Thoughts on a Bus

Love is like a cobweb; beautiful for its seemingly indiscriminate union of unique geometrical shapes, figures and strength derived thusly from; at the same time a nightmare when no longer viewed in the light of day. In the dusk of a former love's memory gazing, nearly hypnotized by the pink and orange effluvia projected upon the near eve sky by that hollow glow of what was, sinking beneath the horizon, one runs the risk of becoming entangled within that forgotten web behind. Fight as they may, it is soon realized that all effort to free oneself from this web be futile; the more one struggles the more impossible it becomes to extricate oneself from the grasp of this mental cobweb.  

Out of my time spent partaking in life, it is indeed a rarity to find a soul who enjoys, beyond the mere nominal acquiescence, the cleaning up after oneself or another; it always remains a chore. However, tidying up to keep a clear home leads to healthier physical potentiality. As spring cleaning serves to rid the house of the accrued death and cobwebs accumulated over winter in preparation for the season of rebirth in the physical world, the same is necessary in that other, regrettably often too neglected world we also participate in. In this dialectic world of the subjective self and objective surroundings, the exterior receives most of the attention; leading often to deleterious results for both. The cult of change that society has become the exemplar devotee to, that man and woman have without so much of a feigned struggle, chose to accept over the past century; a change that affects the very life blood of humanities political economy in the classical sense, is but the negative principal of the forgotten positive ideal. We've removed ourselves from the seasons of nature into the narrowly sterile, neatly quartered monetary confines where wares for the abstract concept of what we used to know as seasonal changes are peddled. The fight for this change is what people live towards in this day and age. 

Focus on this sterilized form of exterior change, having removed us from the bosom of mother nature has also diverted attention away from our Jungian selves. The ego being the conspicuous element of adolescent development that projects itself outward to rely on style or the opinions of others for support. As a natural, but not absolute antithesis, the self being the container of the hitherto weaker parts of the personality relegated to our unconscious, serves at first as a means to protect our fragile ego development from failure. On the whole, however, it is not supposed to be suppressed forever, and in keeping with Hegalian dialectic, it ultimately purposes to create, or more appropriately endeavor to create a synthesis or in Jungian terms a 'Gegensatzvereinigung' with the ego. 

It, refering to the self, is to be perceived at first with recognition and a purposeful striving towards strengthening those weaker elements of the personality to make a fuller, richer self. Thusly, since life itself is but the objective backdrop of what our subjective self projects out upon it, a necessarily richer and more diverse world will be able to cultivate itself and spring forth organically, rising out of the compost of all humanities subjective selves. That is, to move away from what Freud termed the 'death instinct' or that of relying upon lifeless material things and dead cosmic superstitions to compensate for our disconnection from that richest conception of unified existence; that of the inseparable nature between a mother and child in its first two or three years. So then, having recognized and internalized the self and our previous death instinct there arises an attempt to recreate a new system of life; that of moving back towards, not the infantile, but a new mature and enlightened 'life instinct'; utilizing the crystallization of both human and natural history is what we need to strive for. (UNDER CONSTRUCTION) 

A life instinct whose only hope of rediscovery for the majority, I fear, is within that sterile egoistic state that men and women have cocooned themselves within. Despite the consciously oriented attempts of humanity until now to create a sterile, lifeless canvas for life to be rationally organized and directed upon, the most conspicuous element of the former organic life, full of potentiality towards reorienting our lives in exactly a more organic direction is love; specifically the lost, forgotten, only to be re-discovered within the unconscious dusk of love's cobwebs. The pain of being trapped within, makes us look within, towards our own self, and it can only be through a re-connection of that boundless depth and diversity of life that resides in all of us that we can even maintain the most infinitesimal hope for a better objective life for all.