Jungian theories are often described as abstract concepts. Heavy books like Man And His Symbols might read as a little bit too much for some audiences, especially when considering dreams, symbols, and 'personas.' To a poet like me, however—someone who has pondered a thousand scenarios for every topic since childhood—Jung’s words feel like freedom.
This freedom has been slow-building over decades and has reunited me with the little-girl-me, the one I distinctly remember living in Virginia Beach; she was just three years old.
That little girl knew without a doubt she'd be an artist. That little girl's wide-eyed wonder loved outdoors, loved frogs, loved Bugs Bunny, loved story time with Mum. Perhaps, most importantly, that little girl loved herself: her reflection, her blonde curly hair, her hazel eyes, her own presence as it were before human conditioning.
My first recollection of human conditioning was when I was nine. I was a gymnast. I also enjoyed writing short stories.
Gymnastics was supposed to be my body's artful expression of movement, demonstrating my love for dance with a skilled discipline for layouts. Unfortunately, grueling training and a strict coach stripped me of my self-confidence, and the freedom of flying through the air became a sore spot for overly critical judgment.
I did not proceed with gymnastics after year one.
Alternatively, my joy for writing short stories became just another English class assignment, one that filled me with anxiety, especially when asked to read my work aloud. The little girl who once had a flair for entertaining and making others smile became the quiet one who kept her gifts hidden.
I continued writing in notebooks for a time, but eventually it became a memory until many years later.
Flash forward decades later to a forty-eight-year-old me: major surgery triggered a spiritual awakening, reuniting me with the child I left behind.
Spiritual awakening reconnected me to the writer I left behind, and with writing, more awakening has followed.
Carl Jung's influence has been the silent helper during my literary return, and his work has had a profound impact on my journey of self-discovery, hence making my debut poetry collection a must-complete project despite lacking a traditional publisher.
My chapbook, The Shadow's Reprieve, comprises three chapters: The Persona, Shadow's Reprieve, and The Self. Each poem draws on personal experiences as a type of "blueprint" for the reader. Not to trigger past traumas, not to stew in painful memories, but to extract reader-specific meaning, which will aid one on their journey of self.
Here is an excerpt from one of my poems:
Might I affix
Edit my human stance
Mind and its tricks
Truth be told: Self, I've deceived
Put self in jail
Thrown away the key
Reprieve, a pardon; I've had many
Temporary relief
Truthfully, isn't any
Cycles, circles, swing back around
Insights skimmed
Not really found
Reclaimed reprieve is only delay
Might shadow and me
Get on someday
My chapbook will be self-published in the last week of May. From here forward, I will post regular updates about my debut book journey: the good, the bad, the frustrating, and the rewarding moments.
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