i’m not done learning about the archetypes yet. not by a long shot. looks like i still have 9 hours of listening to do. today’s lunch learning was princess, damsel, virgin. hmph. light. i don’t happen to carry these with me, though i have a recognition of damsel, ‘needing to be rescued’… but the princess, ‘someone will take care of me’ is not in me. i can point at my friends who have this one right now, easy-peasy, because i recognize it, but don’t understand. its a perpetually young one, almost naive… that is waiting for her prince, her ‘one’… in order to evolve she has to face and break her own helplessness, evidently.
as for damsel? I’ve had a wild desire to be rescued, i’ll admit. I’ve wanted to be airlifted right out of what was going on and let someone else do all the work. i just don’t believe anyone can do that for me. so what does that make me? cynic?
the virgin, my friends, has little to do with sex. think, more along the lines of ‘virgin territories’… uncharted waters. the person who has the Virgin archetype is one who is more clean and free than the rest of us, unencumbered by the mess and weight of the past.
Myss says we carry 12 plus archetypes in us. I don’t think i’ve got these, beyond my glance at Damsel. You?
yep, you read that right. I’m on day 3 of listening to * Carolyn Myss talk about Archetypes, and how we all can relate better and feel more connected when we use a common language of symbol and metaphor. (of course, cross-cultural might provide hills and valleys, but Mother, Mother is the broadest thing in the universe, potentially, but is still Mother. Child, Warrior, Student, Saboteur, ) These are elements we have within us, not what we do to others, necessarily.
For fucksake, Mother Theresa wasn’t even a mother, and she was. right? we dig? Its not ‘literal’, its symbolic, full of meaning that doesn’t even need to be spoken. men can be Mother, ladies without kids can be Mother. whatever.
again, whatever. So, work is slow and I’m looking into the things I love. I love mysticism, have, do, but because I went to a Jesuit College, I studied a whole bunch of mystics, and I don’t envy them a goddamned bit.*= I mean, we’re talking very very dark trials and tribulations, some including blood and abandonment and hysteria, and super early deaths. So, you know, not that much of a celebrity thing.
BUT, I love Mother Theresa. And I’ve been getting into the whole ‘Listening to things on tape/phone’ thing lately. it allows me to concentrate in a way that I haven’t for a very long time, almost collegiate-ly.*-
“If I ever become a saint—I will surely be one of ‘darkness,’” Mother Teresa wrote in September of 1959. “I will continually be absent from heaven—to light the light of those in darkness on earth.” *& This site
oh, man, she is my guy. (I know)
and one of the archetypes that i’m learning I have in me is that of the Innocent Child, the Magical Child… ooooh, sparkly lights and rainbows and steadfast faith and oooh, a butterfly!! its not an immature thing, or naïve, but it is a pretty significant part of me in much of my life thus far. And… every archetype has its flipside, or ‘shadow’ and the times when my child is despondent, and believes in nothing, and hides in the blanket fort, are for real. Disappointment, loss of faith in the goodness, oh man, they swing through and knock me down.
I am not equating my mood swings to Mother Teresa’s dark nights of the soul. except metaphorically. **
anyhow, i’m freehanding this, and I want to stop now to go back to thinking. so, there. Oh my word, I just started to type something about how my bulletpoints below are hollow but stopped to look up what that meant literally and oh my god, guys, what kind of world are we living in?!
*I don’t know much about Myss or Sacred Contracts, or what not, but I ‘GET’ the idea of archetypes, whether we grasp them on the surface or just recognize them floating under the dock. I just ‘get’ it.
*=my language is pretty damn funny/punny. unintentional, I swear.
*-let us now talk about the girl who is deaf getting back into ‘listening’, shall we? no? okay then.
*& I don’t know anything about this site but its where I got the quote so I had to link.
**if there is a God, and a ‘living’ Mother T, then i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m not worthy… full on face in dirt.
whoo. school started four days ago. i’ve had a much harder time with it than expected. all the self-doubt and shifting identity landed at once with the introduction of so much time. I work, but barely scrape enough to make up for the change in alimony that happened a year ago. The farmstand parttime has helped a bunch too. it is good, i guess, as i’m still able to afford stuff, and pay for the new health insurance payment that i’ve got. kids get state aid but none for me, as alimony counts as income. money means house security and all that. and with the kids gone it all settles in and i’d be better off alone as i’m in this space of lack and fear about my own inability to earn enough money to be independent. well, it sure doesn’t help that i’m in a house too big for my britches and i’m deeply in love with it.
all that is really fucking boring for me too, believe that. like, hellaciously so.
I’ve got cold toes today, the first authentically chilly morning of the season. and its thrilling, and my heart hurts with all the things my inner critic is saying about my ability to take care of things.
and there is this:
all the sages say: focus on what is. be present, mindful of reality vs expectation or judgement.
shit man. if i’m living minute to minute, how do i assess plans for the future? how do i make plans at all?
i’m a 9 enneagram. you know what that is? it means i’m predisposed to avoid conflict and sometimes i get so lost in all the possible perspectives on an issue that i don’t know what my own opinion, need or want is. that makes me sometimes unknowable, i think.
old wives tales. tales from people who are or have been a wife* for more than a decade. … all your tales are old wives tales. all the things you’ve learned, all the world you’ve seen.
lets venerate ourselves. more, more. more.
get those glennon doyles, those liz gilberts, those oprahs, those anne lamotts… get them, put them in one spot and shine the hell out of them. read them to our kids, start borrowing bits of their knowledge and calling it our own, because we’re them too, just not with any platform. we do know as much as they do, actually.
although i envy the hell out of their ability to think and process and then SHARE so well. i’m missing at least one step at all times.
but still. bring it on, we old wives. . .
*recognizing ‘wife’ doesn’t have to mean ‘church wedding’, or hetero-anything.
i’m supposed to be a love giver, an affirmer. i am. not just ‘supposed’ to be …
i ACTUALLY am, but i’ve fallen off the wagon. and when you do that and you feel like you fail in that way, it is dank. moist. musty in a bad, bad way.
in one of the groups i am in, its actually my ‘job’ to be the lovah. and i’m falling off. sucking at it. NOT being the affirmer, NOT showing up at all.. dodging even.
UGH. I’m trying to work myself back to authentic me. whatever that is. like this title? i just like to say that word. a lot. so, finding the things I like and utilizing them.
i’ve taken on some little baby resets (courtesy of ms Hannah marcotti) … for six days at a time, i’ll add a new habit. i’ve added water to my desk. all the time, there’s a glass of water just sitting there. (so thats like, self-care, right? water?)
i’ve sometimes light a candle. (meh. only sometimes) i’m keeping the candle, but i might not keep that one. i like it, but hello sometimes i forget i have lit it. (overnight, once. so. danger.)
i’ve decided to read for all the minutes i have before six am. and sometimes thats almost an hour.
today it was two hours.
so the books are back in town, and that feels good.
i feel like my chipper is just around the corner. i’m tired of being in my cave, kind of. only a little. not really.
but something does need to be different. and i actually need those pieces of me back, those affirming-of-others pieces… its my legs, yo.