Quick note: I had intended the Dreamcatcher blog to be a how-to, complete with lots of pictures (clove hitch isn’t exactly common knowledge), and cool links, but for some reason I couldn’t figure out how to properly link the photos. Apologies.
For the first time in a very, very long time, I had an incredible birthday.
Mom was available, which was huge. Everyone got along even if they disagreed. The family felt whole.
That being said, my parents bought me a present I have been drooling over for the past six months. Ever since a psychology-minded (read: manic-depressive, well-educated) friend of mine told me about the publication of Carl Jung’s Red Book (see? I’m getting better), I’ve pursued owning a copy. Given my love for psychology, philosophy, and spirituality, I figured it’d fit into the psychological niche of my bookshelf.
First off, this baby doesn’t fit in any bookshelf. It’s two feet long by a foot wide. It’s a monster beast. Second, it’s psychological because it comes from Jung’s head, but it’s about as psychological as the Bible: this is rife with vision, inspiration, and broad-sense cryptic.
“Cryptic” isn’t a term that’s readily understandable. It’s a language of symbol, and unique to the individual. To delve into the complications of symbol-set is to delve into the language of the core of a person. I guess, archetypal symbolism, from Jung’s lens. If I were to say, “I am a sand castle,” I would be speaking in a form of cryptic: a symbol attached to an aspect of me. It could mean I’m easily swept away, I am child-like in construction, I’m a terrible shelter, etc–or even something that has nothing to do with this. I am dreaming of–and pursuing–a childhood memory of a peaceful place. It’s like mental Tarot. A person who knows cryptic well enough, and understands the symbol-set of the individual well enough, doesn’t need Tarot cards to understand what the person is going through, what the person’s dealing with, etc.
Here I am, writing a blog about “Keeping it Simple,” and talking about something as deep and complicated as “cryptic.” Well, it’s not deep. It’s not complicated. Not for the self. It’s something all children understand. It’s where we first learn how to understand the world. A mother’s face, a soft bed, a baby chair at the table. It’s simple for the inner self–dare I say soul?–to understand, complex for the logic to follow. Science has no grasp with this. America tends to marginalize this understanding as Occult, hoodoo, or Alternative Medicine. A lot of people try to say they speak it, and swindle a lot of people out of honest money.
Anyway, Jung’s Red Book reads like the bible. “My soul is a child and the God that is inside my soul is also a child.” “On my fifth day in my tower a supernatural creature came to me. ‘What are you?’ I asked. ‘I am not a demon,’ it replied. ‘How dare you automatically assume I am a demon just because I come to you?'”
All cryptic. Brilliant, induced dreaming/cryptic. It’s filled with paintings Jung drew, reaching from Vikings to Egyptic scarab beetles and Hindu god-trees. And world-trees, and Christian symbolism, and all kinds of exploration. He travled very far to write such a book.
It’s incredible. I imagine whole classes will be taught on this book in college, and those classes are clearly cross-referencial. In fact, it could even go into Bible study due to its cryptic.
I also got some blood tests back: triglycerides are up 100%, LDL is low-to-normal, A1C is 8.2 (when I’ve only ever seen my Blood Sugar below 130), and the strange change is a trace enzyme in my liver: 82 instead of 75. The nurse, a snappy tired woman, said over the phone that it’s high, and I won’t get health insurance if it’s not brought back down. Then I told her to check my last two tests last year. It was 135 in January, 91 in March. It’s improving. She changed her short-yip tone to less “you don’t know anything” and more “oh you’re doing much better.” Yes. I know I am. But not well enough.
So I have a meeting with some GI. I’m so poor it’s scary, so this whole “unexpected hospital bills” idea is really gnawing on me. After coming down with Diabetes, I’ve spent a lot of time studying up on it–all the nurses call me a special case because they don’t know where the Diabetes came from–and I’ve learned all I could about it. Now I have to study up on my liver function. It’s really angering and a little frightening. I hope it’s not something bigger than I thought…