Tentative steps toward the water line in the first few days.
New people, new language, new water; will I fit in, be good enough, stay afloat?
What foreign land have I arrived in, with names and words I’ve never heard before?
Am I already over my head? Oh, Oedipus, old friend, a familiar name and face!
Freud and Jung, names from conversations, and jokes on Frasier. I know so little.
And that is why I am here, as I state when asked that introductory question.
I am here to learn why I am here; here at Pacifica, here on Earth, here in Life.
Overwhelming and intimidating book titles sit on the desk:
Mysticism and Alchemy—have I come to the right place?
A book on the Discovery of the Unconscious—hasn’t it always been there?
And The Passion of the Western Mind—have I stepped back into business school?
And with each book, again, I realize how little I know.
Jump in! Swim around with the words, get the language; and feel as well as think.
Find those balancing points where the connections are made.
A mystic’s experience of Love, of the Divine, of the Unknown, of the Beyond.
I can relate!
A journey into the depths, to swim with Carl and the archetypes,
Long familiar and residing patiently in the dreamy dark spirals of mind!
A session on the couch with Sigmund; words and theories bob and weave around me,
Larger ideas than I can ingest and digest in this short course.
Next, time travel with Von Franz to Isis and Alchemy: Mystic science, immortal goals.
Then a leap to Sappho: a circling back to Love. And the question, what is love?
Is it real, or just a projection? I ask, along with more questions on the meaning of life.
How will I deal with the continuing changes I experience with each diving lesson?
How can I talk this new language with the folks back home?
Those who do not dive into the Unknown? Who do not address the Unconsious?
Or is this all a singular experience, ineffable, indescribably un-shareable?
How can I live this solo journey? Is this heroic or foolish? Real or fantasy?
Or is it simply Ambiguity? Neither either-or, but both-and.
I am afraid of a schism in the psyche – and of telling the wrong people what I see.
Afraid the veil will be rent, shredded to untenable filaments, and that I,
Who only lives partially in this world, will lose my functional place in it.
Will I be able to maintain a sense of what is Waking and Dreaming?
Known and Unknown? Conscious and Unconsicious?
Do I want to? Do I need to?
And will I make the journey awash in emotion
so I will cry with every third footstep,
And then laugh, as I skip and hop in

November 2008

A Whisper On My Pillow

You left a whisper on my pillow.
Breath, warm and shaped,
Round and full.
Your energy
Stirring and pregnant,
A globe floating near,
Brushing against my cheek
And kissing me awake
As if you were right there.
A blessed morning prayer.

October, 10, 2008


© Estelle M. Kelley 2012