“red sky at night, sailor’s delight
red sky in the morning, sailor’s warning”
…and that’s all i’ve got for this word today.
Free association :
- Im not feeling very delighted about anything today. Or y’know the last little forever.
- Turkish delight. Absolutely bloody disgusting.
- Angel delight… Also from what I remember (and my automatic ‘ew’ reaction since I was little), pretty damned gross.
- It seems if the type of food has to call itself “delight” it isn’t going to be very delightful. Go figure.
- After a pretty terrible beginning to my day (and its come back and continued into tonight) a mum and her little boy came into where I work today. The mum was wondering around, and the little boy, maybe about 3, kept shyly making eye contact with me and sussing me out. Then he strays behind a bookcase type thing, and starts hiding and then peeping out, first one side then the next, and back and forth again and again. I start tilting my head to either side with him too, pulling faces and acting shocked. He’s extremely cute, trying to peek at me without being seen, and then smiling and giggling at my silly expressions. I’m not sure it was quite delight, but it was close, he was very pleased that this random woman was joining in on his game of hide and seek (as his mum said) which more resembled peek-a-boo to me. And he made my day much better for the next couple of hours
I am not very allowing in terms of myself. Whilst I would allow other people to just try, give things a go, make mistakes, mess up, and that be okay, I don’t very often allow myself that same freedom.
I also don’t allow myself to cry, to be needy, to want, to be weak or upset. I don’t allow myself to just be however I am without hating myself for being that way. I judge myself massively, consider it weak, and disgust myself those times I can’t help it happening. Even though I would never feel like that about someone else.
concern (n): a dressed up word for anxiety
i went through a phase where i read a lot of jung, so this reminded me of his notion of the shadow (even though he kind of stole it from nietzsche, the bugger); that is, those dark, base unconscious desires within us. greed. lust. hatred. fury. envy. those parts that we either hide, or don’t even realize we have. those parts that are denied expression.
which always led me to wonder, where do those shadowy bits go?
my answer came, i think, via working with a therapist i saw for a while, who spoke about how our children reflect our shadows back to us. that when we struggle with an particular aspect of our offspring, we are likely coming face to face with those dark, repressed parts of ourselves. (this idea terrified me. both in thinking about what was passed to me, and what i am passing on to our daughter.) and indeed, many psychotherapists both before and since jung, like freud, for instance, examined the ways in which we deflect our shadow, deny its existence, and even project it onto others in order to avoid confronting it within ourselves.
heady, sleep-stealing stuff, that.
especially tonight, after a long weekend that felt endless and hard and sad. where i was exhausted and present, loving and impatient, absent and nurturing, all. was my shadow what made me want to throttle our daughter? was i projecting my shadow onto my wife, onto pocketbrit?
i hate the thought of the unconscious. it is terrifying and destabilizing. i don’t want to have a shadowy ocean inside. just reading that there are parts of me that i won’t ever know, that are buried in a deep darkness, makes me feel so sick and scared.
ugh. ugh. ugh.