“The wealth of the soul exists in images.” ~CGJung is quoted by @Depthinsights on Twitter. Images and symbols are our means of communication. I’m hoping Noam Chomsky will not disagree with me on that. So symbols, for the sake of non-debate, originate of the Collective Unconscious. And for as long as mankind has been able to make his mark in a place, it has put them down in various physical manifestations.
The circle has got to be one the most commonly configured complexes. Sometimes the analyst – me in this case – wishes to work his way from behavior back to symbol. Creating images is one way for me to understand the relation of behavior and symbol. In fact, I understand most subjects better with pictures. Yes, I’m the one who flips through the book for pictures before I read it. Did it in first grade; do it now.
If psychodynamics or archetypes takes a shape in a way Viktor Frankl has shown me somewhere, then I am more apt to find places that need development or change. I’m also better equipped to know when something needs to stay status quo. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. The elements that don’t need fixing can be called reference points. An electrical engineer might call these 0 volt points, grounds, floating grounds, Earth, or neutral. “Gosh, he’s got his feet firmly planted on the ground.”
My point is I think in images. Humanity’s images/symbols are brought forth most commonly as two dimensional plots. But of course, Plato would have to go and object. On returning to Yoda, his wisdom, and my obscure expansion that left my brain’s mouth dry with thirst... Well, that is exactly where I am. And I write that I may know me.
They say that if I know me, I can know you. This is my personal quandary. The beginning. But there is a tangent that tells me a circle is really a cycle. Circles feel complete. Many things “come full circle” because a circle is a cycle without at least the dimension of time... so the mathematicians tell me. Old Mr. Tangent would whirl me about like an inquisitive boy, were it not for Little Miss Anima.
I wondered first why I was angry. I found some reasons, but I did not find the cause immediately.
“My dear reader...” Mr. Tangent said in the voice of Diderot.
“...suffice it to know ‘twas decades of time that drew their staves pointing the way to this truth that fear is the singular cause of anger.” Miss Anima interrupted.
To make yet another leap of faith, “disconnection” by any other name is still the feeling “a-part” from others. It is not loneliness; it is alone-ness.
