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| 29-02-2004 |
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Excerpt from the Dark Lands |
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by Tumas Harp |
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"He who fights with monsters should be careful lest he therebybecome a monster. And if thou gaze long into an abyss, the abyss willalso gaze into thee." -- Friedrich Nietzsche, BEYOND GOOD AND EVIL |
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I am afraid of my mind. There is nothing I fear more. I am afraid of where it takes me. I fear the things it sees and the things it makes me do in that place of endless possibilities. There is no limit to its compassion and there is no limit to its cruelty and coldness. It drags me on to places I cannot bear to remember. Sometimes I look down at the putrid, black puddle beneath my naked feet and I see my mouth opened in a silent scream- reflected back at me; pleading, begging to go back to the safe crowd of conventional ideas huddled together around the dying embers of history and the stinking smoke of ignorance. |
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Although it is not altogether in the line of the introverted intuitive type to make of perception a moral problem, since a certain reinforcement of the rational functions is required for this, yet even a relatively slight differentiation of judgment would suffice to transfer intuitive perception from the purely �sthetic into the moral sphere. A variety of this type is thus produced which differs essentially from its �sthetic form, although none the less characteristic of the introverted intuitive. The moral problem comes into being when the intuitive tries to relate himself to his vision, when he is no longer satisfied with mere perception and its �sthetic shaping and estimation, but confronts the question: What does this mean for me and for the world? |
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But alas, I cannot stop. My feet seem to have found a life of their own. They no longer obey me. My curiosity has taken over all good sense but unlike the proverbial cat I have not the grace to skip over the traps that decorate the torturous pathways of the dark lands. I gasp and I cringe and I bite my lip every time I stumble into one of these craftily camouflaged bastard contraptions, but I CANNOT STOP! My lip bleeds. I can taste the warm salty blood- but I do not dare to scream lest some creature- some monster hears my cry and comes ambling to take me. That is what I fear most of all. Yes, like a child I am afraid of what monsters may lay waiting in the darkness. I am afraid that one day I will be ripped into pieces by one of these and my bits swallowed and digested in the beast. I am afraid that on one of these journeys all that will survive will be a puddle of my sane blood and pieces of my thin skin- and what will return is my own unfettered monster. |
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His judgment allows him to discern, though often only darkly, that he, as a man and as a totality, is in some way inter-related with his vision, that [p. 510] it is something which cannot just be perceived but which also would fain become the life of the subject. |
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Yet I cannot help but take these journeys. I don't know what happened to me and I cannot remember ever finding anything of vaguely remarkable value in my SEARCHING. I haven't yet found that elusive light that will reveal what it is that I have been stumbling into all my life. No, I lie it is nothing like that. Maybe the pain and terror have become a drug, an addiction. For I tell you I cannot stop making these journeys. I live in peace for a while sometimes for days, weeks even months but always always (God help me) like some tenacious, irresistible demon calling me |
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...pressing on quite heedless of human considerations, tearing down what has only just been established in his everlasting search for change, so the introverted intuitive moves from image to image, chasing after every possibility in the teeming womb of the unconscious |
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;I feel the yearning to explore those dark, dangerous places again. I crave those alien landscapes. I need to stumble across that eerie jungle in order to feel alive again. I speak about finding the light but to be honest I do not know what I search for. And perhaps that is the most scary thing of all -that I cannot consciously imagine what my subconscious has created for me in that darkness but I know, yes I know without doubt that it waits for me it stands on some lonely hilltop watching my stumbling and waiting patiently FOR my arrival! |
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The introverted intuitive's chief repression falls upon the sensation of the object. His unconscious is characterized by this fact. For we find in his unconscious a compensatory extraverted sensation function of an archaic character. The unconscious personality may, therefore, best be described as an extraverted sensation-type of a rather low and primitive order. Impulsiveness and unrestraint are the characters of this sensation, combined with an extraordinary dependence upon the sense impression. |
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Does it drool, a dribble of saliva and old blood on its chin as it waits for its victim? Or does it have a feast and music and happy things prepared for me. Does it wait to jump out from behind the fog of sadness shouting Surprise !!? Maybe it's more like a Medusa waiting to turn me into stone as soon as I set eyes on its terrible BEAUTY. Or is it an ugly thing that will turn me insane the moment I perceive its countenance? Who will remember the way it was? Who will keen for me if one day I cannot find my way back? God help me. I fear that until the day I die I will be searching that strange yet vaguely familiar dark land that is my own mind and soul. |
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If an artist, he reveals extraordinary, remote things in his art, which in iridescent profusion embrace both the significant and the banal, the lovely and the grotesque, the whimsical and the sublime. If not an artist, he is frequently an unappreciated genius, a great man 'gone wrong', a sort of wise simpleton, a figure for 'psychological' novels. |
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Image- "Hell" taken from the Divine Comedy of Dante |
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Blue sections were added on 05/05/2004 07:40 from Psychological Types by C.G. Jung |
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