dissipated, Everything I was and Nowhere and in no time I was particles drifting and humming on a melody with the ocean mist blowing where I desired, I was peaceful and peace.

I awoke in my drea in a hospital bed. My brother mom and dad were around me and I was confused and tired and in pain and like the IV attached to my arm, I gained memory slowly like dripping nutrients. They said I had been out for a long time and had gotten a concussion jumping over the edge of the oceans horizon. I said that’s not what happened, I had died and came back and jumped into the darkness and I floated. We returned to the scene of the incident, and I got back in the water. At this point I knew that I was dreaming and I relived the memory of my death (the dream repeated with meta-cognitive function and perspective). I was lucid and chose to stay in the scene and investigate its depth and beauty from all angles. I was in the ocean, just having awaken from a coma, and thought about why I came back here if I could go anywhere. I thought about the admiration for me courage that the others gave to me. I beamed. I loved that feeling, again. I relived it, again. I thought about the feeling of challenging borders and limits and the adventure f fearlessness against the body. I thrived and glowed. I was back for that, again. Is this ego Is this alive? whatever it was, I love that feeling, and I will chase it until the day I die. In the ocean again it was more difficult to swim as my limbs were weak. I called out for help and attention and there was a system of friend to support me and bring me to a boey. One person checked my legs to see if they were tired from treading water. They were not. I had reaffirmed my ability to continue on. I reached the horizon again and looked at it from al angels. My brother was there with me, beside me, the entire time. This time I saw that jumping over the edge may kill my body but I would not die. I exhaled salty ocean air and inhaled from sunshine. I awoke.

Edit: Walking home in the rain today. A red crack of a black light burst and ripped through the scene of for a millisecond, the illusion of the world, gray, bleak, wetness and slabs of cement sided with forrest and flowers, drained and disappeared. I look around me for passing cars or some easy explanation for the glitch. Answer sounded in rolling thunder about ten seconds after I begged the curious question. Like a jolt,  forgotten fragments of the above dream revived their vision and reclaimed life from the hallows of buried memory. They go as follow: there were three distinct bodies of water in my dream. A) a swimming pool, where a girl I casually know shared her swim teams challenge, how she had to tread water for four hours after the race in order to be an elite racer on her swim team. B) the aquatics center I played in as a kid, with huge slides and pseudo-tidal waves and C) The Ocean, where my first attempt upon recording the dream narrative began.

Lucid Ocean Dreamer

Creatrix

2 Mar

(Note: Below is a Word Document that I created one year ago today. Same Quest, Quantum Questions.)

THE SACRED FEMININE TATTOO

a) a representation of each archetype embracing an image/ symbol of me

b) all archetypes coalesce into a composite image

Notes:

*’Shakti’ means life energy. The Bhagavad Gita says, “Without Shakti, Shiva is nothing.”

*The Sacred Feminine is seen as many things…:

Changing one,

She who denotes life death and rebirth.

She is fertile, Fecund one who ruts in the fields,

She is the Terrible one who devours and destroys,

She is the Loving arms and Nurturing breasts

And the sacred Yoni, the Transformative one.

CrEaTriX

The Sacred Feminine

Bright Mother:

Conceives, births, and sustains life;

Encourages and empowers creativity;

Encourages independence and individuation;

Intuitively knows in her body being the cycles/seasons of birth, life, & death.

Shadow Mother:

Her own mother-wound is unhealed;

Has not individuated/separated from her mother;

Merged with her mother’s negativity/toxicity;

Clings to what is dying/decaying, doesn’t let go;

Can not nurture life due to her own wounds;

Cuts off emotionally instead of separating in a healthy way.

Bright Amazon:

Knows how to accomplish things in the world;

Serves Truth not ego, no matter what the cost to her ego;

Faces her fears directly and embraces her shadow, is committed to her inner work, growth;

Faces others’ shadow  & negativity with courage, heart & skillful means;

Can say “No” and “Yes” appropriately & clearly;

Keeps agreements and commitments with self and others,  is faithful, reliable & on time;

Stands up for and protects her inner child;

Can plan, strategize, make decisions & take right action that serves highest Truth not ego;

Not a victim – owns responsibility & actions.

Shadow Amazon:

Lives & acts from fear rather than love;

Overly controlled, rigid, defensive, abusive;

Sees herself as a victim, cannot stand up for her own inner child or her own heart;

Can be masochistic & self-effacing;

Aggressive – abusive – pushy – disrespectful;

Unable to plan, decide, carry action through to completion – gives up/collapses;

Cultivates confrontation, provocative.

Bright Lover:

Loves to love, merge, connect, relate – seeks relatedness, inter-dependence, real contact;

Spontaneous, playful, childlike;

Sensual, sexual, erotic, embodied, shame-less;

Values and enjoys emotion;

Loves & creates dance, art, music, poetry;

Lover and Creatrix of beauty, clothes, home, gardens, ambience – lives life as art;

Seeks communion with all of life;

Devotional, reverent, romantic, ecstatic;

Deep longing for the mystical experience & ecstasy;

Heart-full, forgiving, empathetic, caring, compassionate, relational.

Shadow Lover:

Not embodied, doesn’t care for body/health;

Unhealthy boundaries with people, food, substances;

Addictions – compulsive behaviors: eating, smoking, gambling,

Feels a lot of shame, guilt, self-hate;

Cut off sexually, sensually – puritanical;

Sexually kinky – uses sex to replace love or fill emptiness;

Unable to love or be vulnerable – cold or hostile;

Dependent and/or co-dependent – counter-dependent;

Denies needs, wants, feelings, intimacy, contact;

Idealizes others & denigrates self, feels unworthy;

Fears abandonment, loss of love;

Self-sacrificing, self-depriving, self-denying;

Shut down or cut off emotionally or physically, numb;

Giving or receiving are difficult if not impossible;

Full of negative emotions – feels like a victim of life.

Bright Mystic/Medial:

Loves the Unknown, willing to not know, willing to be willing;

Midwifes ideas, images, information, guidance from other dimensions;

Imaginative, loves knowledge & is strongly intuitive;

Walks the border between the physical manifest reality and other dimensions of reality – she moves between dimensions;

Spiritual teacher, priestess, healer, ritual maker, shamaness, teacher, poet, dreamer, artist, crone, scientist, alchemist, witch, psychotherapist;

Seeks and values knowledge, education, wisdom;

Has found her own internal spiritual authority;

Grounded, embodied, earth-connected;

Transformer, transmuter, midwife of the magical;

Knows spiritual power comes through her, isn’t hers, and uses it non-egoically with integrity, consciousness, & surrender;

Seeks power, healing and knowledge for the good of her community, not for self-aggrandizement.

Shadow Medial/Mystic:

Fears or refuses to answer the call to serve or use spiritual gifts to serve others – may become mentally or physically ill as a result;

Lives up in the ethers, denies body & embodiment;

Ungrounded, spacey, psychotic, borderline, chaotic;

Detached, cold, uncaring, calculating;

Does not do her own inner work, lives unconsciously;

Feels no connection to any spiritual life or higher presence,

Composite images or mothers hugging me.

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