My Inner Jung

About two months ago, on this here blog, I described a cave with wet walls, the sound of dripping water, and a clear, crystalline, internally lit lake in the middle of it.  I described this cave as my “happy place,” the wet walls being “my cocoon, my safety zone” and me being the lake.

When I first envisioned my physical self in this cave, I was either by the side of the lake, head in knees, naked as a nymph (in an ideal form, of course) or swimming calmly and gracefully at the surface of the water. Now, frequently, I see myself dancing savagely along the cave walls, donned in stereotypical cave woman garb, a torch with its barbarian flame burning in my hand. Although both still alone and both still revering the lake, this wild dancer (who scares me just a little) and this pensive nymph (who seems grounded but somewhat boring) seem so very, very different yet they are both so very, very me.

Lately, I’ve felt a little disjointed, a little fragmented, a little Sybil perhaps, and am looking at myself a bit inquisitively.  I am, as I suppose we all are, a mishmash of personalities and parts and people held together by one core self.  My trouble as of late has been a difficulty tapping into the core me while still honoring the, I don’t know, peripheral me’s.

Who am I really?  What do I need? How do I integrate these lovely, frightening, honest pieces of my being into one solid self?

Okay, get prepared. I am now going to try and sound all smart and well rounded by getting all Jungian on your ass. (Humor me my faux intellect!)

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