"The love you take is equal to the love you make." Lennon/McCartney These thoughts touch upon my belief about beliefs; the nature of belief, and aim at peering into what, rather than how, or why, we have and hold them, near and dear to our hearts, as endings are sometimes necessary ideas along the way. Along with …
Category: Archetypal Psychology
The Next Chapter
To practice the living of one's life as "storied," it may first be necessary to experience the idea as a meaningful one. The beauty of stories, their telling and living is an art coming from more than the deciphering of meanings, moral lessons, endings, or truth - as influential as those things may be. As …
Soul-making
Souls can be, among other things, lost, saved, non-existent, or hearty, but do we make soul? If so, what does that mean? What then, is soul? Perhaps as it should be, I have puzzled for years at James Hillman's use of the term "soul-making." Now days, ideas about soul are sometimes dismissed as archaic. So if we are to understand a …
Dionysus Son of Zeus
I often sense that a culture in the throes of death wants only to save itself. We live in those times, I think, where there is much emphasis on saving ourselves. We are so enamored with heroics. But do they not keep us from where we are right now? What about the nature of disintegration? …
somewhere down river
Baseball? Yes. I’m not sure how I discovered Steve’s blog, but yes, I do like baseball, even if I don’t have the time to obsess over it the way I used to. Steve is an excellent writer and his blog features a lot of interesting topics related to baseball and nostalgia. When I read his posts, I feel like I am transported, not only back in time, but with the eye and heart of a seasoned life-long ticket buyer to all things American.
I don’t remember when a Greyhound Bus became a philosophy in itself, but it did and soon after, spawned into anthropology, oral history, fashion, a crossroads of American economics, drug smuggling, people smuggling, flashes of evergreens, neon blue toilet swirls, a dream, a mythology swooping passengers beyond time into some sort of shared consciousness.
Or maybe it’s just a filthy, bumpy bus ride from point A to point B and I needed to see it differently. I rode the Greyhound all over the United States and never once meditated to the sound of the motor. I enjoyed the circus instead and when trips ended,I felt an amputation so strong that I packed a peanut butter lunch and enjoyed a brown bag scene at the bus station wherever I happened to be.
I boarded a greyhound and wondered how my life might be altered by whoever sits next to me. It…
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Theoria 