Thursday, September 4, 2014
He would not allow himself to be tormented
i haven't been analyzing myself much lately. words have a way of depressing me. language depends on dualism: light vs dark, high vs low. and in order to write well, i have to have to let the dark be as black as it can be, thus increasing the strength of the the light. submitting to chaos requires a stable mind, oddly enough.
after my brush with a chemically induced psychosis, a mood enhancer on top of prozac, feeling i would fall over at any moment, that pulling off my pants might take the skin with it, i've been steering myself away from black thoughts. alas, i need them so i can laugh. i have to see the absurdity of the world in order to withstand the onslaught of the news.
this reminds of me of edvard munch, the norwegian painter, who broke down, hospitalized about 1909. after his recovery he insisted on bright, positive images. his style changed, his lines much stronger, as if he were trying to hold everything firmly together. most of the bleak symbolism disappeared and with it, for me, his power.
c.g.jung emphasized over and over, our power lies locked in our shadow side. and he actually refused to treat patients whose psychosis lay just beneath the surface. if they entered the shadow realm, they'd break down. they'd already managed to keep themselves together at high risk. as sappho said, "If you're squeamish, don't prod the beach rubble."
in consequence, i've passionately focused on images. for a site called Pinterest, i've been canvasing thousands of pictures and making collections of my own. actually, this helps keep my objectivity alive, and it's a wild study in people's tastes, often so very different than my own. for instance, pinners often post pictures of objects they love, millions of material objects.
for me, the individual escapes the traumas of the world though 'consumer therapy.' he or she creates an identity as a bulwark, this obvious in these built tables of likes and dislikes. yet, i feel we are 99% fashion, constructing a self from the tastes, beliefs, style, to which we're attracted and allow us to survive in whatever tribe we inhabit, this the true meaning of role models.
alas, much of mine adopted from the darkest french poet with the greatest sense of irony: baudelaire. and recently i read, "Irony is the easiest form of thinking." and, i take it, the cheapest. i've always loved irony. there the shadow and the candle meet. i have to keep up a personal myth: my own little light equals the darkness.
check out my collections on Pinterest: