Jan Miklaszewicz's Blog, page 7
October 29, 2022
LOOKING THROUGH THE LENS THE OTHER WAY
Recently, I listened again to a New Dimensions Radio interview with James Hillman, the late American psychologist, and Michael Ventura, with whom he had collaborated on a book about certain shortcomings in psychotherapy. The former raised a point that I find really interesting.
Relating the story of a famous bullfighter who had been particularly meek as a child, Hillman said that such a career choice would typically be viewed as a form of compensation. But what if the boy had known all along, albeit unconsciously, that he would one day be facing raging bulls under the gaze of a frenzied crowd? Wouldn’t that go some way towards explaining his childhood behaviour?
Of course, this is only an idea, a matter of perceiving things, and it can't be proven or falsified. But I’d contest that our perception of the world, of our lives, is of paramount importance. One person’s suffering is another’s striving, your terrorist is my freedom fighter, the delightful rain that feeds your garden is the bloody rain that keeps me from drying my laundry.
I find Hillman’s suggestion quite liberating, since instead of looking at our present state as the cumulative result of past events, we can see it as a necessary stage in the process of becoming. In this way, those wounds and shamings received and inflicted, those regrettable choices and actions, those bones of contention, lose a good deal of their sting. They can be seen as reasonable, perhaps even rational, within the context of eventual blossoming.
For me, this isn’t necessarily a case of letting myself or others off the hook for what happened in the past. And neither is it about accepting my fate, whatever it may be, and just going through life on autopilot. But it definitely offers a new perspective and might help to take the bitterness out of certain things that have bothered us for years. And for that, I believe, Mr Hillman, deserves a round of applause.
Relating the story of a famous bullfighter who had been particularly meek as a child, Hillman said that such a career choice would typically be viewed as a form of compensation. But what if the boy had known all along, albeit unconsciously, that he would one day be facing raging bulls under the gaze of a frenzied crowd? Wouldn’t that go some way towards explaining his childhood behaviour?
Of course, this is only an idea, a matter of perceiving things, and it can't be proven or falsified. But I’d contest that our perception of the world, of our lives, is of paramount importance. One person’s suffering is another’s striving, your terrorist is my freedom fighter, the delightful rain that feeds your garden is the bloody rain that keeps me from drying my laundry.
I find Hillman’s suggestion quite liberating, since instead of looking at our present state as the cumulative result of past events, we can see it as a necessary stage in the process of becoming. In this way, those wounds and shamings received and inflicted, those regrettable choices and actions, those bones of contention, lose a good deal of their sting. They can be seen as reasonable, perhaps even rational, within the context of eventual blossoming.
For me, this isn’t necessarily a case of letting myself or others off the hook for what happened in the past. And neither is it about accepting my fate, whatever it may be, and just going through life on autopilot. But it definitely offers a new perspective and might help to take the bitterness out of certain things that have bothered us for years. And for that, I believe, Mr Hillman, deserves a round of applause.
October 25, 2022
FANCY THAT
Near the end of days Seraphim and Cherubim become baby names.
THE FISHER KING: A MYTH FOR MODERN MAN
Back in my teens, I watched a Terry Gilliam film called The Fisher King, which takes its name from an Arthurian legend. No one else in my circle seemed to pay it much attention, but it got hold of me and wouldn’t let me go. Quite aside from the quality of the acting – Robin Williams, Jeff Bridges, a Tom Waits cameo – there was something so compelling about the story, the themes of despair and loss, compassion and redemption.
So you can imagine my delight when, all these years later, I found a book called The Fisher King and the Handless Maiden by the late Jungian analyst Robert A. Johnson. The first half relates the tale of the Fisher King to a crisis faced by many men, that of a wound or weakness in the feeling function of the psyche. But before we go any further, I’ll do my best to summarise the legend. Please bear in mind that there have been many versions over the years, and mine is pretty basic to say the least.
While out roaming, a future guardian of the Holy Grail makes an error of judgment and is terribly wounded in the groin. He spends the rest of his days in agony, the ailing ruler of an ailing kingdom, too sick to partake of life’s joys but unable to die. The only thing that brings him any relief is fishing in the nearby lake, plus the prophecy that one day a fool will come to the castle and ask the question that will cure his wound.
Meanwhile, the naive young Parsifal has finally escaped his mother’s apron strings and become a knight-errant. To the bemusement of the other knights, he has won the favour of King Arthur and has been trained in the ways of chivalry. On his travels, he encounters the Fisher King at the lake and asks if there are any lodgings in the area. He is given directions to the castle, where he dines with the residents, including the afflicted king.
During the meal, a strange procession takes place, and everyone present, except for Parsifal and the Fisher King, receives the blessing of the Grail’s miraculous powers. Despite his curiosity, and despite knowing exactly what question he is supposed to ask, Parsifal remains mute. It appears that his mother’s warning not to ask too many questions has overridden the instructions of his tutor.
The next morning, Parsifal leaves the castle and, during a conversation with a young woman he meets on the road, realises the gravity of his mistake. But he cannot find his way back and is left to continue his roaming. And all the while that he’s vanquishing foes and rescuing maidens, the Fisher King suffers from the agony of his wound.
It is many years before Parsifal finds himself back in the area. He’s somewhat jaded now, a little wiser, and when the opportunity presents itself again, he doesn’t fail. He encounters an old hermit who gives him directions to the castle, where again he dines and bears witness to the procession. Only this time, Parsifal asks, “Whom does the grail serve?” And with these words, the Fisher King is finally healed.
Okay, so there’s quite a bit to unpack here. That doesn’t mean we’re launching into a major analysis – though the book does an amazing job – but there are several points I think are worth highlighting.
The first is that both the Fisher King and Parsifal are, to me at least, one and the same. The former suffers a physical wound for his actions (in some versions, fighting a pagan knight, in others, tasting the body of Christ in the form of a salmon he finds roasting on someone’s campfire), while the latter suffers a psychological wound. His lack of awareness during his first visit to the castle (the arena of the unconscious) leaves him full of regret and unable to find his way back inside.
By extension, many of us are Fisher Kings and Parsifals. Our early forays into adulthood are fraught with danger, and when we overreach or find ourselves out of our depth, we are often humiliated. Our feeling function, the creative, generative aspect of the psyche, is injured, and thus we become rigid where once we were supple and yielding. How many of us have everything we need in the material sense but don’t know how to enjoy it? How many of us are prone to moodiness and spasms of ill humour? And how many of us find only disdain when the appropriate reaction ought to be warmth or compassion?
The second point is that the Fisher King finds some relief in fishing. Most men I know, myself included, don’t worry too much about actually catching anything. If we go with a friend, it’s for some form of bonding, and if we go by ourselves, it’s for a bit of peace and quiet and time to think. It should be fairly clear, then, that the only relief for a wound to the feeling function is some form of inner work, be it sitting out in nature somewhere, doing yoga, or indulging in a spot of active imagination. Anything less, anything hedonistic or retail-based, just isn’t going to cut it. After all, Parsifal’s successes in the outer world do little to assuage his tacit sense of failure.
And finally, we have the resolution of the tale. We see that midlife brings a second chance to enter the castle of the unconscious, this time with a greater level of awareness. And if the answer to Parsifal’s question is “The Grail serves the Grail King” – described by Johnson as an allusion to the transcendent – surely our own questions and answers ought to be cut from a similar cloth.
So you can imagine my delight when, all these years later, I found a book called The Fisher King and the Handless Maiden by the late Jungian analyst Robert A. Johnson. The first half relates the tale of the Fisher King to a crisis faced by many men, that of a wound or weakness in the feeling function of the psyche. But before we go any further, I’ll do my best to summarise the legend. Please bear in mind that there have been many versions over the years, and mine is pretty basic to say the least.
While out roaming, a future guardian of the Holy Grail makes an error of judgment and is terribly wounded in the groin. He spends the rest of his days in agony, the ailing ruler of an ailing kingdom, too sick to partake of life’s joys but unable to die. The only thing that brings him any relief is fishing in the nearby lake, plus the prophecy that one day a fool will come to the castle and ask the question that will cure his wound.
Meanwhile, the naive young Parsifal has finally escaped his mother’s apron strings and become a knight-errant. To the bemusement of the other knights, he has won the favour of King Arthur and has been trained in the ways of chivalry. On his travels, he encounters the Fisher King at the lake and asks if there are any lodgings in the area. He is given directions to the castle, where he dines with the residents, including the afflicted king.
During the meal, a strange procession takes place, and everyone present, except for Parsifal and the Fisher King, receives the blessing of the Grail’s miraculous powers. Despite his curiosity, and despite knowing exactly what question he is supposed to ask, Parsifal remains mute. It appears that his mother’s warning not to ask too many questions has overridden the instructions of his tutor.
The next morning, Parsifal leaves the castle and, during a conversation with a young woman he meets on the road, realises the gravity of his mistake. But he cannot find his way back and is left to continue his roaming. And all the while that he’s vanquishing foes and rescuing maidens, the Fisher King suffers from the agony of his wound.
It is many years before Parsifal finds himself back in the area. He’s somewhat jaded now, a little wiser, and when the opportunity presents itself again, he doesn’t fail. He encounters an old hermit who gives him directions to the castle, where again he dines and bears witness to the procession. Only this time, Parsifal asks, “Whom does the grail serve?” And with these words, the Fisher King is finally healed.
Okay, so there’s quite a bit to unpack here. That doesn’t mean we’re launching into a major analysis – though the book does an amazing job – but there are several points I think are worth highlighting.
The first is that both the Fisher King and Parsifal are, to me at least, one and the same. The former suffers a physical wound for his actions (in some versions, fighting a pagan knight, in others, tasting the body of Christ in the form of a salmon he finds roasting on someone’s campfire), while the latter suffers a psychological wound. His lack of awareness during his first visit to the castle (the arena of the unconscious) leaves him full of regret and unable to find his way back inside.
By extension, many of us are Fisher Kings and Parsifals. Our early forays into adulthood are fraught with danger, and when we overreach or find ourselves out of our depth, we are often humiliated. Our feeling function, the creative, generative aspect of the psyche, is injured, and thus we become rigid where once we were supple and yielding. How many of us have everything we need in the material sense but don’t know how to enjoy it? How many of us are prone to moodiness and spasms of ill humour? And how many of us find only disdain when the appropriate reaction ought to be warmth or compassion?
The second point is that the Fisher King finds some relief in fishing. Most men I know, myself included, don’t worry too much about actually catching anything. If we go with a friend, it’s for some form of bonding, and if we go by ourselves, it’s for a bit of peace and quiet and time to think. It should be fairly clear, then, that the only relief for a wound to the feeling function is some form of inner work, be it sitting out in nature somewhere, doing yoga, or indulging in a spot of active imagination. Anything less, anything hedonistic or retail-based, just isn’t going to cut it. After all, Parsifal’s successes in the outer world do little to assuage his tacit sense of failure.
And finally, we have the resolution of the tale. We see that midlife brings a second chance to enter the castle of the unconscious, this time with a greater level of awareness. And if the answer to Parsifal’s question is “The Grail serves the Grail King” – described by Johnson as an allusion to the transcendent – surely our own questions and answers ought to be cut from a similar cloth.
October 19, 2022
LURKING
The kids won’t go near the back room, and I can’t say I blame them. Something’s lurking there, invisible to the naked eye but all too clear to the inner one. It’s jellyfish white and has shiny black eyes and needle-like teeth, and its mouth is stretched in a permanent scream. It watches and it follows, sliding up fast behind you as though on rails, making your hackles rise, sizing you up, formulating some unholy plan.
October 16, 2022
THE LAW OF ATTRACTION: ARE WE MAKING THINGS WORSE FOR OURSELVES?
A lot is made these days of positive thinking and the so-called ‘law of attraction’. Indeed, a whole industry appears to have sprung up around it, with an avalanche of books, seminars, and self-help gurus. But is it really all it’s cracked up to be?
First things first then, let’s look at a similar law that was doing the rounds before this one hit the scene. Described by Alan Watts as the ‘backwards law’, it states that whatever we don’t want, we’re going to get a whole lot more of. The idea behind this is that the sheer act of wanting something implies a lack of it–a lack we can’t help but feel and express, whether we realise it or not.
So this runs pretty much parallel to the law of attraction, which tells us we can get whatever we want by imagining we already have it. Through certain visualisation and affirmation techniques–which to my mind treat the unconscious like some kind of dupe–we get ourselves into a state of positive and grateful expectation. In effect, we knock on the door of our desires and wait, all the while believing we’re already inside or on the verge of being admitted.
This requires, for me at least, the same sort of mental gymnastics as trying not to picture an elephant. For every one of us who can manage it, I suspect there are thousands more who can’t. And we aren’t just asked to ignore our material situation–the threadbare savings account, the leaking roof–but also to ‘fake it until we make it’ as part of hitting and maintaining a certain ‘vibrational frequency’.
And it’s this requirement to remain positive, to turn a blind eye to anything contradictory, that truly concerns me. The psychic energy required for this must be counterbalanced somehow, and I’ve seen the most upbeat people inflict random misery upon themselves and those around them. There’s also a danger of seeming callous or out of touch when refusing to acknowledge or engage with the ills of the world. And what about victim blaming? Do the poor and sick really deserve our pity when they could improve their lot simply by overcoming that negative mindset?
Another issue of concern is that the law of attraction movement seems geared so strongly towards the hedonistic. Frequent talk of wealth and abundance, promotional videos filled with images of cruise ships, luxurious villas, and sports cars–it all strikes me as out of kilter with the air of spirituality implied by the ‘ancient wisdom’ and ‘eternal secrets’ that supposedly underpin this law. Also, I doubt there’s enough physical matter on the planet–we’re talking ore, oil, and timber on a vast scale here–for every one of us to manifest what is ‘rightfully’ ours.
Of course, my arguments do suffer from at least a touch of the old straw man. There are surely plenty of benefits to adopting a more positive outlook on life, and despite not liking the labelling–it certainly isn’t a law in the commonly accepted sense–I won’t deny that in certain ways we do attract or manifest our desires (and our fears, unfortunately). And as for my thoughts on hedonism, no doubt there are plenty of people out there who are seeking or offering something much more meaningful.
Ultimately though, I’ll wager that the law of attraction is mostly used in the hope of accruing material wealth. And quite aside from the maxim that money can’t buy happiness, I fear we might actually be making things worse for ourselves. After all, if there’s any truth to Alan Watts’s backwards law, these feverish affirmations only serve to intensify our sense of lack. So forgive me if I go and find something else to do with my time instead.
First things first then, let’s look at a similar law that was doing the rounds before this one hit the scene. Described by Alan Watts as the ‘backwards law’, it states that whatever we don’t want, we’re going to get a whole lot more of. The idea behind this is that the sheer act of wanting something implies a lack of it–a lack we can’t help but feel and express, whether we realise it or not.
So this runs pretty much parallel to the law of attraction, which tells us we can get whatever we want by imagining we already have it. Through certain visualisation and affirmation techniques–which to my mind treat the unconscious like some kind of dupe–we get ourselves into a state of positive and grateful expectation. In effect, we knock on the door of our desires and wait, all the while believing we’re already inside or on the verge of being admitted.
This requires, for me at least, the same sort of mental gymnastics as trying not to picture an elephant. For every one of us who can manage it, I suspect there are thousands more who can’t. And we aren’t just asked to ignore our material situation–the threadbare savings account, the leaking roof–but also to ‘fake it until we make it’ as part of hitting and maintaining a certain ‘vibrational frequency’.
And it’s this requirement to remain positive, to turn a blind eye to anything contradictory, that truly concerns me. The psychic energy required for this must be counterbalanced somehow, and I’ve seen the most upbeat people inflict random misery upon themselves and those around them. There’s also a danger of seeming callous or out of touch when refusing to acknowledge or engage with the ills of the world. And what about victim blaming? Do the poor and sick really deserve our pity when they could improve their lot simply by overcoming that negative mindset?
Another issue of concern is that the law of attraction movement seems geared so strongly towards the hedonistic. Frequent talk of wealth and abundance, promotional videos filled with images of cruise ships, luxurious villas, and sports cars–it all strikes me as out of kilter with the air of spirituality implied by the ‘ancient wisdom’ and ‘eternal secrets’ that supposedly underpin this law. Also, I doubt there’s enough physical matter on the planet–we’re talking ore, oil, and timber on a vast scale here–for every one of us to manifest what is ‘rightfully’ ours.
Of course, my arguments do suffer from at least a touch of the old straw man. There are surely plenty of benefits to adopting a more positive outlook on life, and despite not liking the labelling–it certainly isn’t a law in the commonly accepted sense–I won’t deny that in certain ways we do attract or manifest our desires (and our fears, unfortunately). And as for my thoughts on hedonism, no doubt there are plenty of people out there who are seeking or offering something much more meaningful.
Ultimately though, I’ll wager that the law of attraction is mostly used in the hope of accruing material wealth. And quite aside from the maxim that money can’t buy happiness, I fear we might actually be making things worse for ourselves. After all, if there’s any truth to Alan Watts’s backwards law, these feverish affirmations only serve to intensify our sense of lack. So forgive me if I go and find something else to do with my time instead.
October 11, 2022
OLD JAVA
There was once a time of merchant ships and Sufi saints, of tobacco and spices and prayer beads clacking in the night, of jasmine buds and handmade cloth, of torches flickering and puppet shadows dancing on palace screens, of Javan tigers and water buffalo, of kapok trees and cajeput oil, of fiery mountains and forest spirits and ritual.
And what of now? Selfie sticks, celebrity clerics, palm oil giants. Something catches in my throat, and I don’t know whether it’s sadness or contempt. I close my eyes and resume the fantasy.
And what of now? Selfie sticks, celebrity clerics, palm oil giants. Something catches in my throat, and I don’t know whether it’s sadness or contempt. I close my eyes and resume the fantasy.
October 6, 2022
ENTROPY (EVERYTHING GOES TO RAT SHIT IN THE END)
There’s a concept in thermodynamics called ‘entropy’, which is more or less a measure of disorder. In terms far too scientific for me to grasp, entropy explains why and how everything under the sun tends to fall apart in the long run.
Now, regardless of the credentials of my former science teachers – who were variously odd, ancient, evil, or a combination thereof – I don’t mind taking the blame for my ignorance of entropy as a scientific theory. Physics isn’t for everyone after all, and I was hardly a model student. But what does concern me is my ignorance of the more practical implications of entropy.
As the title of this post so succinctly puts it, everything goes to rat shit in the end, from plants and animals to man-made systems and structures. Even the hardiest among us succumb to old age, the most advanced feats of engineering eventually fail, and the strongest fortresses crumble into ruins. This is nothing new and it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.
But on a smaller, more quotidian scale, I definitely have some sort of entropy blindspot. Whether it’s losing my cool when the air conditioner needs another new part or stressing out when my daughters ransack the room I just tidied, I routinely overlook the fact that these things require ongoing commitment.
So far so obvious, perhaps, but as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, there’s quite a difference between knowing a thing and knowing a thing. Yes, coughing up for spare parts is a bit of a pain, but it’s unavoidable unless you want to go back to basics. Likewise, keeping a household clean and tidy is a laborious, unglamorous task, but again it’s unavoidable unless you want to live in a shit hole.
And most importantly of all, any relationship, including that with our own unconscious, requires some form of maintenance work. If we’ve any wisdom in us, we tend to our nearest and dearest as we might tend to a garden, striving for that delicate balance between pruning it into sterility and letting it run too wild.
Either way, the great unknown is snapping at our heels. It is taken as a natural law that entropy always increases, that chaos is the default setting, and I feel we should take this seriously. Whatever we want, whatever we truly appreciate, is going to come at a premium, be it vigilance, expenditure, or some other form of outlay.
And that’s pretty much all I’ve got on entropy. On the grand stage, we might say life is a constant battle against disintegration, a game in which we take flight for as long as we can before gravity pulls us back to mother earth. And on a lesser stage, we might say there’s no such thing as a free lunch. I’m not sure which I prefer, if any, but right now lunch sounds like an excellent idea.
Now, regardless of the credentials of my former science teachers – who were variously odd, ancient, evil, or a combination thereof – I don’t mind taking the blame for my ignorance of entropy as a scientific theory. Physics isn’t for everyone after all, and I was hardly a model student. But what does concern me is my ignorance of the more practical implications of entropy.
As the title of this post so succinctly puts it, everything goes to rat shit in the end, from plants and animals to man-made systems and structures. Even the hardiest among us succumb to old age, the most advanced feats of engineering eventually fail, and the strongest fortresses crumble into ruins. This is nothing new and it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone.
But on a smaller, more quotidian scale, I definitely have some sort of entropy blindspot. Whether it’s losing my cool when the air conditioner needs another new part or stressing out when my daughters ransack the room I just tidied, I routinely overlook the fact that these things require ongoing commitment.
So far so obvious, perhaps, but as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, there’s quite a difference between knowing a thing and knowing a thing. Yes, coughing up for spare parts is a bit of a pain, but it’s unavoidable unless you want to go back to basics. Likewise, keeping a household clean and tidy is a laborious, unglamorous task, but again it’s unavoidable unless you want to live in a shit hole.
And most importantly of all, any relationship, including that with our own unconscious, requires some form of maintenance work. If we’ve any wisdom in us, we tend to our nearest and dearest as we might tend to a garden, striving for that delicate balance between pruning it into sterility and letting it run too wild.
Either way, the great unknown is snapping at our heels. It is taken as a natural law that entropy always increases, that chaos is the default setting, and I feel we should take this seriously. Whatever we want, whatever we truly appreciate, is going to come at a premium, be it vigilance, expenditure, or some other form of outlay.
And that’s pretty much all I’ve got on entropy. On the grand stage, we might say life is a constant battle against disintegration, a game in which we take flight for as long as we can before gravity pulls us back to mother earth. And on a lesser stage, we might say there’s no such thing as a free lunch. I’m not sure which I prefer, if any, but right now lunch sounds like an excellent idea.
October 2, 2022
BOOK REVIEW - THE MEMORIES OF ESKAR WILDE
The Memories Of Eskar Wilde by E.H. WildeMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
This wonderful book has it all: vivid characters (including a surprisingly articulate cat), beautifully depicted settings, and a plot that really pulls you in as the tale unfolds. I found myself completely absorbed in Eskar’s world, the intrigue and drama of Paris, the warmth and community of Provence, the fine wining and dining, the complex, relatable relationships, and of course, the delightful unravelling of the central mystery. I would be first in line to read another book by this author.
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September 30, 2022
BOOK REVIEW - THE BOOK OF FABLES
The Book Of Fables: Reveries, Myths & Wanderings by C.S. HughesMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Arcane and otherworldly, this collection is written with a clear love of language. The prose is dense and richly poetic, imbuing each story with a great deal of atmosphere. My current favourites are ‘Mothergrumble’, which is somehow both mythical and apocalyptic, and the muted, unsettling ‘Carpe Diem’. Highly recommended.
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September 29, 2022
BOOK REVIEW - BLOOD HONEY
Blood Honey by Poppy KovalMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
Thoroughly enjoyed this debut novel. The plotting is solid and the premise is original, but most impressive of all are the characters. They're so well drawn, Mims and Teddy in particular (not to mention the villain), and the author does a great job exploring their behaviours and motivations, black, white, and grey. As a bonus, I also learned a fair bit about New York City, the less glamorous side of journalism, and, of course, honey. Highly recommended.
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