I would like to sit alongside your silence. Don’t want to disturb it. I would offer colour rather than noise. Matthew 18: 3-6. I will come back to that.
Here There Be Dragons: A fabulous-sounding piece of pseudo-history in itself; despite the idea that this phrase alongside pictorial representations of dragons was a trope common to medieval cartography, employed to indicate unknown areas of assumed danger there are, apparently, only two such examples in existence.
In popular culture, Roland Joffe used the phrase in truncated form, Here Be Dragons, for his less than successful cinema account of the early life of St Jose Maria Escriva, during the civil war in Spain. According to the publicity the film set out to examine betrayal, hatred, friendship and love as they are discovered and played out in the every day life of nation at war with itself. As I remember it, most of that stuff must have gotten left on the cutting room floor.
Which, in a way I can’t quite hold on to, leads me back to the bit from Matthew advertised above. Jesus calls over a kid, takes him up and places her in the middle of the disciples. For, as per the norm, the rural band of ragamuffins, vagabonds and outsiders who form his inner circle have put before him a question which, yet gain, demonstrates their utter lack of understanding.
‘Amen’, he says, ‘unless you are converted and become as little children you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven’.
They are not, you will note, to learn to think like little children; neither are they to imagine what it must feel like to be a little child. They are to be ‘converted’. What he wants for them is a metanoia; a repentant turning-about. An open-ness to the Father’s Grace-filled work.
He wants them to turn away from the enculturated ways of seeing and hearing and, understanding and believing and loving and fearing and desiring. He wants them to be as “little children’; not like David, so youthful proto-warrior; but those who remain, still, in a pre-gendered state within the nurturing household, learning by imitation. This ‘household’ , for Jesus, being the ‘Kingdom of God’.
Reminds me of one of my favourite quotes from Georges Bernanos, written at the end of his life:
“My life doesn’t matter. I merely wish to be faithful until the end to the child I was. For what I possess of honour, and my paltry share of courage, I inherit from the small being, so mysterious now, who ran through September rains, across flooded fields, his heart heavy with the thought of approaching school, of dismal courtyards where dark winter would bid him welcome, of stinking classrooms, of refectories with greasy breath, of interminable, ostentatious high masses where the goaded young soul knew nothing to share with God but weariness - from the child I was, who is now for me like a grandfather”.
It is an interesting thing to be made simple. I tend to resist that. As do many of us, I would guess. Why is that? It is at times an insult to be called simple, rather than a gift as they Shakers had it. To be complicated--according to the etymology--is to be folded together with the connotation of being combined, entangled and intertwined. And there is, conversely, an odd compliment with that. We like things to be complex--complex thought and philosophy, for example. And I will add that what we refer to as our psychological issues was once called a complex. Which is telling.
To be simple is to be made one, to be disentangled. Which brings to mind John 17:21-23
That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one: I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me.
I am rereading The Cloud of Unknowing. In chapters 13 and 14 he makes the distinction between imperfect and perfect humility. It gets at something central that I was groping towards in this post.
"Even though I call self-knowledge an "imperfect" humility, I value it highly. Because even if every saint, angel in heaven, and church member did nothing but constantly petition God on my behalf, asking that I grow in humility, their prayers would not help me achieve this growth as much as if I possess a real understanding of who I am. Self-knowledge is the only way to get and keep the virtue of humility"
Then he tells us, "not to flinch in the face of the tremendous work involved." Perfect humility, on the other hand, can only be granted by the grace of God.
Which brings me the long way around to your observation of becoming as a little child of Matthew 18: 3-6. This is the task. One we both need to fully participate in and let go off completely as it is done to us. So it seems to me.
I did notice milling around the internet on the term Here Be Dragons, that it was something of a Myth. The image I used for this post may be from the travels of St. Brendan the Voyager. Though that is just a guess.
It is a beautiful sunny morning here at the Hermitage. We were socked in by low clouds again for the past day or so. It was nice to step outside and feel the warm sun again.
I hope all is well with you in your part of the world. -Jack
Lovely piece, Jack. I could never articulate these things so well.
About the real estate... if people want to move away from the machine centers isn't it only a question of being willing to make less money and live in a run-down place? I think so many who "can't afford" to leave cities just mean they can't afford the same standard of living if they leave. One could certainly get a job at a gas station or small store and live cheaply in the country it seems to me. That's my two cents.
Clara- I think that is spot on. For most of us in the absence of financial capital we need "social capital". If there were even a small group of people on the same plan, moving out of the population centers to the countryside would be doable. The trade would be to give up material wealth for spiritual and cultural depth. A trade well worth making. It might take a few twists and turns for more of us to get there and see its value. I think it would take more focus and discipline to do it on one's own. But still possible.
How is our move going? I'm not sure. We are plagued by uncertainty. We are also terrible real estate flippers. Every project that needs to be finished up on our current house my husband carefully approaches with handmade workmanship of the highest quality. This is not a good way to quickly sell for the highest profit possible... but it feels evil to do the other.
We have many conversations about our doubts, hopes, and longings. I feel we are on the right track. Our kids are getting used to the idea, too.
I recently read a memoir by Melissa Coleman about growing up on a homestead in Maine, This Life is in Your Hands. Her parents were pioneers of the organic farming movement and hard-core opponents of the consumer culture etc. The story is a tragic one of the family falling apart and the death of a daughter. Lots of food for thought. One of the things Melissa said in an interview where she was asked to give advice to families who are making similar moves to her parents', was that for it to work she thinks people need a spiritual practice to guide them. Of course you and I would agree, but in looking for a place to buy we haven't been looking for nearby churches that we might attend. There are churches in almost all small towns but how does one evaluate them from a distance? I've no idea. We are very much unable to find a church that feels like-minded even here. No easy paths forward.
Lots of people are feeling that back to the land impulse but the spiritual heart of it is harder to track down. I have felt truly uplifted by the things you share on this substack, though.
Thank you for the update. I don't think this will be an easy passage for most of us. No surprise there. That said, I am sorry to hear the path isn't clearer. It isn't clear for me either. I am praying for you.
I am glad that my own groping in the dark has been helpful to you in whatever degree.
Thank you fir this post, Jack! What a fascinating story of your early encounter with your inner landscape.
I have found Jesus teaching of 'Love your enemies' to be equally, or even more important, when applied to my inner dragons as to my perceived adversaries in the world. Of course, they are intimately interconnected, as the people I come to see as 'enemies' in the outside world almost always are carrying an aspect of my own inner shadow material that remains rejected and unloved inside myself. When I pray for and love the enemy 'out there' I bring healing to the fractures in my inner psyche, and when I can be lovingly present - and even forgiving - with the dragons within my psyche, it becomes easier to love other people, no matter what they're bringing to the table.
Mark- You bring up a crucial point here. My own experience particularly early on was these inner dragons were overwhelming and too painful to deal with. I looked far and wide for help in doing so. Which wasn't easy to find. Therapy goes part of the way but gets caught up in modern and postmodern notions of selfhood and autonomy. Ironically it becomes another way of getting lost and not truly facing ourselves.
I have found it to be just as you say. In failing to vanquish my dragons I project that onto others and blame them for the state of the world, for the chaos I myself am bringing wherever I go. And others are doing likewise to me. You are exactly right only in being healed myself can this begin to change. Only then is there meaning to loving my neighbor as myself, let alone loving my enemies.
In silence the work goes on in ways I cannot fathom. I only need to assent to it. Slowly, slowly life becomes more simple. May it continue in all of us.
Thank you for this. An interesting summary of the various impulses to solitude. Not all of them good for us, I fear. I think it really takes a rare confluence of circumstances to make pure solitude beneficial. The unavoidable fact is that we bring ourselves into silence. We may not be able to face alone what we find in ourselves. So it is not something to be entered into lightly.
I wonder if a hybrid form is more conducive to those who seek solitude but probably wouldn't do well with a lifetime of it. I think about a small community of contemplatives who can live together, help each other and still live mostly in silence. There are many more examples of that, and I hope that it becomes more available for those who seek it. Even so, it isn't a sure thing as our brokenness can do us in, even in groups. Especially there. A conundrum.
We need to cultivate a profound stability of heart and mind before we can profitably enter into a deeper silence. This is in short supply. Living in the noise of the world only militates against it.
Sep 27, 2022·edited Sep 27, 2022Liked by Jack Leahy
Thank you for your writings, thoughts and wonderings. It's been a balm and comfort as of late. Much like yourself, and others here who comment, I'm finding myself increasingly unmoored from Western (American) culture/society and have been grappling as to what to do about it (besides just reading, of course). While I am not religious—and in the past quite opposed to it (my angry atheist 20's)— I've since mellowed out and see how it can provide an anchor point and structure to those who worship, especially in a society eager to relinquish all boundaries (emotional and physical) and values. Looking forward to reading more of your journey.
LDB- Thank you for your kind words. I think many of us are feeling something destabilizing going on and are groping for a way to describe it let alone how to respond. I believe having conversations about it--such as we try to do here--without grasping after easy certainties, is a necessary beginning. Also to make a time for putting aside distractions, be silent in silence, and be still. Neither of those things require prior belief. Who knows where they may lead?
Jack, I wanted to say how much I have benefited from your posting. I am a trans woman in seminary and I am very, very good at reading, talking, and writing. It is learning to live into stillness that is proving illusory. I have discovered the traditions of the desert fathers and the Irish monks and seeing how you are applying it today - and your thoughts that result - is a great encouragement. I look forward to reading more!
Karlie- Thank you. I am glad to hear that you are getting something from these posts. I think many of us know what it is like to get caught up in words. There are so many of them these days!
I think of the famous saying by St. Isaac the Syrian: Silence is the mystery of the age to come, but words are instruments of this world.
Hi Jack, I’m grateful for your writing. Sometimes I even somewhat reach silence and stillness, which floods me with hope. I have you (via FCF) to thank for this practice.
Mike- Thank you for being here and for your kind words. We surely live in strange times. The practice of silence and stillness is one way to not get so easily dragged down into the absurdity of it. Not only that, but to begin to see what truly matters. That is my hope too. And Flat Caps and Fatalism does beautiful work, I think.
And, on a lighter note, my first serious electric was a cream colored Fender Strat with a maple neck. I eventually grew to prefer the rosewood fretboards...but I was but a lad when I bought my first Strat. Eventually I became a big fan of Gretsch guitars. I sometimes even miss those!
Mine's a Tokai. Pre-lawsuit. Pridefully I celebrate buying it long ago when they were dirt cheap haha!
On a serious note, your piece has just inspired me to write my next one which contemplates the unexpected ways I sometimes (and all too rarely) find peace. Thanks again - I had no idea what to write about until I read yours.
I was in the middle of reading this, and struggling to focus, as my kids were watching a film too loudly. I went and told them to turn it down, then came back and re-started on your essay – and only then did I realize that in telling them to turn it down, I had managed to stir up my own annoyance.
The irony! And yet it comes back to your very point; the effort to vanquish only inflames the dragon.
It is interesting. Once I started seeing this pattern in myself and how I relate to others and to the world, I couldn't *not* see the pattern. Stranger still, once I started seeing it, the pattern tended to change seemingly on its own.
As for the Noise Dragon, living in an apt. for so many years that was a big one for me, particularly at night. I was always ready to cue up the Carmina Burana, mount my steed of fury and charge into battle--whether I actually did anything or not. And then I would wonder why I didn't sleep very well after that.
JiK- I think this is all the result of the loss of a contemplative tradition in the West. At some point it seems that we all just started fighting over doctrine. First in Christianity, then between various secular ideologies. When Freud came along, and then Jung etc., it was like finding an undiscovered country. A territory humans have known about for thousands of years, but we had forgotten.
That we dove into the "unconscious" without having a long tradition of introspection and contemplative only led us in many ways into madness. Both individually and collectively. That some added mind-altering drugs to the mix, only compounded our error. That was like putting the whole process into overdrive. We have lost our way.
I think we are now undergoing a more sensible return to our contemplative traditions--albeit slowly. Even there, the warning from the tradition is to do this under guidance and with a clean conscience. If we are heedless we will often be overwhelmed by what we find. We go in alone at our own peril.
Even so, the point of contemplation isn't necessarily to explore the symbols of the unconscious, or some such, but rather to let those go and hopefully find--or be found by-- something deeper and more real than what is in the shifting sands of the mind. The latter seem to sort themselves out when we stop paying any attention to them and focus on what is most real.
What we can do is slowly start to repair our contemplative tradition and then be repaired ourselves. The rest of it we must be very careful about, I think.
Thank you for being here and contributing to this conversation.
But to answer your question more personally, the kind of freeform "inner explorations" of consciousness have been largely disastrous. I know this from personal experience. As social structures were breaking down, so was the guidance on how to live a virtuous life. Compound that with no wisdom tradition that could help us navigate all this and is it any surprise we have lost and suspect we have wasted our lives. The more obvious result of this inner and outer breakdown is anxiety, depression, addiction, sleeplessness and on and on.
Again, we need to rebuild our own contemplative traditions, learning from other traditions which are more intact as we can. The hope is that we can start to develop again a deeper understanding of our inner lives and in the proper context. We will need Elders for this, but they are in short supply...having come of age under the same psychological and social chaos we are describing here. Still, I do believe it can be done. One thing we can do is cultivate places where this practice can be establish more deeply. Before even that we probably need to find the best guide we can, someone we trust, and get started.
N.B. But without basic mental stability, ethical behavior, and a clear conscience it is unwise to begin. Otherwise we risk getting swamped all over again
I would like to sit alongside your silence. Don’t want to disturb it. I would offer colour rather than noise. Matthew 18: 3-6. I will come back to that.
Here There Be Dragons: A fabulous-sounding piece of pseudo-history in itself; despite the idea that this phrase alongside pictorial representations of dragons was a trope common to medieval cartography, employed to indicate unknown areas of assumed danger there are, apparently, only two such examples in existence.
In popular culture, Roland Joffe used the phrase in truncated form, Here Be Dragons, for his less than successful cinema account of the early life of St Jose Maria Escriva, during the civil war in Spain. According to the publicity the film set out to examine betrayal, hatred, friendship and love as they are discovered and played out in the every day life of nation at war with itself. As I remember it, most of that stuff must have gotten left on the cutting room floor.
Which, in a way I can’t quite hold on to, leads me back to the bit from Matthew advertised above. Jesus calls over a kid, takes him up and places her in the middle of the disciples. For, as per the norm, the rural band of ragamuffins, vagabonds and outsiders who form his inner circle have put before him a question which, yet gain, demonstrates their utter lack of understanding.
‘Amen’, he says, ‘unless you are converted and become as little children you shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven’.
They are not, you will note, to learn to think like little children; neither are they to imagine what it must feel like to be a little child. They are to be ‘converted’. What he wants for them is a metanoia; a repentant turning-about. An open-ness to the Father’s Grace-filled work.
He wants them to turn away from the enculturated ways of seeing and hearing and, understanding and believing and loving and fearing and desiring. He wants them to be as “little children’; not like David, so youthful proto-warrior; but those who remain, still, in a pre-gendered state within the nurturing household, learning by imitation. This ‘household’ , for Jesus, being the ‘Kingdom of God’.
Reminds me of one of my favourite quotes from Georges Bernanos, written at the end of his life:
“My life doesn’t matter. I merely wish to be faithful until the end to the child I was. For what I possess of honour, and my paltry share of courage, I inherit from the small being, so mysterious now, who ran through September rains, across flooded fields, his heart heavy with the thought of approaching school, of dismal courtyards where dark winter would bid him welcome, of stinking classrooms, of refectories with greasy breath, of interminable, ostentatious high masses where the goaded young soul knew nothing to share with God but weariness - from the child I was, who is now for me like a grandfather”.
John- Beautiful comment, as always.
It is an interesting thing to be made simple. I tend to resist that. As do many of us, I would guess. Why is that? It is at times an insult to be called simple, rather than a gift as they Shakers had it. To be complicated--according to the etymology--is to be folded together with the connotation of being combined, entangled and intertwined. And there is, conversely, an odd compliment with that. We like things to be complex--complex thought and philosophy, for example. And I will add that what we refer to as our psychological issues was once called a complex. Which is telling.
To be simple is to be made one, to be disentangled. Which brings to mind John 17:21-23
That they all may be one; as thou, Father, art in me, and I in thee, that they also may be one in us: that the world may believe that thou hast sent me. And the glory which thou gavest me I have given them; that they may be one, even as we are one: I in them, and thou in me, that they may be made perfect in one; and that the world may know that thou hast sent me, and hast loved them, as thou hast loved me.
I am rereading The Cloud of Unknowing. In chapters 13 and 14 he makes the distinction between imperfect and perfect humility. It gets at something central that I was groping towards in this post.
"Even though I call self-knowledge an "imperfect" humility, I value it highly. Because even if every saint, angel in heaven, and church member did nothing but constantly petition God on my behalf, asking that I grow in humility, their prayers would not help me achieve this growth as much as if I possess a real understanding of who I am. Self-knowledge is the only way to get and keep the virtue of humility"
Then he tells us, "not to flinch in the face of the tremendous work involved." Perfect humility, on the other hand, can only be granted by the grace of God.
Which brings me the long way around to your observation of becoming as a little child of Matthew 18: 3-6. This is the task. One we both need to fully participate in and let go off completely as it is done to us. So it seems to me.
I did notice milling around the internet on the term Here Be Dragons, that it was something of a Myth. The image I used for this post may be from the travels of St. Brendan the Voyager. Though that is just a guess.
It is a beautiful sunny morning here at the Hermitage. We were socked in by low clouds again for the past day or so. It was nice to step outside and feel the warm sun again.
I hope all is well with you in your part of the world. -Jack
Lovely piece, Jack. I could never articulate these things so well.
About the real estate... if people want to move away from the machine centers isn't it only a question of being willing to make less money and live in a run-down place? I think so many who "can't afford" to leave cities just mean they can't afford the same standard of living if they leave. One could certainly get a job at a gas station or small store and live cheaply in the country it seems to me. That's my two cents.
Clara
Clara- I think that is spot on. For most of us in the absence of financial capital we need "social capital". If there were even a small group of people on the same plan, moving out of the population centers to the countryside would be doable. The trade would be to give up material wealth for spiritual and cultural depth. A trade well worth making. It might take a few twists and turns for more of us to get there and see its value. I think it would take more focus and discipline to do it on one's own. But still possible.
How is your possible move going?
-Jack
How is our move going? I'm not sure. We are plagued by uncertainty. We are also terrible real estate flippers. Every project that needs to be finished up on our current house my husband carefully approaches with handmade workmanship of the highest quality. This is not a good way to quickly sell for the highest profit possible... but it feels evil to do the other.
We have many conversations about our doubts, hopes, and longings. I feel we are on the right track. Our kids are getting used to the idea, too.
I recently read a memoir by Melissa Coleman about growing up on a homestead in Maine, This Life is in Your Hands. Her parents were pioneers of the organic farming movement and hard-core opponents of the consumer culture etc. The story is a tragic one of the family falling apart and the death of a daughter. Lots of food for thought. One of the things Melissa said in an interview where she was asked to give advice to families who are making similar moves to her parents', was that for it to work she thinks people need a spiritual practice to guide them. Of course you and I would agree, but in looking for a place to buy we haven't been looking for nearby churches that we might attend. There are churches in almost all small towns but how does one evaluate them from a distance? I've no idea. We are very much unable to find a church that feels like-minded even here. No easy paths forward.
Lots of people are feeling that back to the land impulse but the spiritual heart of it is harder to track down. I have felt truly uplifted by the things you share on this substack, though.
Clara
Clara-
Thank you for the update. I don't think this will be an easy passage for most of us. No surprise there. That said, I am sorry to hear the path isn't clearer. It isn't clear for me either. I am praying for you.
I am glad that my own groping in the dark has been helpful to you in whatever degree.
-Jack
Thank you fir this post, Jack! What a fascinating story of your early encounter with your inner landscape.
I have found Jesus teaching of 'Love your enemies' to be equally, or even more important, when applied to my inner dragons as to my perceived adversaries in the world. Of course, they are intimately interconnected, as the people I come to see as 'enemies' in the outside world almost always are carrying an aspect of my own inner shadow material that remains rejected and unloved inside myself. When I pray for and love the enemy 'out there' I bring healing to the fractures in my inner psyche, and when I can be lovingly present - and even forgiving - with the dragons within my psyche, it becomes easier to love other people, no matter what they're bringing to the table.
Mark- You bring up a crucial point here. My own experience particularly early on was these inner dragons were overwhelming and too painful to deal with. I looked far and wide for help in doing so. Which wasn't easy to find. Therapy goes part of the way but gets caught up in modern and postmodern notions of selfhood and autonomy. Ironically it becomes another way of getting lost and not truly facing ourselves.
I have found it to be just as you say. In failing to vanquish my dragons I project that onto others and blame them for the state of the world, for the chaos I myself am bringing wherever I go. And others are doing likewise to me. You are exactly right only in being healed myself can this begin to change. Only then is there meaning to loving my neighbor as myself, let alone loving my enemies.
In silence the work goes on in ways I cannot fathom. I only need to assent to it. Slowly, slowly life becomes more simple. May it continue in all of us.
I hope all is well with you in Vermont. -Jack
Hi Jack, you may appreciate this write up on Hermits:
https://longreads.com/2022/09/08/the-substance-of-silence/
Dan-
Thank you for this. An interesting summary of the various impulses to solitude. Not all of them good for us, I fear. I think it really takes a rare confluence of circumstances to make pure solitude beneficial. The unavoidable fact is that we bring ourselves into silence. We may not be able to face alone what we find in ourselves. So it is not something to be entered into lightly.
I wonder if a hybrid form is more conducive to those who seek solitude but probably wouldn't do well with a lifetime of it. I think about a small community of contemplatives who can live together, help each other and still live mostly in silence. There are many more examples of that, and I hope that it becomes more available for those who seek it. Even so, it isn't a sure thing as our brokenness can do us in, even in groups. Especially there. A conundrum.
Thank you again for the link. Be well. -Jack
We need to cultivate a profound stability of heart and mind before we can profitably enter into a deeper silence. This is in short supply. Living in the noise of the world only militates against it.
On dragons:
https://www.blueletterbible.org/lexicon/h8577/kjv/wlc/0-1/
https://www.blueletterbible.org/lexicon/g1404/kjv/tr/0-1/
And on the defeat of the great dragon: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B487M8KEkpHZdUxUcm5nZmViUkU/view?usp=sharing&resourcekey=0-7W4Mm5g9xGotc1UitYpzGA
cheers!
Thank you for your writings, thoughts and wonderings. It's been a balm and comfort as of late. Much like yourself, and others here who comment, I'm finding myself increasingly unmoored from Western (American) culture/society and have been grappling as to what to do about it (besides just reading, of course). While I am not religious—and in the past quite opposed to it (my angry atheist 20's)— I've since mellowed out and see how it can provide an anchor point and structure to those who worship, especially in a society eager to relinquish all boundaries (emotional and physical) and values. Looking forward to reading more of your journey.
LDB- Thank you for your kind words. I think many of us are feeling something destabilizing going on and are groping for a way to describe it let alone how to respond. I believe having conversations about it--such as we try to do here--without grasping after easy certainties, is a necessary beginning. Also to make a time for putting aside distractions, be silent in silence, and be still. Neither of those things require prior belief. Who knows where they may lead?
I hope you are well. -Jack
Jack, I wanted to say how much I have benefited from your posting. I am a trans woman in seminary and I am very, very good at reading, talking, and writing. It is learning to live into stillness that is proving illusory. I have discovered the traditions of the desert fathers and the Irish monks and seeing how you are applying it today - and your thoughts that result - is a great encouragement. I look forward to reading more!
Karlie- Thank you. I am glad to hear that you are getting something from these posts. I think many of us know what it is like to get caught up in words. There are so many of them these days!
I think of the famous saying by St. Isaac the Syrian: Silence is the mystery of the age to come, but words are instruments of this world.
I hope you are well. -Jack
Hi Jack, I’m grateful for your writing. Sometimes I even somewhat reach silence and stillness, which floods me with hope. I have you (via FCF) to thank for this practice.
Mike- Thank you for being here and for your kind words. We surely live in strange times. The practice of silence and stillness is one way to not get so easily dragged down into the absurdity of it. Not only that, but to begin to see what truly matters. That is my hope too. And Flat Caps and Fatalism does beautiful work, I think.
And, on a lighter note, my first serious electric was a cream colored Fender Strat with a maple neck. I eventually grew to prefer the rosewood fretboards...but I was but a lad when I bought my first Strat. Eventually I became a big fan of Gretsch guitars. I sometimes even miss those!
Anyway, I hope you are well. -Jack
Mine's a Tokai. Pre-lawsuit. Pridefully I celebrate buying it long ago when they were dirt cheap haha!
On a serious note, your piece has just inspired me to write my next one which contemplates the unexpected ways I sometimes (and all too rarely) find peace. Thanks again - I had no idea what to write about until I read yours.
My first, first Strat was a Tokai. Black with maple neck.
I look forward to what you have to say. -Jack
I was in the middle of reading this, and struggling to focus, as my kids were watching a film too loudly. I went and told them to turn it down, then came back and re-started on your essay – and only then did I realize that in telling them to turn it down, I had managed to stir up my own annoyance.
The irony! And yet it comes back to your very point; the effort to vanquish only inflames the dragon.
It is interesting. Once I started seeing this pattern in myself and how I relate to others and to the world, I couldn't *not* see the pattern. Stranger still, once I started seeing it, the pattern tended to change seemingly on its own.
As for the Noise Dragon, living in an apt. for so many years that was a big one for me, particularly at night. I was always ready to cue up the Carmina Burana, mount my steed of fury and charge into battle--whether I actually did anything or not. And then I would wonder why I didn't sleep very well after that.
JiK- I think this is all the result of the loss of a contemplative tradition in the West. At some point it seems that we all just started fighting over doctrine. First in Christianity, then between various secular ideologies. When Freud came along, and then Jung etc., it was like finding an undiscovered country. A territory humans have known about for thousands of years, but we had forgotten.
That we dove into the "unconscious" without having a long tradition of introspection and contemplative only led us in many ways into madness. Both individually and collectively. That some added mind-altering drugs to the mix, only compounded our error. That was like putting the whole process into overdrive. We have lost our way.
I think we are now undergoing a more sensible return to our contemplative traditions--albeit slowly. Even there, the warning from the tradition is to do this under guidance and with a clean conscience. If we are heedless we will often be overwhelmed by what we find. We go in alone at our own peril.
Even so, the point of contemplation isn't necessarily to explore the symbols of the unconscious, or some such, but rather to let those go and hopefully find--or be found by-- something deeper and more real than what is in the shifting sands of the mind. The latter seem to sort themselves out when we stop paying any attention to them and focus on what is most real.
What we can do is slowly start to repair our contemplative tradition and then be repaired ourselves. The rest of it we must be very careful about, I think.
Thank you for being here and contributing to this conversation.
-Jack
But to answer your question more personally, the kind of freeform "inner explorations" of consciousness have been largely disastrous. I know this from personal experience. As social structures were breaking down, so was the guidance on how to live a virtuous life. Compound that with no wisdom tradition that could help us navigate all this and is it any surprise we have lost and suspect we have wasted our lives. The more obvious result of this inner and outer breakdown is anxiety, depression, addiction, sleeplessness and on and on.
Again, we need to rebuild our own contemplative traditions, learning from other traditions which are more intact as we can. The hope is that we can start to develop again a deeper understanding of our inner lives and in the proper context. We will need Elders for this, but they are in short supply...having come of age under the same psychological and social chaos we are describing here. Still, I do believe it can be done. One thing we can do is cultivate places where this practice can be establish more deeply. Before even that we probably need to find the best guide we can, someone we trust, and get started.
N.B. But without basic mental stability, ethical behavior, and a clear conscience it is unwise to begin. Otherwise we risk getting swamped all over again