Dealing With Myself

Just dealing with myself creates a beautiful blog.  I am so rich and so complicated.  Years of meditation allow each blog entry to seem like a journey of self-Awareness through a tunnel of self-Fact.  Sometimes I confront my dark secrets.  Shocked, I try to cover them with glaze so that the reader might not be burned.  The child I am protecting is Myself, but through myself I protect the World.  A first it seems too hard and not worth the effort, and you must call upon the power of the Tortoise to sustain Ourself.  For this, humble loyalty is required, but it is given only to a Few, who thereby reach the fertile soil beyond the land of Death.

I worked on this Book for 16 years.  My Acquaintance with Alchemy in 1930 took me away from it.  The beginning of the End came in 1928, when Wilhelm sent me the text of the “Golden Flower,” an alchemical Treatise.  There the Contents of this Book found their way into Actuality and I could no longer continue working on it. — C. G. Jung, Red Book, Epilogue

Admittedly I make no sense.


Seven on Saturday Night

I keep staring into the fire.  Out of tribute to my legions of imagined fans, I write another Blog entry.  I see thousands of your souls burning in a great pit of fire.  I am unclear as to whether my own soul sits among them.  This fire bounces around to each of us.  Somehow transferring energy between us we become immune.

Today is the day of Saturn, one of Seven named days.  Seven represents a basic structure of the unconscious Psyche.  The One divides into an Above and a Below.  The Above and the Below divide each into two more pieces, representing a total of seven.  Seven appears prominently in the Book of Genesis and of Revelation, for example.  It is the number of items a normal human can hold in their head at Once.  The masculine number is Three, the Advanced Feminine is represented by Four.  United, they represent a high level of Consciousness — Humanity’s Nature, channeled by her Will, as we see in the breath-taking view of a great City or Monument, for example.

I’m thinking about going to the “Land of Eire” in mid-September.


If I were in the Matrix I would want to consult the Oracle, the wise old woman who says just what you need to hear.  But in many ways that’s too easy.

In my life I find I must be a Self-starter.  There seems to be no one to consult, no one to defend.  A lump of flesh congealed and over time my Ego identified with that lump.  The punishing truth I carry around with me is the notion that the lump has no purpose, unless you take the word of people who say things like “God Loves You.”  I suppose God loves me.  I often wonder how hard the lives of people who say this really are.  I can admit that life is hard, but I can’t concede that whether God loves me or hates me is related to my purpose here.  That question is related to one’s ability to Self-Start.  I confess a burden of guilt around the notion of self-starting.  I think somewhere in my bad past I got the wrong idea about self-starting.  I associated it with being tough and “American”, that to defy all those around you and create your life from nothing was a virtue.  But I never felt that this was a virtue.  I thought that I should serve the greater whole, the greater matrix of life around me.  I haven’t found a successful way to merge the two ideas.

One must be a self-starter and also serve the society of which one is a part.  I type the Words on this Blog, they get sent out into the universe, and I suppose this is as close as I can get right now to self-starting.  My life has been plagued by the notion that I’m not really welcome in this world.  Psychologically it can easily be traced to the severe lack of any positive feminine figure in my first 20 years of life.  It is so devastating to confront the absolute causality of my sense of emptiness.  Anyone whose mother, or mother figure, rejects them will live a life of purposeless and emptiness.  It is an area in which I would like to arrive at a solution which involves my Free Will.  I would like to be able to Choose not to feel this darkness.  I see so many people with loving parents who feel supported and happy.  I, however am the result of a causality in which I feel total emptiness on account of the fact that my parents are not loving.  There is no choice.  Those with loving parents feel loved.  Those with unloving parents feel abandoned.  Free Will is not involved, except perhaps in some realm which precedes the beginnings of this life, like I must account for the sins of some part of my soul from a previous life.  This thought goes contrary to the standard Christian worldview, which view relies on Free Will, thus sanctioning individual human rights and much of our society by extension.

I long for the feeling that my existence matters to something.  I certainly work hard to contain and preserve my existence.  This is harder than most believe, for many fall victim to drugs, cults, false beliefs, which indicates failure to preserve their individual existence.  But I have hit on something here…  I am recognizing the pitfalls which I have not yet succumbed to, recognizing that many, even most people, fall into some kind of collective involvement because they cannot contain their individual self, and understand their individual life as meaningful.  The challenge is for me to be able to face this screen, knowing that it is all I have, resist the thought that one voice must drown in the millions of other voices occupying the same medium, and write as my individual self even though I suffer.

Perhaps that I suffer publicly provides some solace for the reader, perhaps it just sends them into worse despair.  Nonetheless, the reading of others’ writings generates community.  It removes isolation.

I must confront my idea of what it means to be a self-starter.  I must imagine the existence of a community which needs me.  It will come into being because I want it to.

Where I am in my life

I seem to have mastered the art of confronting Dark things.  Nonetheless, I cannot live.  Most of the darkness is too Dark for the people I associate with; therefore the courage involved in confronting it becomes meaningless to them.  So long as I confront the darkest darknesses I can’t rely on people to appreciate the difficulty of these tasks.  The task of extracting myself then falls to the only thing which can understand my condition, which is myself.  To deny this would be to deceive the reader.  I should say that I am called Salamander D not because I am always immune to the fires of emptiness and meaninglessness, but because I aspire to be.  I want to be the unnamed fourth man in the furnace of Nebuchadnezzar, because I realize how impossible life is in the times we live, and I want it to be possible to live without be burned.  But God can protect certain people precisely because they know that he does not heed their Will, that His will is different from their Will.  But even those who know the difference are cast into the furnace mercilessly from time to time.

I thought about this for a few seconds.  I suppose the members of that special group go onto a pile of burnt and torn bodies somewhere in the vast reaches of heaven.  But what happens to them then I can’t discern, because they are forced to be now in the presence of God who has given them no reason to enjoy His presence.  They can only see him as some kind of Divine Master of Torture.  Those bodies must of necessity find their way back to the Earth where at least there was some inkling of reason and happiness.  Being in the presence of God is no reward for those Thinking people who have not been given a reason to feel Love for Him.  So they find their way back to the only happiness they have ever known, small happiness though it may have been.  If this is true, then I think I might be one of those who have come back.

Salamander D is clearly no ordinary Beast-Totally-Immune-to-the-Heat-of-the-Hottest-Flames.  He’s also a man returned from Heaven where God refused to allow him the kind of Justice demanded by his own God-given moral conscience.

This kind of theology is first espoused by Carl Jung in his Answer to Job.  In the next few hundred years a theology something like this will replace Christianity as the dominant religion in the the Western world.

The Zach Channel

Maybe the person who makes a blog should think of it as his channel.  There are people who want to watch the channel, and knowing that people want to watch will motivate more production.  The same way a rock star or an actor gets motivated by their audience.  It’s not the author, rather it’s the author’s Blog, and it’s worth watching like a good TV show.  The author knows that people enjoy what’s produced, so he writes more for the high of the performance.

Oh my! Fleeting Thoughts!

I think that the thrust of my previous essay on fleeting thoughts was supposed to be that I had decided to try to congeal and plaster more thoughts onto the screen, but I diverted into discussing the dangers of posting who you are for all eternity.  Indeed the original thought for which I had started the post suffered the same descent into the Depths which I talked about.

I have many more such thoughts.  I believe that my fear of the internet is legitimate, but it’s not a sufficient reason to withhold a large amount of what I think.  Perhaps it is necessary for a person to pass a time period when they are confronting themselves when it is decidedly bad to post everything they think, since much of it could be dangerous.  But as one gets more aware of one’s situation, the worry that something disastrous will occur lessens, and the preferred behavior is that they publish as much content as possible.

As Salamander D has essentially no credentials which establish him in the American society he lives in, he must work extra hard to give others an impression of who he is.  In order to do this he must use a medium of expression.  In this case that medium is the Blog, which wanders through the nameless streets of the internet until it reaches all corners of the globe.  The nature of the medium in question is that intimacy between a few individuals is ruled out, since the content is universally available.  The Blog settles over the Earth like a fleet of alien UFOs, like a million bacteria distributed through the soil.  There is no gradual distribution as with the Newspapers of old.  The life of the Blog consists of the information entered by the creator, the responses in the mind and the reactions of each reader, and the reactions of the creator to the reactions of the readers.  The minds of all the players are affected as in a hive.  The speed with which the electricity carries the message changes the personal, private nature of previous literature into something more like a magnetic field, where simultaneous reactions are the norm, as it is in a sports arena.  It’s that weird merger between intensely private thought and the response pattern of a sports arena as large as the whole world which is alien to all societies prior to ours.

The Blog is a medium which mixes the personal and the public in a way we hardly have a metaphor for.  It’s like a sports arena, where every gets a chance to stand on his soapbox, his Blog, and everyone can hear them.

Who is speaking, and with what authority?

Who is listening… and with what authority?