psychic origins…

Tuesday, June 1st, 2010
twisted trunk...

twisted trunk...

Been somewhat busy of late engaging with a massive restructuring of my garden – involving the moving of many tonnes of earth and the building (by stone masons) of some rather lovely retaining walls of local stone… but that’s for a future blog – when I shall attempt to express my delight in natural materials and the skill and craft of human hands…

Now I would like to share what I believe about an aspect of the origins of the individual psyche… This goes to the roots of what I understand about my own psyche.

It could be the case that a psyche is like soup – to which experience is added as ingredients that constantly change its flavour. By this reckoning, it should be possible, by adding a little pinch of this, a little pinch of that, to sweeten the soup if it is to bitter; to add a dash of bitterness if it is too sickly – and thus to transform the psyche to a perfect balance…

Alas, my experience of therapy suggests to me that this is not possible. Instead it seems to me that the psyche is like a seedling that grows into a tree. At any point in its life, the form this tree takes is the sum of all its experiences: the sunlight of love that has fallen on it, the nurture that it has been able to draw up through its roots from the soil in which its seed fell, the storms it has endured. But it is clearly the case that the further back to the seed we go, the more fundamental are the influences on its future form. In its adult form, the psychic tree will need a gale to tear off one of its branches. By contrast, as a seedling, a glancing blow might be enough to take that branch off in its embryonic form…

No form of healing can hope to replace a branch lost in ’seedlinghood’. What therapy can do is to bring awareness of how small that injury was – though it came to have such massive and lasting consequence – and thus a psyche can come to understand, accept and value the shape it has, without regret, as the natural consequence of its life experiences…

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who wants to live for ever…?

Tuesday, December 15th, 2009

Damien Hirst skull

Damien Hirst skull

I used to passionately desire immortality. I would argue its benefits: the ability to experience so much more, to achieve so much more, to produce so much more artistic work. I wanted this so much that I remember getting quite manic reading Raymond Kurzweil who believes that we’re on the verge of being capable of halting ageing – and that, once this is achieved, it would only be a matter of time before rejuvenation became technologically available – and youthful immortality would become a reality. He is pursuing this dream so hard that, each day, he consumes a smörgåsbord of pills: vitamins, anti-oxidants, etc…

When I emerged from 5 years of gestalt therapy, I no longer desired immortality. Why should that be? Well, it seems to me that the reason is because I had ’slain my demons’ – or at least come to an accommodation with them. I am now pretty certain that the pressure for immortality came from a realization that I had these demons to deal with; had been on the planet for 40 years and, in that time, I had made no progress whatsoever with them. On this basis, projecting forward, it was obvious – to my unconscious – that it was going to take an infinitely long time to deal with them. Thus the need for immortality.

The quest for immortality now seems to me not only hubristic, but another example of how out of touch with reality we have become. Here we are on a planet that is not really capable of supporting our population as it is, and that will soon have to support 2 billion more – and Mr Kurzweil is proposing that people (no doubt the rich) should stop dying… It is utterly, utterly insane!

And then I read an interview with Kurzweil in which he was bemoaning that he had never got over his father dying and that he wants to bring him back to life. I am with Jung on this… beyond midlife, the purpose of living becomes to accept loss – and in that loss to find individual fulfilment. To everything there is a season. Without death, I believe that life becomes essentially pointless – a ship at sea with no course or destination…

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slow thinking…

Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009
a hippo at brookfield zoo, chicago ©Julie Greiner

a hippo at brookfield zoo, chicago ©Julie Greiner

I increasingly feel that being quick-witted is overrated. What is it for? Being funny? We seem to be obsessed with speed in everything and that includes thinking. Perhaps this is part of our fixation with youth… Certainly, when I was younger, I was far more quick witted than I am now. One aspect of this was a ’switch-blade’ memory: where I never found myself unable to retrieve the exact word when I needed it. I am beginning to suspect that this was an illusion – that, in my 20s, my notion of the ‘exact word’ might well not past muster now. Of course, another explanation for my current struggles to retrieve the ‘exact word’ could be put down to ageing. However, it does seem to me that there are other (more agreeable *grin*) possible explanations. It could be that I am now much more exacting about what the ‘exact word’ might be. It could be that I have trained my brain to suit my job as a writer so that it delivers to me the ‘exact word’. It could be that I have been constantly filling my head with ’stuff’ since then and that it just takes a bit longer to search for the ‘exact word’ amongst the miles of dusty shelves that now constitute my memory…

Not that any of this really matters… because what I am really wanting to say is that if I now appear to be thinking more slowly, it is because I am swimming deeper – spanning longer reaches of argument. Perhaps this is what we all do as we grow older. Perhaps this is the benefit that ageing brings not just to us, but to the rest of society. Perhaps this is the path that leads towards wisdom…

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the curse of mirrors and photographs…

Tuesday, October 13th, 2009

It has occurred to me that mirrors and photographs of a person can be a curse. Why? Well, it seems to me that it is not natural for a person to see himself/herself from the ‘outside’. We see ourselves better and more ‘truly’ either from the ‘inside’ – or reflected in the faces and reactions of others to us. Other people, our friends and family, are the best mirrors. To see yourself in a mirror is to see yourself as an object – to split from yourself – to encourage yourself to be both subject and critic… And I believe that the healthy place for us to be is ‘in’ ourselves, looking out at the world…

Consider how alienating it is to see yourself in a mirror. If you are feeling happy with yourself, looking in a mirror can only serve to either undermine your sense of yourself, or else to promote a vanity that makes you become a caricature of yourself… that makes you behave as if you are wearing a mask…

Photos of us only serve to fix, without possibility of change, an impression of ourselves that is always going to be false. Even if – and this is rare – it captures a ‘good’ impression of us, it does so lifelessly. It can easily become a replacement for living memory – and a source of reproach for how we are getting fat, losing our hair, ageing – what benefit is that?

I went to a 25 year reunion where everyone responded with delight at seeing long lost friends. Joyfully we all were convinced that no-one had changed – been damaged by time. Of course, in any sense that is of value, this was true. However, someone brought out a photograph taken 25 years ago. And suddenly we were confronted with how we had looked – and these people seemed like children. The joy in the room was tainted by melancholy. What benefit did that photograph bring…?

I wonder if, perhaps, the injunction in Islam (and in stricter Judaism) against making representations of people (and animals) – that is always rather crudely interpreted as a fear of idols – of the Golden Calf – may be in fact the wisdom that such images (of which I would claim mirrors and, certainly, photographs examples) cause unhappiness…

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University of Edinburgh Freshercon…

Friday, September 18th, 2009
speech card...

speech card...

It was only when I arrived outside the venue for this event that it occurred to me that I should have announced it here, on my blog. Not entirely sure why I didn’t… Apologies if you might have wanted to be there but weren’t…

This talk was specifically for freshers (students coming to university for the first time) with a view of encouraging them to join the university’s Science Fiction and Fantasy Society. It was well attended. I read some stuff from the various Stone Dance books and talked a little about who I was and how I had got into writing…

I talked about Tolkien and Moorcock: how the former inspired me by his method and approach; how the latter reinforced my own desires to escape from the tyranny exercised by ‘feudal Europe’ over fantasy. I talked about how dated Tolkien’s ‘black hat/ white hat’ characterisations can be – that though this polarized view of reality might perhaps be natural to people living through the two World Wars and who were still deeply influenced by Christian dualism, but that today I felt it necessary to take a more subtle, nuanced position. I touched on Dune, Ursula le Guin, Ray Bradbury and Gene Wolf. Then I moved to discussing the renaissance that seems to be occurring in speculative fiction generally.

Finally I launched into backing up a claim that speculative fiction could be seen to at the centre of our culture – and rightly so… My basic argument went like this. It seems to me that sci-fi explores possible evolutions of our cultural envelope in a cognitive projection from where we are now, on into the future… Fantasy on the other hand explores the inner world of our psyche. I talked here a bit about Jung’s archetypes and his notion of the collective unconsciousness – the deployment of which makes a story about everyone, and no one in particular. I pointed out that, in some ways, these two categories are pointless as there is much fantasy that appears to be sci-fi (Star Wars being an example) and sci-fi that may appear to be fantasy (the Stone Dance being an example…), that what really mattered was that the reader lay at the heart of these categories… perhaps even squeezed between their boundary as a fluid mix of her/his internal and external worlds… her/his present between the future and the familial past… I then railed a little at the ’speculative’ ghetto… and pointed out the rather interesting fact that the only area in which fantasy/sci-fi is not a second class citizen is in children’s books: Harry Potter, Pullman, for example… is this not, perhaps, suggestive?: that in a world that is changing faster all the time, those who remain childlike longer – curious, learning, adapting – will cope the best… Thus it seemed to me that it is speculative fiction that best addresses the issues of the ‘now’ and can provide insight, guidance and, even, consolation…

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