the unbearable lightness of becoming
“It is the duty of one who goes his own way to inform society of what he finds on his voyage of discovery, be it cooling water for the thirsty or the sandy wastes of unfruitful error. Not the criticism of individual contemporaries will decide the truth or falsity of his discoveries but future generations. There are things that are not yet true today; perhaps we dare not find them true, but tomorrow they may be.
So, every man whose fate is to go his individual way, must proceed with hopefulness and watchfulness, ever conscious of his loneliness and its danger.” ~ Carl Jung
Let me first begin by saying that I have decided to publish my offerings on Mondays from now on - I would rather officially move it to the next day than be late every week (as it has been happening lately) and feel bad when it doesn’t come out on Sundays. So, there’s that…
Each day, when sun starts slowly setting - and during these winter days in SoCal that’s around 5.30pm - I feel a thing in my heart. Like a drop, a little crack, like something just broke, a bit of an ache, and some sorrow and sadness. It happens every day, without a mistake. With every death of the day my heart skips a beat. And then this sensation lingers. Depending on where I am standing emotionally in that moment, it’ll take me more or less down. At times it would have me walk Mala and go back home and get ready for bed even though it is only seven o’clock, sometimes it would motivate me to sit alone at home with a book and a cup of tea, and other times I would have to snap out of it and contact people, get a bit more social. It really depends… But, there are these special times when this achy feeling gets mixed with a deep sense of beauty and appreciation, gratitude, a sense of deep love and awe and wonder, and a kind of longing - unfortunately, there isn’t a word in English language to express it (at least not known to me) - in Serbian, there is though; it is the word “seta” - one of my favorite feelings, and one of my favorite words. A sense of deep longing and sadness, but colored with a sense of beauty and feeling of appreciation, too. At least this is my personal definition of it.
I remember very well Sundays in elementary school. Every single Sunday afternoon, the Sunday blues would kick in. The dread of getting ready for the upcoming school week. The dread of being responsible and of doing the things that must be done. The dread of getting up early and sleepwalking to school. The school, the teachers, the students, oh the dread… Sometimes I wouldn’t know at all why I feel it, but as soon as Sunday afternoon comes, my headspace would just shift into the angst. And this remained to this day, not as often but it is still with me from time to time.
Throughout the high school and college days I used to love nights. I used to love the stillness of the night, how my focus and concentration would get better, how calm and peaceful it would be around me at times when I needed to study and make up for not studying when I should have. Or, the beauty of the nights when I would go out and party and get completely out of myself… Getting in the club while it is still dark outside, and getting out of it only to witness the beginnings of the day, the sun rising (this didn't feel as good, it was more like a vampire running away from the daylight). The night was such a comfortable, natural habitat for me.
Then, something shifted, as it always does. And it’s not that my love, admiration and curiosity for darkness shifted - as a matter of fact my fascination and interest around darkness, shadow, death and dying just became more accentuated. It’s just that we change, we journey and transform, we go through the dark woods, we find our path, and keep on changing and becoming someone at least slightly different than a moment ago.
These days, I happen to love mornings. I marvel at them. Mornings, as all new beginnings, bring more clarity to me, daydreaming and ideas, light and warmth, so much wonder and inspiration… In a day, there is always hope, there is a certain continuity and repetition, but also a chance for change; there is always an opportunity for something new and different, something unexpected and fresh, a flow of a kind, or simply an invitation, to all of us, to try again. No matter what happened yesterday, no matter how badly I screwed up or how much life bruised me, it is a new day, and all is possible. And, as much as it sounds like a cliche, it is an absolute true! It is the only truth come think about it - that we have no idea what tomorrow will bring. If you need a proof for the concept of impermanence - that everything constantly changes and nothing, absolutely nothing, last forever - there you have it.
“People who think they know the reasons for everything are unaware of the obvious fact that the existence of the universe itself is one big unfathomable secret, and so is our human existence. You can be glad to have such a conviction [that God exists], like a man who is in a happy frame of mind, even if nobody else, not even himself, knows why. But certainly nobody could prove to him that he is unhappy, or that his feeling happy is an illusion.” ~ Carl Jung
But then, again, beauty (and an opportunity) can be found in everything, even in, often painful, complex human existence. The dark times, evenings, little deaths and endings, are here for a reason - for metabolizing, for digesting the impressions, and their absorption. Dark times are for things to be stirred up and then to resurface - for dreams, for unconscious, for images and stories… They are for deep reflection, for grief and sorrow, for hibernation and preparing for a transition. And then, the day time is when we analyze, observe, look at the things from a different, maybe brighter, perspective, take action or a simple step towards it… The day is for new beginnings and doing; for movement and taking in things. There is so much excitement and anticipation in knowing that anything is possible in any new given moment. As Scarlett O'Hara would say “After all, tomorrow is another day.”
I still love the darkness and I find it so beautiful and essential, as without the darkness there is no way the light can be seen. And, although I am very much still drawn to darkness, it takes me certain places and often they are scary, lonely, heavy, and I wonder where am I going to end up if I stay longer. So, I choose to balance it out with the light. And this helps.
”Death is indeed a fearful piece of brutality; there is no sense in pretending otherwise. It is brutal not only as a physical event, but far more so psychically: a human being is torn away from us, and what remains is the icy stillness of death. There no longer exists any hope of a relationship, for all the bridges have been smashed at one blow. Those who deserve a long life are cut off in the prime of their years, and good-for-nothings live to a ripe old age. This is a cruel reality which we have no right to sidestep. The actual experience of the cruelty and wantonness of death can so embitter us that we conclude there is no merciful God, no justice, and no kindness.
From another point of view, however, death appears as a joyful event. In the light of eternity, it is a wedding, a mysterium coniunctionis. The soul attains, as it were, its missing half, it achieves wholeness. On Greek sarcophagi the joyous element was represented by dancing girls, on Etruscan tombs by banquets. When the pious Cabbalist Rabbi Simon ben Jochai came to die, his friends said that he was celebrating his wedding. To this day it is the custom in many regions to hold picnic on the graves of All Soul’s Day. Such customs express the feeling that death is really a festive occasion.” ~ Carl Jung
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Stay safe. Marina
