Splits

My mother, as I’ve no doubt noted at some point, was psychologically split.  Some part of her continued to try and act her biological age, and some part was stuck at about age 17, which was the time in her life when she felt the most important and most valued.  I think most people get stuck at a certain age.  Remaining present to your life into old age is an uncommon quasi-miracle.

Children–at least sensitive children of the sort I was–have to evolve their own split to cope with the contradiction.  You shift seamlessly from one to the other, or superimpose the two frequencies on one another. (All totalitarian brain-washing depends on creating this split, between core personality, and assumed self, and on forcing, through threat of various forms of violence and pain, the person to forget their original self entirely.)

Anyway, last night, dreaming, I found myself first looking at a magnificent mountain range in Japan, then watching two crazy samurai ride a powerful mountain river, with countless twists and turns and jagged rocks.

This, to me, represents the beginning of integration.  The number 2 is significant.  Both parts were riding the same wave, at the same time.  The water of course is raw emotion.

I was also fighting, and losing to, a giant in my dream, repeatedly.  But every time I lost, I was resurrected, and fought again.  And in every bout, I became a little more like the giant, more equal to him. I could tell, in the end, he could see where it was going and beginning to respect me.  That’s how I woke up this morning.