where are your wings?
“Perfect means finished and done. Perfection is a kind of death. Tolerate the chaos, tolerate whatever it is to overwhelm your life, because we are here not only to experience balance and even road, but we are here to see a thread that is calling us. We begin to see how we are supposed to perceive the world. Creation is always followed by destruction. You can’t be doing creation all the time, you have to stop and do stagnation.” ~ Michael Meade
My “European tour” is coming to an end. I am flying back to the US tomorrow morning. Each time I am about to leave Serbia I feel a certain way, a certain something… and it’s always different. In the past, there was mostly a relief of a kind and this knowing that I am going towards something that works better for me - not necessarily a better place, but rather something that works better for me, at least for the time being (I stay away from saying “something that IS better for me”, since things that feel comfortable and good are not necessarily better for our growth). This time, however, it feels a bit different. This post might be asking of me to share a few things about my experience for the past five weeks and the feelings and thoughts that accompany it.
There is a sense of lacking of a kind at the moment, of not getting enough of something - the land, the people, the smells, the foods, the friendly looks as well as the suspicious ones, the muddy water of the Danube, the boats and the beach, the bridges, the bars and cafes, the charming as well as super ugly streets and boulevards and buildings, the unimaginable amount of pharmacies and betting shops that emerged in past years, the unbearable heat and the summer storms… There is a sense of a life that stands still here and is waiting for me to jump on whenever I am ready and willing - even for a month or two. All this might still be unclear to me, but one thing - a sense of not enough time spent here… And it might not be about Serbia per se; it could be about this whole experience for the past five weeks, I don’t know…
During this trip I spent some time in Serbia but also in a few other places. Copenhagen was a wedding destination for a dear friend of mine and it was my first time in Denmark. It was a magical time, filled with seeing old friends from far away and meeting some new ones; time of exploring brand new places, walking the streets of history-rich areas, complaining about the weather and how it is too grey or too rainy or not warm enough and then being grateful for a beautiful sunny day on the canal, and enjoying sharing food and meaningful conversations with other dear humans. I have realized how comfortable I kept myself while living in sunny and warm places for the past two decades, and how much I might actually benefit from being challenged and placed out of my comfort zone from time to time. Weather can actually teach us humility - we cannot stop the storms, we cannot make the sun shine when we want it, and we cannot make it rain. It is powerful and beyond our control. It is also often unpredictable and transient - just like the inner life of us humans.
I am (still) certain and convinced that living in Serbia longterm (I do not ever dare say the word “forever”) isn’t an option for me, but I am also very uncertain that living in the US is. With a current political climate as well as its insanely increasing living expenses (as opposed to decreasing quality of life), I am personally unable to justify staying longterm in that country. At the same time, I have a love-hate relationship with Serbia, and in terms of the ways that this country operates (notice again, the political climate), as well as its collective culture and mindset - it is pretty unmanageable for me to visualize living here again. Yet, I feel like I might need to be - literally and figuratively - closer in order to explore that relationship.
It’s interesting, this relationship I have with my birth country and my family of origin, as well. Each time I come “home”, I get entangled into old complexes - both with the country and the society, as well as my family and close friends. It is known in psychoanalysis that, when complexes grab us, we are not aware of that and it somehow feels appropriate, as we are pulled into our own history in that moment. Jung’s psychology was initially called “complex” psychology. Complexes are these clusters of feelings, memories, thoughts, associations, and fantasies, around specific emotional themes, which are often operating outside of conscious awareness (which is why we are not aware when they have us) and always go along with strong emotions. It’s like being abducted - being outside of yourself, beside yourself - and continually triggered by things.
“… Complexes offer resistance to the conscious intentions, and come and go as they please. According to our best knowledge about them, complexes are psychic contents which are outside the control of the conscious mind. They have been split off from consciousness and lead a separate existence in the unconscious, being at all times ready to hinder or to reinforce the conscious intentions.” ~ Carl Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul
An American psychoanalyst and author, James Hollis, in his book “Why Good People Do Bad Things: Understanding Our Darker Selves” speaks about complexes and what we can do with them. When we are in a complex, Hollis says that we are “transiently psychotic”. Our personality is “altered… we are in service to a script - for the moment we are removed from a conscious reaction to this place”. The useful exploratory question here would be “What does the complex make me do and what does it prevent me from doing?” We can see through this exploration how much complexes affect our lives today, although their roots are far in our past. Psychoanalysis and therapy don’t make our complexes disappear - not at all. They may help us see what it is that we don’t know about the situation, about our history, and about the other. And this may help us understand them and integrate them into our whole being. What happens, in reality, is that we outgrow complexes, eventually.
So, whenever I am back to my birth place and surrounded by my parents and old friends, things get stirred up; old wounds resurface, history repeats itself, and strong (both positive and negative) emotions arise. It’s as if I am a child again, or simply removed from the present moment and placed into past situations. This time, however, I felt all of this a bit less than other times. And, even when I felt it, it was less intense, it lasted shorter, and I was able to see through it right away. Change is the very nature of things - it’s an essence of life - and we expect change, as nothing - absolutely nothing - is permanent. This applies to the situation in our own deep being, our relationships, in our life in general, as well as the whole world. It is in the constant state of fluidity.
This topic reminds me of another insight from this trip. I visited Berlin for the first time. The trip was initiated by a dear friend whom I met in Bali, and who recently relocated there. Ahhh Berlin… Absolutely enamored and amazed by this city. Such a perfect mix of East and West - a place of unmistakable contrasts. Berlin has a certain roughness about it and yet it can be so romantic. It has exceptionally beautiful nature, wondrous landmarks, vibrant social, cultural and art scene; it is very organized and structured, and yet this feeling of life going on in a relaxed manner.
Berlin was something else. To the point of me starting to fantasize and visualize moving there. Granted, I do this every time when I discover a place that mesmerizes me, but really, really, this place… I can imagine calling it one of my homes in the (near) future. There is a certain familiarity about it that is comforting and home-like - unsurprisingly, this feeling is strongest in the East Berlin. And then, there is a sense of novelty, excitement and desire to explore, embody and settle down. The whole Berlin experience, additionally, was colored by a conflict with my friend - again, complexes. For some, still not to me fully known reason, we simply trigger a lot of past traumas, insecurities, core beliefs and old wounds in each other. And we are not yet capable and conscious enough to see through them. Time will tell, though… just like time will tell when I will be relocating to Berlin - I just know I will.
“The condition of being good is that it should always be possible for you to be morally destroyed by something you couldn’t prevent. To be a good human being is to have a kind of openness to the world, an ability to trust uncertain things beyond your own control, that can lead you to be shattered in very extreme circumstances for which you were not to blame. That says something very important about the human condition of the ethical life: that it is based on a trust in the uncertain and on a willingness to be exposed; it’s based on being more like a plant than like a jewel, something rather fragile, but whose very particular beauty is inseparable from its fragility.” ~ Martha Nussbaum
The rest of the time I spent in Serbia was endearing, to say the least. As brief as it was, it still felt deep and meaningful for me. And it left me wanting and desiring for more. And that is different, this time. That is hopeful and sweet, and also frightening to the core. Throughout my life, I tied my happiness to every other place but Serbia. In my mind it is impossible for me to be happy here - even when I come to visit. It was always a chore, something that just needs to be done, and something that I myself, as an adult, just have to endure and get over with. I know, it is unfair and maybe hurtful to those who are here, who love me and are looking forward to see me and connect with me. And, still, I am being honest here, and sharing my deepest sensations with a hope it will provide a deeper understanding of who I am to those who care for me. It is a real conundrum to me - my relationship with this land and its people, and I wish to open it up and resolve it eventually.
“Life is a short pause between two great mysteries” ~ Carl Jung
Nevertheless, happiness is the byproduct of an individual in a given moment. It is never about what do we need to do, or where do we need to be, in order to be happy. There is no formula for happiness. It is about doing what is right for us. If I am doing everything that is right for me, then - from time to time - I get an overspill of this happiness emotion, but I also have to understand (and genuinely accept) that it is highly transient. Happiness is contextual, highly dependent on circumstances. What I found is that what has more significant role in my life and what offers sustainability in feelings of contentment (I prefer this word over the word “happiness”) is purpose, meaning, a sense of satisfaction. So, what brings these into your life, do you know? I know, for myself, that I have to figure out what makes sense to me in life and try to live that way. I need to figure out what society I want to be part of, which people I want to be surrounded by, what kind of livelihood I hope to have, and so on. I still need to answer to those reasonable expectations from society - but, always with the mind on what provides purpose, satisfaction, and calling in MY life.
I am sure that I am not speaking only for myself when I say that I often feel today that society keeps on letting me down, that I can’t ask (nor expect) anything of it, and that I can’t put my hopes on anything outside myself. And this approach can be such a burden and sorrow. As a result, some of us are retreating to a life in which we think only of our own satisfaction, and maybe the fulfillment of our retribution against society - I can relate to this very much, as I am sure some of you can, as well. I have retreated often in my life. I also searched for places where I don’t have to witness our society. But, as Martha Nussbaum wonderfully puts it, “the life that no longer trusts another human being and no longer forms ties to the political community is not a human life any longer.” Now, maybe instead of trying not to escalate conflict or to glamorize struggle, maybe we should care about things in a vulnerable and open way; in a way which makes it a possibility that tragedy and hurt (from another being or society itself) will happen to us.
I am aware that, with my transient and migratory lifestyle, I am preventing myself from being hurt. And, if I hold my commitments lightly, in such a way that I can always relieve myself from one or the other of them if they are in disagreement, then it doesn’t hurt me when things go badly. I get to protect myself. But, in the heart of hearts, I want to get hurt. I need to start getting hurt again. I want to live my life with a deep importance of my commitment: not to alter my desires to the way this world actually operates, but to try to seize from the world the good life that I desire. And, sometimes - or rather, often - that will lead me into a catastrophe of a kind.
“Life is a struggle, and it brings new challenges. It is not a disease. And it’s not a problem. It is a journey. It is about making that journey more interesting. Our life is full of opportunities for new experiences. We never arrive. As we look back, we have to ask if we showed up as ourselves. The way that is supported by something deep within, regardless if it was encouraged by others or was judged. None of us wants to be in that moment and realize that we did not show up for ourselves. Fear and lethargy are the enemies of life. Fear that tells us that we can’t do it, and that is too difficult. And lethargy that says don’t bother, just turn on the TV and relax.” ~ James Hollis, Why Good People Do Bad Things: Understanding Our Darker Selves
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A hui kaua (Until we meet again),
Marina
