Excerpt from 'The Four archetypes' by Carl Jung - Nietzsche, The Shadow, The Second Self

I read part of 'The Four Archetypes' by Carl Jung. The books early chapters on the 'mother' archetype are stale bread. What I  reccomend are the chapters on the archetype of 'rebirth'. Far more exciting. Profound insights sprint out like bolting race horses. Especially for those on a journey of self discovery and personal growth. The excerpt I chose is found on page 64. It cites the German philosopher Nietzsche. A controversial thinker who championed the pursuit of power and the acceptance of one's inner darkness. The theme of the excerpt is 'the shadow' and 'the second self'. Enjoy. :) 

'When a summit of life is reached, when the bud unfolds and from the lesser the greater emerges, then, as Nietzsche says, “One becomes Two,” and the greater figure, which one always was but which remained invisible, appears to the lesser personality with the force of a revelation. He who is truly and hopelessly little will always drag the revelation of the greater down to the level of his littleness, and will never understand that the day of judgment for his littleness has dawned. But the man who is inwardly great will know that the long expected friend of his soul, the immortal one, has now really come, “to lead captivity the psychology of rebirth 63 captive”;8 that is, to seize hold of him by whom this immortal had always been confined and held prisoner, and to make his life flow into that greater life—a moment of deadliest peril! Nietzsche’s prophetic vision of the Tightrope Walker9 reveals the awful danger that lies in having a “tightrope-walking” attitude towards an event to which St. Paul gave the most exalted name he could find.' pg 64

On Why We Read Books

A person reads fiction to decipher one's inner world. The same impulse compels the writer to create. Books are like maps. They chart the terrain of a writers inner world. And, naturally, humans, being rather cunning animals, seek out texts that align as accurately as possible with our own inner world. Do you too find the books you like the most could've been written by a closely associated second self? But, what is of primary interest to us all in books are the uncharted territories of the unconscious. A place where brave writers with lofty souls have painstakingly beaten paths of mud deep into the heart of the collective unconscious. But a reader can never be fully satisfied with the books, maps and paths of another. No matter how close a writers map resembles one's own, it always falls short, remaining distinctly foreign with crucial parts missing. It is the fate of the reader, if they turn writer, to beat their own ruddy path into the blackened forest of the unconscious, and bring back insights for others, who have not yet embarked on such a hair-raising journey. Dostoevsky was a voracious reader who became a brilliant writer. I doubt he was an exception.

The Call To Adventure (poem)

An adventure awaits us.

Bring sword and steel and flame and arrow.

Forget one’s shield; for we make haste. 

And will return by different roads.

Great Weather Lockdowns Silver Lining

Scientists believe lockdowns and great weather are connected. Lockdowns effect: cloud formation, sky colour, clarity, and unsurprisingly; air quality. How exciting to then realize from Auckland to Mumbai extraordinary weather is occurring. Yesterday, I walked up Mt Eden and witnessed panoramic views for miles. Today, I visited Cheltenham beach (on the North shore) and glimpsed pristine views. I even spotted a lighthouse far off in the distance. I had almost forgotten existed. A couple of years back, the Chinese invented a term for ultra-blue skies; the direct result of reducing air pollution. They named them 'APEC blue' skies. In honour of meetings by national representatives who convened to limit air pollution. But, the thing about 'APEC blue' skies is; they're beautiful, but also fleeting. So if you see one in the sky when you look up, enjoy it. Because you never know how long, or if you are ever going to see another one, again.

~

Expert opinions from relevant news articles:

'The dramatic improvements in air quality associated with the corona-virus lockdown could increase sunlight and affect weather patterns, scientists say.' (1)

'Looking straight up, the sky here was a remarkable shade of dark blue, almost Pantone ultraviolet. In my best meteorological opinion, this breathtaking colour was due to a combination of a high pressure system overhead on a sunny spring day mixed with the effects of this pandemic: fewer clouds due to a 90% reduction of airplanes in the sky and a sharp drop in air pollution from the shuttering of factories and freeways. As I researched a little further, my suspicion was confirmed: bluer skies aren’t just happening here in Minnesota, they’re happening all around the world.' (2)

'Dr Shashi Tharoor, a politician and author who has been vocal on environmental issues, said he hoped that it was a wake-up call. “The blissful sight of blue skies and the joy of breathing clean air provides just the contrast to illustrate what we are doing to ourselves the rest of the time,” said Tharoor. “Today the typical Delhi AQI hovers around 30 and one blissful afternoon, after a spurt of rain, it dropped to 7.” (3)

Sources:

~

References:

1) https://www.google.com/amp/s/amp.theguardian.com/world/2020/may/13/drop-in-pollution-may-bring-hotter-weather-and-heavier-monsoons

2)

https://thecorrespondent.com/398/remember-you-are-alive-and-a-better-world-is-possible/52689882322-fd7d1e42

3)

https://www.theguardian.com/environment/2020/apr/11/positively-alpine-disbelief-air-pollution-falls-lockdown-coronavirus

Hips A Mile Wide

Keep kicking ass and taking names, reader.

Saw a hot blonde today. Trailed after her and had a chat. After shooting hoops. You should've seen the hips on her! Kind of cheeky flouting the lock down rules. I guess the sex drives stronger than the death drive.

She wore stylish aviator sunglasses. Her hair tied up in a bun. Petite in height. Wearing all black exercise gear.

Started off casual. Complimented her. Got a vibe. Asked if she was single. She wasn't. Told her that her boyfriend was a lucky guy. I walked away in a relaxed manner. After telling her I'd chased her to have a quick chat. And wishing her a good lock-down.

She seemed low-key flattered.

Prior to chatting I was heading a different way. I had to walk a couple hundred metres to catch up. Nice women. Attractive, with a fun personality.

Something about blondes, reader. Something about them. Wanted to share these tidings with you. 💪😎Moss 🌞

A Monaro Muscle Car Poem

Rumbling beneath the hood

Tires squealing through corners

Canary painted Monaro blur

Strengths of CBT Therapy - Mini Introduction

Labelling, black & white thinking and minimization are all cognitive distortions. Be aware of them in your everyday thinking. Stay positive. Adopt a growth mindset. Practice mindfulness. Reframe negative thoughts into positive ones. Cleaning up your mind. Changes your life. 🙏🌞💪

My thoughts On The Simple, Inexperienced, Plight Of The 'Simp' - In Modern Society

I did some explorative research into simpletons and 'simps' this morning. The concept that men over idolize women.

It's amazing how susceptible  genders can be to idolizing their opposite sex. We've all done it. Infatuation is real. But, I don't like the term 'simp'.

It's too loaded with derogatory connotations toward men. It's not easy navigating human instincts as a man or women, especially in a hyper-sexualized and narcissistic world where empathy can be exploited and undervalued.

The term 'simp' is a label. It also functions on a 'black and white' basis. Both are cognitive distortions that cbt allows one to overcome.
While being labelled foolish or a simpleton is easier on one's ego than being called a 'simp'. What this concept really brings to light is the
Inexperience of authentic, interactions with the opposite sex.

How to become more experienced with the other gender? Well, I'm of the opinion that shame doesn't allow a person to heal and develop a deeper understanding of oneself.

Self-compassion does.

To comprehend the true motivation of why one gives to another demands a strong and robust sense of 'self-care'. We all have wounds.

Many give and take for wrong reasons. Many for the right reasons but in the wrong way. Many men love women. Many have genuine hearts. And a deep appreciation of the feminine.

A small minority don't.

Such men have deep wounds from childhood.

The same goes for women. Many love men.

Others wish to turn the masculine into worshipping, half-starved, slaves. By exploiting their inexperience. Inexperience that is not solely the responsibility of the individual but collective modern society as a whole.

In our world the genders are starved for meaningful, non-inebriated, conscious interaction between each other. Drunken frat parties don't count.

The irony is momentous. Those who have the potential to truly love you - may seem detestable to you. And those who will never love you - may prove incredibly desirable. For a time at least.

The solution: Love hard, but don't be a doormat. Tell and act out the truth when dealing with the opposite gender. Don't lie to yourself or others. Avoid those who hurt or disrespect you. Beware and be aware of one's libidinal instincts. Always treat others as an end in themselves and not a means. Censor one's dreams of the other sex so they don't make you run away into a fantasy of frustration and unhappiness in never neverland.

Connect with one's Anima - the storehouse of the feminine in one's masculine unconscious.

And the animus in the feminine individuals unconscious. In which all the interactions with men are stored.

And confront and own one's shadow.

In short, read Carl Jung.

At the Arcade Playing Tekken 7 - Anni Vs Heihachi Mashima

Last Friday night, my friend Anni had fun playing Tekken 7. He was doing very well until he was not doing very well. When his character (I forget who) fought Heihachi Mashima: a grizzly, old, muscle-bound, grandpa dressed in traditional karategi (karate suit). Things got wobbly. Heihachi threw endless electric blue punches, flying karate kicks of doom and intolerable backbreaking bodyslams from hell. For Anni's Tekken avatar, and perhaps the man himself, it all proved too much, and the battle was lost. The giant black and white words 'Game Over' flew across the games screen, and made us all collectively shudder. Thankfully, it was only a game and not a real battle of wits with one's life in the balance. A dollar and a bit well spent, I thought. You'll get 'em next time, Anni. 😉

Nausea Induced By Another Forgotten Homeless Man

A man sprawled on frozen concrete, draped in blankets of grey, lay directly behind us. 

Like good, little, pedestrians we waited for the green man to flash, allowing us to walk away.

My friend twisted his neck and looked at the man while continuing to talk.

His eyes scanned the man.

I scanned him, scanning the man.

The man on the ground was a calamity.

It physically hurt to see him lying there. 

Sleeping out in the icy night air.

Unappetising, white-bread sandwiches and cheap bottles of water were the man's only companions on a bustling Friday night.

The man seemed to be sound asleep, if that was humanly possible.

I thought about him deeply, and decided I did not like the man being there.

Why was he on the side street running off the main street of our city?

Was he poor? Evil? Neither? Both?

His squalor made us - society at large - a collective, laughing-stock.

His maligned existence in such a terrible state of disrepair was a horror.

A horror that made one feel ill, like one had eaten something rotten while downing expensive drinks at an upmarket cocktail bar.

It hurt to witness such a cold, unkept, homeless man abandoned on the grey corner. 

He just lay there awkwardly positioned on a cardboard mattress with those horrible, ill-fated, crumpled sandwiches made out of the most awful, unnutrutious, white-bread available. 

I hated the man. 

He was unignorable. 

An unignorable symbol of our modern societies failure to glue everyone together with a true sense of shared humanity that transcended the tyranny of economic imperatives in our global fish-bowl of a world.

The man was a blackhole. Of our collective human darkness. Hiding in plain sight. 

I was overwhelmed by nausea. Can you blame me?

What Am I Grateful For Today?

 I'm grateful to run down my street, at full speed, while the sunsets in murky shades of orange, on my way to the basketball court. Where I shoot, shot after shot. Not worrying when my basketball inevitably clunks off red metal rim, flying down court to be laboriously fetched. Again and again. I'm grateful when a gripless, worn, tattered basketball is shot perfectly. Wrist flicked, feet elevated, arms square, ordering the ball to drop like a stone through the basket, net whipping, ball bouncing. I'm grateful for the suns almighty power - to light up the world - preventing darkness from reigning supreme and causing untold misery. I'm grateful, when  walking home, I take extra large breathes, while passing by neighbour's blooming white orchids, whose syrupy scent speeds into flared nostrils and heaving lungs, sweetening the regal blue that flows throughout my aging body. 🙏💪❤️

Singing Tibetan Bowls of Peace and Tranquility

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gq8snFSEwlU&t=3318s

Listening to Tibetan singing bowls. Such soothing, relaxing, healing vibrations. Introspective calm filtering through  unwinding minds. Returning to the centre of the mandala. Letting one's thoughts drift away. Presence. Breathing deeply. Releasing slowly. Channelling feelings of gratitude and thoughts of compassion. Flowing like water tumbling down the side of a mountain in spring. Smiling inwardly. Not forcing, but flowing. 🙏🙏🌞

Renewing the Bonds of Friendship - The Platoon Rides Again

 Had a fantastic Friday night out with my awesome friends Sai, Anni and Boomy. We had many laughs at the arcade on Queen st. Anni excelled at Timesplitters. Sai punished yours truly in a nail-biting game of airhockey. Boomy decimated the candy floss machine. My modest victory was placing 4th on the Daytona racing game - up from 9th place. Grateful for my beautiful, blossoming friends. 🙏💪❤️ #platoon

Is It A Shooting Star?

A jetliner thousands of feet, high up in the sky - sailed through murky blueness. 

It's tail-light flickered red and white. 

Making me think of a lazy, obese, shooting star. 

I mentioned my thought to my niece on the cusp of sleep. 

With a yawn, she dissented, and whispered sleepily, 'It looks like a flying saucer.' 

I told her it was much too slow for that. 

She snored indifferently. 

I bathed in my hollow night-time victory.

And nervously tried to avoid falling asleep myself. 

But, soon one could hear a bumbling chorus, resonate through the upper reaches of the house.Enable GingerCannot connect to Ginger Check your internet connection
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My Nieces Love Colouring In Cats

Nieces art from today. They like nothing better than digitally colouring in cats on the computer when they get the chance. It's so cute to see them in a 'state of flow' at the computer. They don't even hear you when you talk to them. Active creative play is so much better than passive art consumption. Once they know the basics of the programme the nieces are happy doing everything themselves. This is a small fraction of their digital oeuvre. Big thanks to Uncle Charlie for picking up some felt tips for the nieces today too. Physically colouring in pictures is timeless. ;)Enable GingerCannot connect to Ginger Check your internet connection
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The Girl In Green Lost At Sea

The Girl In Green Lost At Sea

The girls green pants fluttered as she nibbled half-heartedly at an unappetising, homemade lunch.

She sat alone, in the middle of an unvarnished, wooden table, obscured by a building scrawled with meaningless graffiti.

I didn't realise it at first, but I understand now.

The girl was irretrievably lonesome.

It looked like she was drifting out to sea, caught in an emotional current of her own making.

Merely looking at her, made one fire off a flare, high into the darkened skies of one's forgotten memories.

'It's a crime to eat alone!', a ghostly voice whispered within me.

I cast my blurry eyes across her bony, white cheeks and surveyed her auburn, uncombed, hair that blew about in the wind.

A singular quality betrayed the loss of her fighting spirit.

It was as if a broken wretch lived in the depths of her crystal, blue eyes.

Or, an untarnished river that had never known the pollution of an inner-city harbour languished inside.

Yes, a tragedy had befallen this woman, and yet, here she was.

Still breathing, alive, ready to continue on her wayward way through life.

Hopelessly alone, like all of us. Unhappily happy.

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Notes on a Single Dream

Being pushed out of my shadows home and laughing about it.

A colossal movable building swimming pool boat.

Walking and running along a precarious construction site with my shadow a professor.

Watching huge chunks of metal smash and thrown away demolishin style.

Going poop on a toilet while two female professors engage me in a discussion and politely covering myself and then flushing the toilet when leaving.

Answering driving test questions that I guessed and making up answers while travelling on a bus.

Friend in my dream. Thought he was driving a bus, but he wasn't, he was a passenger.

Running late. Up and down stairs.

Flatmates constantly going to a pub. Music band themes.

Buying two Lord of the rings style caps for myself. Mother not happy. Being firm and standing my ground. Feeling happy. Feathery beanie. Magical weaponry theme.

Wearing a kilt. Anima saw me. I scowled and looked menacing while in the kilt impressing her.

Half naked (upper half) being admired.