Though the current project started as a series of posts charting my grief journey after the death of my mother, I am no longer actively grieving. Now, the blog charts a conversation in living, mainly whatever I want it to be. This is an activity that goes well with the theme of this blog (updated 2018). The Sense of Doubt blog is dedicated to my motto: EMBRACE UNCERTAINTY. I promote questioning everything because just when I think I know something is concrete, I find out that it’s not.
Hey, Mom! The Explanation.
Here's the permanent dedicated link to my first Hey, Mom! post and the explanation of the feature it contains.
A Sense of Doubt blog post #1838 - Dreams part eleven - The Theatre Dreams
The Dream of Failure
I have dreamed about theatre my whole life. For many years, the dreams were anxiety-driven dreams of failure.
I would arrive at the theater to find out that I am in a show. Either I did not know I was in the show at all or I did not know opening night was upon us. In all cases, I do not know my lines. In the dream, I am always forced to go on stage, and I fail since I do not know my lines, what to do, or in many cases, I am not even sure what show I am in.
The dreams repeated often through most of the early to middle parts of my life. Failure took various forms, but usually I woke up in a panic before I had to endure too much humiliation, abuse, or pain.
TAKING CONTROL
And then things changed. Maybe ten years ago, maybe longer, I forget, I changed the dream. In this dream, I am conscious, and I am making decisions. A lucid dream? Perhaps.
In this new version dream, I am empowered, not a victim. The first time I had the dream I could choose the outcome. I asked to see the script. In the very few minutes I had before being expected on stage, I learned my first few lines.
Then I went out on stage, and after I had used my learned lines, I began to improvise. The other actors caught on and fed me modified lines that helped set me up. I continued to improvise and the show ended successfully.
What had been a long time dream of failure became a dream of success.
I have had variations of this dream for years now. Sometimes I do not have lucid control, but the dreams remain successful.
NEW VERSION - IT WENT WELL - LET'S PRAISE EVERYONE
And now, as of last night, I had a new version of the dream.
This time I have studied, and I do know my lines.
I knew my lines well enough to get through opening night, but I had anxiety that if I did not keep studying the script, I might lose some of them and fail because I was not able to attend enough rehearsals before the opening.
However, after the show, the cast and crew are passing around a microphone, praising each other and the people involved. I take a turn and deliver an impassioned speech about the unity of working together, the great bonds that have formed, and my love for everyone involved.
Now, the success is communal, about community.
It was one of the happiest dreams I have had in some time.
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2002.29 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1701 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I plan to continue Hey Mom posts at least twice per week but will continue to post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
Hey, Mom! Talking to My Mother #1194 (SoD #1837) - 1700 days and a dream reprint
1700 days have passed since you died, Mom.
And now that I have abandoned daily HEY MOM posts and have not even kept up a weekly schedule, this is my first HEY MOM in 40 days since my birthday, January 19th, 2020.
1700 days later, and grief is just a fact of life. It's not a crushingly painful thing. There's acceptance of your death, Mom. I feel you a bit less in the corners of my life, though I still feel you here. I know your gone because I have been living with this state of things for almost five years. It still seems wrong when I think about it. I still wonder what it would be like if you were still with us or if you had avoided the meningitis 20 years ago and had been able to lead a relatively normal life. I still miss you, and this too is simply a fact of life.
In recognition of the number, here's a reprint that matters to me.
Hi Mom, Two dreams in two nights prompts me to post this entry, which also includes dreams as yet unposted from last year.
Not much else that I am going to take the time to report for Throwback Thursday other than I started two short stories yesterday, based on the first dream.
Also, this morning, sharing with Liesel that the Indigo Girls are coming to Portland this summer got me crying because of "Wood Song," so may tale regarding that is re-posted at the end.
I love you, Mom.
A surge of intensity in missing you today especially.
1802.28
For the first time, I dreamed that you died and Dad told me on the phone that you had died, Mom. It was a weird thing. I don't remember all the details, but something had you in its power, like magic, and was making you spin slowly, counter-clockwise. I knew this and could see this even though I was not there in the room with you. It was like I was watching it on a video feed on a monitor. Then Dad called and told me there was no time for me to get there. "Your mother died. I am sorry you're not here."
I am not sure why my brain is trying to process your death now, process again, or more, so long after you died. Maybe my contemplation of ending the Hey Mom blog series at entry 1000 is stirring up feelings, misgivings, confrontations with unresolved grief. I don't know.
1803.01
Second night in a row that you were in my dreams, Mom. It part I may have dreamed about you because I started writing a short story about last night's dream (see above). In this dream, you are alive. There was one scene in which we were eating with some work colleagues of yours who had ordered you some burrito bowl type thing to your special specifications. I was visiting you, and you had been working with a large group of people I didn't know on some project or business. It was clear that they liked you in the way they teased you. Later in the dream, you were showing me your truck of many shoes, some kind of business that you were running. You spoke of having finished an MBA degree after I left Michigan, and you had some thriving mobile business that sold shoes, rented shoes, repaired or retrofitted shoes, I am not sure. You were happy, youthful, and full of vigor. You were also not wheelchair-bound, able to talk, and not ill. I am sure that some part of this dream will find it's way into my story.
1707.25
The most memorable element of this dream is that you were fitted with glasses, Mom, that made one eye look huge, and so you almost looked like a cyclops because the eye was so magnified. I had this fear that if you continued to live, you would go blind, which would be horrible for you as one of your main activities and pleasures in your last years of life was watching TV and movies. But then, in the dream, I knew you were already dead, and so I knew we avoided that horrible outcome.
Then, in this other part of the dream, you and this other woman helping you, maybe a therapist, took my toaster. I needed my toaster as I wanted some toast, so I was trying to get it back from you when I discovered that all the screens of the screened in porch (suddenly we're at the Hazelwood house) had been torn away by someone who also hammered at low windows to the basement in the porch floor (which were not part of the Hazelwood porch, but hey. it's a dream). I was really pissed because we have the house for sale and now there's another thing to fix.
1705.30
I had that dream again in which I am sort of on the team of the Detroit Pistons and sort of not. Some of the players were trying to teach me how to shoot with a tennis ball. Apparently, if I can sink baskets with a tennis ball, then I can do it with a basketball if I adjust for weight in hand and in flight. I was hitting lots of baskets with the tennis ball. Coach, Larry Brown, told me he was going to put me in and my job would be to hit three point shots. It was half time, and I would be going in some time in the second half. For some odd reason, Rasheed Wallace was on the other team, even though he had been teaching me to shoot with the tennis ball, but now, he would guard me. I had an image in my mind of you, Mom, with Dad at home ready to watch me, but my call would not go through. And then the coach called me to the floor, and the dream ended.
INDIGO GIRLS CONCERT MOMENT FROM HEY MOM #263
March 26, 2016
HIGHLIGHT: So here's my highlight of the show. I told my friend Chris that there are certain songs that might make me cry if they were to play them, one such song is "The Wood Song" from the 1994 album Swamp Ophelia. I had already written about this song in my seven songs in seven days feature (requested by Glenn Codere): Hey Mom #114 - Seven Songs - "Wood Song."
So, the Indigo Girls played "The Wood Song" and because the crowd was well behaved and mostly older, once the applause died off after the song there's a silent lull, into which I said, in a loud voice, "that song has meant so much to me." Since I was only about twenty feet away in the second row, they heard me and thanked me and tried to get a look at me through the lights.
I am so happy that I was able to share that comment with Amy Ray and Emily Saliers, but especially Emily Saliers who wrote the song.
I was so thrilled to be able to share my comment and be heard by these two artists who I respect so much. Given how much I love music, this comment is the one thing I wish to say to my favorite artists. When we love music, we let the music into our lives, and it becomes part of our lives. The music becomes a companion. It's a shoulder to cry on in tough times. It's a pep talk, a reminder to have courage and fortitude. It's a reminder that we are loved, that there is love, that there are good times and bad times. The music becomes a good friend.
As I wrote back in Hey Mom #114 - Seven Songs - "Wood Song", this song originally meant certain things to me, which evolved as years passed and as other events in my life caused me to turn to this song for support. It really helped me during the weeks as my mother lay dying and then for the weeks just after her death. Now, every time I listen to it, I am re-invigorated with courage and strength.
"love weighs the hull down with its weight..."
and "what it takes to cross the great divide seems more than all the courage i can muster up inside but we get to have some answers when we reach the other side the prize is always worth the rocky ride..."
This is how close we sat!
second row - Orchestra Pit
I won't share the same video that I shared in Hey Mom #114...
"The Wood Song" - The Indigo Girls
ORIGINAL
- Days ago = 971 days ago
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 1803.01 - 10:10
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Reflect and connect.
Have someone give you a kiss, and tell you that I love you, Mom.
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2002.28 - 10:10
NEW (written 1708.27 and 1907.04) NOTE on time: I am now in the same time zone as Google! So, when I post at 10:10 a.m. PDT to coincide with the time of your death, Mom, I am now actually posting late, so it's really 1:10 p.m. EDT. But I will continue to use the time stamp of 10:10 a.m. to remember the time of your death, Mom. I know this only matters to me, and to you, Mom. Dropped "Talk to you tomorrow, Mom" in the sign off on 1907.04. Should have done it sooner as this feature is no longer daily.
and the distance he’s kept from his different selves
is all undone — Jacob Polley, Les Symbolistes
Robert Twigger, the author of Micromastery, kindly invited me to answer some questions about polymathy. Robert’s own writing on the topic has been a personal source of inspiration for many years, exemplified by his Aeon essay. Our exchange was published on the Idries Shah Foundation blog. I am grateful to Robert and the ISF for permission to reproduce it here.
Robert Twigger: Why is polymathy shunned in many public educational areas? Why do writers on polymathy prefer to avoid the term?
Richard Martin: I wonder if one of the issues is about the definition of the term. In the OED, a polymath is defined as ‘a person of wide knowledge and learning’. Some will find the apparent emphasis on study, intelligence and intellect off-putting. Others seek practical application. A frequent challenge is framed as follows: It is all very well acquiring all this knowledge and learning, but where is the evidence of its being put into practice.
When Kenneth Mikkelsen and I were researching our book The Neo-Generalist, only one interviewee expressly stated a desire to become a polymath. It was an aspiration, the objective of a learning journey they had embarked upon. Several others, however, indicated an unwillingness to associate themselves with the term. Partly, this was motivated by humility despite their obvious mastery of serial disciplines. Partly, it was the result of fear – fear of being misunderstood, miscategorised. It was something we found with much of the terminology associated with polymathy and generalism. Over time, these terms have been transformed into ones of dismissal and abuse.
What had initially started out as a study of what might loosely be termed ‘polymathic generalism’ ended up being something more sweeping and inclusive. Our term neo-generalist is intended to span the whole spectrum from polymathy to hyperspecialism. Our insight was that few individuals remain static on that continuum, which we visualised as an infinite loop. Everyone can specialise or generalise. What they do at a given point in time is largely governed by context. But it is the curious, responsive and connective who are the most comfortable with these constant shifts.
The polymathic generalists we were initially drawn to had much in common with the micromasters you explore in your own book. What was remarkable about them was how they had varying levels of depth in multiple disciplines as well as huge breadth across diverse industries, hobbies and interests. There was both macromastery as well as micromastery. Most are combinatorial in their approach, picking and mixing, hybridising knowledge, experience and practice across multiple domains.
It is this magpie approach, which defies easy categorisation or labelling, that presents problems to our academic institutions and places of work. Their models have been fine-tuned for the deep specialists, and have their foundations in the approaches to work and education that were encouraged in the wake of the Industrial Revolution. A polymath does not fit in our line-and-box conception of corporate organisational structures. They are bored by the hermetically sealed approach to classroom study, in which a subject is isolated from all others. Music and mathematics are separated, geography and history, physics and philosophy.
Robert: Are some cultures more polymathic than others? Which can we learn from?
Richard: I’m not convinced it is a case of cultural differentiation so much as temporal. When people talk of polymaths, they often start with figures from the pre-industrial era: the ancients of China, the Middle East, North Africa and Southern Europe; the shining lights of the Renaissance and the Enlightenment. But there is a radical shift after that. After the Industrial Revolution, there seems to be greater compartmentalisation, separation of functions and emphasis on specialisation. The polymath becomes the exception rather than the norm of an educated or inquisitive person.
I come back to the consideration of context and need. Over the past year, I have been working as ghostwriter on a book about Nordic leadership. One aspect it explores is the legacy of the Vikings on the Nordic region. The Vikings were essentially a network of small communities in which people had to be multidisciplinarian. Without it, you simply would not survive the harsh winters. So any given individual on a long ship, for example, might be a combination of warrior, sailor, craftsman and/or farmer. These multiple talents were put in service of the community, the multidisciplinarity evidenced individually and collectively.
Robert: In your book The Neo-Generalist – a fascinating read – is there one point you’d like to summarise as being of most urgent importance for people today?
Richard: Relevance. Without multidisciplinarity, fuelled by curiosity, and enabled by a willingness to adapt to ever-shifting contexts, it is unlikely that you can retain it.
Many specialist tasks no longer require humans to perform them. So, it is important that we exercise our creativity and ingenuity, our capacity to mix up different interests and skills, in order to address the problems and leverage the opportunities that AI and robotics cannot. But such an outlook really requires dismantling our current approach to education and how we think about recruitment, employment, career progression and organisational structure.
Robert: We live in a culture in which the physical is increasingly absent from our work. Should we think about integrating that into intellectual endeavours? How?
Richard: The physical is absent from a lot of office work, or jobs that require a lot of screen or wheel time. But I think it is still evident in the way many work whether that is in service roles, retail, healthcare, education, agriculture or manufacturing.
When I was a commuter, I spent a lot of time sitting: on a train, on a bus, in the office, stuck in meetings. Now that I’m a freelance writer and an editor, I still experience much time at my desk. But I seek out and require personal locomotion to help me think and create too, whether that is walking on the beach or in the woods, venturing out into the Kentish countryside on my bike or doing a few household chores.
Activity frees my mind. The mechanics of motion actually shakes loose and helps organise my ideas. I often say that I do my best writing on my bike, drafting and re-drafting in my head while I ride. The observation of action by other people I also find essential. I have gained more insight about people, roles and organisation by watching professional cycling and rugby, for example, than from any business conference or book. You see abstraction put into practice, made visible and tangible.
Robert: What sort of connections do you make between polymathy and storytelling?
Richard: Scheherazade in One Thousand and One Nights is the narrator as polymath, demonstrating an immense breadth and depth of knowledge. In addition to sport, I filter my understanding and appreciation of the world around me through the arts, in particular fiction and film. I’ve learned more about the great scientific advances of the 20th century, for example, from novelists and poets than from any formal study of physics or chemistry.
The art that emerged in the early decades of the last century was as much a vehicle for new ideas about time, anthropology, the mind and quantum physics as it was experimental in form and subject matter. In fact, T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land gave Kenneth and I a concept – shoring fragments – that served as a major theme and an organising principle for our book.
In chapter 9 of The Neo-Generalist, we make the case for the polymathic generalist as someone who is both adept at sense-making and storytelling. We use the metaphor of the detective for this, as well as the investigative journalist. People who draw on wide sources of information, mash it up, analyse and internalise, then present it back out to others, influencing them and their actions. The detective and journalist have this ability to cross borders, moving between worlds. Their stories have a catalytic effect, bridging across the divides. They bring together the polymath’s multiple domains of mastery.
Distortion is one way of making sense of things, she said,
which seemed too easy, but I wasn’t even born yet,
I hadn’t learned the art of asking questions — Emily Berry, Ghost Dance
I ask the universe: What? and Why?
Now wakened, I must remake the world,
One grain at a time. — Alan Lightman, Song of Two Worlds
That’s the thing about me. I’ve got a very fluid sense of self. — Ali Smith, The Seer
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2002.27 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1699 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I plan to continue Hey Mom posts at least twice per week but will continue to post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
Just this week, Blizzard punished a Hong Kong-based professional gamer for speaking out in support of Hong Kong protesters who are standing up for democracy and human rights.1
To be 100% clear, this isn’t about video games. And this isn’t about Hong Kong. This is about basic human rights. It’s bad enough that authoritarian governments have the power to censor public discourse in their own countries, but now they’re bullying American companies into undermining freedom of expression around the world. We can’t let that continue to happen.
People everywhere are outraged, and rightfully so; nobody should be punished for advocating for their own personal freedom. But now we need to channel our outrage into a massive protest that will force Blizzard to back down. Here’s how to help:
Visit GamersForFreedom and sign our petition telling video game companies how important freedom is to you.
Join our protest at Blizzard’s upcoming BlizzCon convention in Anaheim, California.
If you can think of other ways to participate, please feel free to let us know. Or keep up with all the latest news in our Gamers for Freedom Discord channel.
An anonymous reader shares a report:Those outside the People's Republic of China (PRC) are accustomed to thinking of the Internet censorship practices of the Chinese state as primarily domestic, enacted through the so-called "Great Firewall" -- a system of surveillance and blocking technology that prevents Chinese citizens from viewing websites outside the country. The Chinese government's justification for that firewall is based on the concept of "Internet sovereignty." The PRC has long declared that "within Chinese territory, the internet is under the jurisdiction of Chinese sovereignty." Hong Kong, as part of the "one country, two systems" agreement, has largely lived outside that firewall: foreign services like Twitter, Google, and Facebook are available there, and local ISPs have made clear that they will oppose direct state censorship of its open Internet.
But the ongoing Hong Kong protests, and mainland China's pervasive attempts to disrupt and discredit the movement globally, have highlighted that China is not above trying to extend its reach beyond the Great Firewall, and beyond its own borders. In attempting to silence protests that lie outside the Firewall, in full view of the rest of the world, China is showing its hand, and revealing the tools it can use to silence dissent or criticism worldwide. Some of those tools -- such as pressure on private entities, including American corporations NBA and Blizzard -- have caught U.S. headlines and outraged customers and employees of those companies. Others have been more technical, and less obvious to the Western observers.
Activision Blizzard suspended Hearthstone pro Chung "Blitzchung" Ng Wai on Tuesday after he spoke up in support of protests in Hong Kong during a post-match interview during Hearsthone's Asia-Pacific Grandmaster tournament on October 6. From a report:Two days later, on October 8, Activision Blizzard suspended him from competing in Hearthstone esports tournaments for a year, rescinded his $3000 winnings from the tournament, and fired the two people who interviewed him. Each year, Hearhstone's best players compete in regional tournaments that narrow the field to 48 Grandmasters. After the regionals, the Grandmasters play for a $500,000 prize pool. After winning a match in the Asia-Pacific regional, Chung streamed a post-victory interview while wearing ski goggles and a gas mask, a look often worn by protestors in Hong Kong to mitigate the effects of tear gas. "Liberate Hong Kong, revolution of our time," Chung said on the stream, a phrase that's become a rallying cry for protestors in Hong Kong.
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2002.26 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1698 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I plan to continue Hey Mom posts at least twice per week but will continue to post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
A Sense of Doubt blog post #1834 - Symbols, threshold, and rebirth - JUNG
Just a share today...
An archetypal experience of being human is the need and
possibility at certain times throughout our lives to be reborn. To reinvent
ourselves, to make a fresh start, to reimagine our role and place in the world,
to embrace new values and discard what no longer serves us. This need and
possibility of creatively crafting our identity and journey is an integral part
of what in Jungian terms we refer to as individuation. The process of becoming
an ever more honest and refined version of yourself.
I have been reflecting on this of late. How fortunate we
are to be given these frequent and regular opportunities for renewal. I have
always celebrated the threshold offered by a new year and put great stock in
this. I count among my blessings that I have maintained a certain naiveite and
resisted cynicism in this regard. The new year has never failed to renew my
spirit and commitment to be a better version of my previous self. More recently
though what has dawned on me is the gift offered of every new day. Just how
profound the blessing is of being reborn every day. This gift of rebirth and
renewal that we receive daily is a good example of what is meant by the term,
archetypal.
A cinematic metaphor that portrays this idea so well is
the eternally repetition in Groundhog Day, the 1993 comedy drama, starring Bill
Murray in the lead, as a weatherman who gets caught in a time loop. He must
repeat the same day, seemingly endlessly, until some epiphany is achieved that
allows him to move on along his linear timeline. In philosophy and theology,
the idea of the eternal return of time or eternal recurrence of time and
events, is found in many diverse traditions. Possibly one of most well know
expressions of this idea comes from Nietzsche,
“Whoever thou mayest be, beloved stranger, whom I meet
here for the first time, avail thyself of this happy hour and of the stillness
around us, and above us, and let me tell thee something of the thought which
has suddenly risen before me like a star which would fain shed down its rays
upon thee and every one, as befits the nature of light. – Fellow man! Your
whole life, like a sandglass, will always be reversed and will ever run out
again, – a long minute of time will elapse until all those conditions out of
which you were evolved return in the wheel of the cosmic process. And then you
will find every pain and every pleasure, every friend and every enemy, every
hope and every error, every blade of grass and every ray of sunshine once more,
and the whole fabric of things which make up your life. This ring in which you
are but a grain will glitter afresh forever. And in every one of these cycles
of human life there will be one hour where, for the first time one man, and
then many, will perceive the mighty thought of the eternal recurrence of all
things:– and for mankind this is always the hour of Noon". (Notes
on the Eternal Recurrence – Vol. 16 of Oscar Levy Edition of Nietzsche's
Complete Works)
In other words, there is a way of thinking about everyday
as the same day repeated endlessly – or until there are no more days, for you
at least. You have a thousand opportunities to truly make the day, so that one
reaches that perfect day, where as Master Lü Dongbin says in the Secret of the
Golden Flower…
"the golden light crystallises
and silently in the morning thou fliest upwards."
Creative inspiration and available libido (psychological
energy) are both necessary for this process of renewal. In fact, this capacity
for change and renewal is one of the hallmarks of a healthy psychology. By
contrast, one of the easiest ways to identify a neurosis is by the individual’s
inability to change, renew, reimagine or in psychoanalytic terms, to
re-symbolise, a way of being in the world that is no longer functioning
optimally.
It is not only normal, but necessary to encounter
adversity. It is part of the human condition and that which facilitates growth
and increased capacity. Naturally we would not grow if we were never challenged
to do so. Growth beyond a certain way of being, always involves overcoming a
certain stuck-ness and previous level of adaptation, skill set, resilience,
habits, thoughts and so on.
A neurosis as Freud pointed out is a form of “repetition
compulsion”. Enacting a behaviour or set of behaviours repeatedly, in response
to a consistent stimulus (challenge) that is dysfunctional. In other words, I
keep doing the same thing but hoping for a different result. The subject in
this instance is continually coming up against the same or a very similar
threshold but is unable to successfully cross it. They are unable to
successfully renew themselves and repeatedly serve up an existing version of
their identity and adaptive self, despite it producing a less than ideal
result. To return to our metaphor of Groundhog Day, this is the experience of
being endlessly on repeat, and simply unable to enact something new. Forced toe
endlessly repeat the mistakes of the past.
The reasons for neurosis are complex and go beyond the
focus of this letter. I want to point out only two consistent characteristics
of what this failure looks like: a manifest lack of creativity and an inability
to assimilate a past event.
One way to break this deadlock is provided by
psychoanalysis broadly speaking, and in the focused context here, by Jungian
psychoanalysis, more specifically. This is through the engagement with symbols
and symbolisation. Symbols are the gateways to rebirth. Symbols allows us to
move beyond a state that has become sterile and no longer serves us. The
engagement with a living symbol allows for continual renewal, increasing
insight (consciousness), refinement, meaning and individuation.
Jung had a particular affinity for the power and meaning
of symbols and their capacity to facilitate a dialogue with the unconscious.
“Psychic development cannot be
accomplished by intention and will alone; it needs the attraction of the
symbol; whose value quantum exceeds that of the cause.” ( C. G. Jung,
Collected Works, vol. 8, par. 47)
The symbol is that which has the capacity to take the
subject beyond the inevitable sterility of consciousness. I don’t, in other
words, merely reinvent the day through force of will alone, but by the
collaboration with the psyche as a whole, i.e. the unity of conscious and
unconscious, that is only realisable through consciously engaging with symbols.
If this is something that interests you and which you
would like to know more about, join us on a 5-week intensive study of the
practical application of symbols and symbolisation.
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2002.25 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1697 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I plan to continue Hey Mom posts at least twice per week but will continue to post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
A Sense of Doubt blog post #1833 - Three for Monday - "Catharsis" and more new stuff - Musical Monday 2002.24
I am sending this back in time. The week of being swallowed by the conference whale is over and now I am tasked with catching up on other work and the blog simultaneously.
I asked one of my students on Thursday 2/27 (three days from the date of this blog) for some musical recommendations.
I have three interesting suggestions here that then end in a cut by Ramshackle Glory who perform in a style known as "folk punk."
Not much commentary today as I am catching up. I am not in love with these songs, but I do think they all have their merits and are interesting.
Here you go.
Catharsis
‧
Song by Motionless in White
Catharsis in darkness
When you can't seem to feel a thing
The absence that haunts you
Won't hurt much longer
Catharsis in darkness
When you can't seem to feel a thing
The absence that haunts you
Won't hurt much longer
This feeling's getting a bit harder to control
A place to feel completed or a place to be alone
The rhythm of rebellion from the rattle in your bones
A sonic liberation, salvation in your headphones
Darkest disguise
Leave it at the door
Bright lights divine
Leave your body on the floor
Catharsis in darkness
When you can't seem to feel a thing
The absence that haunts you
Won't hurt much longer
Stand in the shadows entertaining the unknown
The words I always needed like I wrote them on my own
"I sing for absolution", for the cleansing of my soul
Narcotic is the beating of our hearts to the tempo
Holding through time
Leave it at the door
Bright lights divine
Leave your body on the floor
Catharsis in darkness
When you can't seem to feel a thing
The absence that haunts you
Won't hurt much longer
Catharsis in darkness
When you can't seem to feel a thing
The absence that haunts you
Won't hurt much longer
Catharsis in darkness
A place to feel the words we sing
The absence that haunts you
Won't hurt much longer
Source: LyricFind
Songwriters: Chris Cerulli / Ricky Olson / Ryan Sitkowski / Justin Morrow / Vinny Mauro
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2002.24 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1696 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I plan to continue Hey Mom posts at least twice per week but will continue to post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
I have been meaning to post something from my Crimethinc book -- Days of War, Nights of Love -- for some time. I have my dear friend Ryan Walters to thank for introducing me to Crimethinc, which hits some of the same sweet notes as the Church of the Subgenius, but without the satire, not so laconic nonsense, and hedonism. I love the Subgenius, but that's a story for another time. Here's what I hope will be the first of many crimethinc posts, so I created a category. I also added the general "about" content for crimethinc to educate the masses as to what crimethinc is. The local postal address sends mail to Salem, Oregon, which is quite nearby.
About CrimethInc.
What Is Crimethink?
Crimethink is everything that evades control: the daydream in the classroom, the renegade breaking ranks, the spray-painted walls that continue to speak even under martial law. It is the persistent sense that things could be otherwise, that there is nothing natural or inevitable about the prevailing social order. In a world optimized for administration, everything that cannot be classified or displayed on a screen is crimethink. It is the spirit of rebellion without which freedom is literally unthinkable.
What Is CrimethInc.?
CrimethInc. is a rebel alliance — a secret society pledged to the propagation of crimethink. It is a think tank producing inflammatory ideas and action, a sphinx posing questions fatal to the superstitions of our age.
CrimethInc. is a banner for anonymous collective action. It is not a membership organization, but a mouthpiece for longings that extend throughout the population at large. Anyone can be CrimethInc. — it could be your next-door neighbor or the person sitting beside you on the bus. You and your friends already constitute an affinity group, the organizational model best suited to guerrilla tactics, ready to go into action against all the forces that threaten your freedom.
CrimethInc. is an international network of aspiring revolutionaries extending from Kansas to Kuala Lumpur. For over twenty years, we have published news, analysis, books, journals, posters, videos, podcasts, and a wide range of other resources — all copyright free, produced and distributed by volunteer labor, without reliance on external funding or market trends. We also coordinate speaking tours, debates, and various other public events. Though we rarely seek public recognition for our efforts, everything we do is informed by our participation in social movements.
CrimethInc. is a desperate venture. As this society lurches ever closer to annihilation, we are staking everything on the possibility that we could kick open the escape hatch to another future. Rather than competing for social capital or selling ourselves to the highest bidder, we have thrown ourselves completely into the struggle for a better world. We invite you to do the same.
When I would look through magazines as a small child, I used to think that there must be a magical world somewhere where everything looked—and was—perfect. I could see pictures from it in those pages, the smoky air of dimly-lit rooms heavy with drama as the young models lounged in designer fashions. That is where excitement and adventure is to be found, I thought, in the world where every room is flawlessly decorated and every woman’s wardrobe is picked and matched with daring and finesse. I resolved to have an adventurous life of my own, and began looking for those rooms and women right away. And though I’ve discovered since then that romance and excitement rarely come hand in hand with the images of them that are presented to us—usually the opposite is true, that adventure is to be found precisely where there is no time or energy for keeping up appearances—I still catch myself sometimes thinking that everything would be perfect if only I lived in that picturesque log cabin with matching rugs.
Whatever each us may be looking for, we all tend to pursue our desires by pursuing images: symbols of the things we desire. We buy leather jackets when we want rebellion and danger. We purchase fast cars not for the sake of driving fast, but to recapture our lost youth. When we want world revolution, we buy political pamphlets and bumper stickers. Somehow we assume that having all the right accessories will get us the perfect lives. And when we construct our lives, we often do it according to an image, a pattern that has been laid out for us: hippie, businessman, housewife, punk.
Why do we think so much about images today, rather than concentrating on reality, on our lives and emotions themselves? One of the reasons images have attained so much significance in this society is that, unlike activities, images are easy to sell. Advertising and marketing, which are designed to invest products with a symbolic value that will attract consumers, have transformed our culture. Corporations have been spreading propaganda designed to make us believe in the magic powers of their commodities for generations now: deodorant offers popularity, soda offers youth and energy, jeans offer sex appeal. At our jobs, we exchange our time, energy, and creativity for the ability to buy these symbols—and we keep buying them, for of course no quantity of cigarettes can really give anyone sophistication. Rather than satisfying our needs, these products multiply them: for in order to get them, we end up selling parts of our lives away. We keep going back, not knowing any other way, hoping that the new product (self-help books, punk rock records, that vacation cabin with matching rugs) will be the one that will fix everything.
We are easily persuaded to chase these images because it is simply easier to change the scenery around you than it is to change your own life. How much less trouble, how much less risky it would be if you could make your life perfect just by collecting all the right accessories! No participation necessary. The image comes to embody all the things you desire, and you spend all your time and energy trying to get the details right (the bohemian tries to find the perfect black beret and the right poetry readings to attend—the frat boy has to be seen with the right friends, at the right parties, drinking the right beers and wearing the right informal dress shirts) rather than pursuing the desires themselves—for of course it’s easier to identify yourself with a prefabricated image than to identify exactly what you want in life. But if you really want adventure, an Australian hunting jacket won’t suffice, and if you want real romance, dinner and a movie with the most popular girl at your school might not be enough.
Fascinated as we are by images, our values have come to revolve around a world we can never actually experience. There’s no way into the pages of the magazine, there’s no way to be the archetypal punk or the perfect executive. We’re “trapped” out here in the real world, forever. And yet we keep looking for life in pictures, in fashions, in spectacles of all kinds, anything that we can collect or watch—instead of doing.
WE LOOK FOR LIFE IN THE IMAGE OF LIFE
Watching from the Sidelines
The curious thing about a spectacle is how it immobilizes the spectators: just like the image, it centers their attention, their values, and ultimately their lives around something outside of themselves. It keeps them occupied without making them active, it keeps them feeling involved without giving them control. You can probably think of a thousand different examples of this: television programs, action movies, magazines that give updates on the lives of celebrities and superstars, spectator sports, representative “democracy,” the Catholic church.
A spectacle also isolates the people whose attention it commands. Many of us know more about the fictitious characters of popular sitcoms than we know about the lives and loves of our neighbors—for even when we talk to them, it is about television shows, the news, and the weather; thus the very experiences and information that we share in common as spectators of the mass-media serve to separate us from one another. It is the same at a big football game: everybody watching from the bleachers is a nobody, regardless of who they are. They may be sitting next to each other, but all eyes are focused on the field. If they speak to each other, it is almost never about each other, but about the game that is being played before them. And although football fans cannot participate in the events of the game they are watching, or exert any real influence over them, they attach the utmost importance to these events and associate their own needs and desires with their outcome in a most unusual way. Rather than concentrating their attention on things that have a real bearing on their desires, they reconstruct their desires to revolve around the things they pay attention to. Their language even conflates the achievements of the team they identify themselves with with their own actions: “we scored a goal!” “we won!” shout the fans from their seats and sofas.
This stands in stark contrast to the way people speak about the things that go on in our own cities and communities. “They’re building a new highway,” we say about the new changes in our neighborhood. “What will they think of next?” we say about the latest advances in scientific technology. Our language reveals that we think of ourselves as spectators in our own societies. But it’s not “They,” the mysterious Other People, who have made the world the way it is—it is we, humanity ourselves. No small team of scientists, city planners, and rich bureaucrats could have done all the working and inventing and organizing that it has taken for us to transform this planet; it has taken and still takes all of us, working together, to do this. We are the ones doing it, every day. And yet most of us seem to feel that we can have more control over football games than we can over our cities, our jobs, even our own lives.
We might have more success in our pursuit of happiness if we start trying to really participate. Rather than trying to fit images, we can seek exciting and rewarding experiences; for happiness does not come from what you have or how your appear, but from what you do and how you feel. And instead of accepting the role of passive spectator to sports, society, and life, it is up to each of us to figure out how to play an active and significant part in creating the worlds around us and within us. Perhaps one day we can build a new society in which we can all be involved together in the decisions that affect the lives we lead; then we will be able to truly choose our own destinies, instead of feeling helpless and left out.
What’s the point of doing anything if nobody’s watching?
We all want to be famous, to be seen, frozen, preserved in the media, because we’ve come to trust what is seen more than what is actually lived. Somehow we’ve gotten everything backwards and images seem more real to us than experiences. To know that we really exist, that we really matter, we have to see ghosts of ourselves preserved in photographs, on television shows and videotapes, in the public eye.
And when you go on vacation, what do you see? Scores of tourists with video cameras screwed to their faces, as if they’re trying to suck all of the real world into the two-dimensional world of images, spending their “time off” seeing the world through a tiny glass lens. Sure, turning everything that you could experience with all five senses into recorded information that you can only observe from a distance, detached, offers us the illusion of having control over our lives: we can rewind and replay them, over and over, until everything looks ridiculous. But what kind of life is that?
“What’s the point of watching anything if nobody’s doing?”
- Bloggery committed by chris tower - 2002.23 - 10:10
- Days ago = 1695 days ago
- New note - On 1807.06, I ceased daily transmission of my Hey Mom feature after three years of daily conversations. I plan to continue Hey Mom posts at least twice per week but will continue to post the days since ("Days Ago") count on my blog each day. The blog entry numbering in the title has changed to reflect total Sense of Doubt posts since I began the blog on 0705.04, which include Hey Mom posts, Daily Bowie posts, and Sense of Doubt posts. Hey Mom posts will still be numbered sequentially. New Hey Mom posts will use the same format as all the other Hey Mom posts; all other posts will feature this format seen here.
