I feel this great cave at the center of human existence. We all have an entrance to it, one usually hidden in the back of a dusty closet filled with unused things, and the refuse of the long ago.
One can go there, and feel the origin of all that floats in our world, our dreams, our shapes, what we feel: all the answers are there, but long before words. There begins the possibility of words, but their flowering happens outside of the cave.
I am indulging myself here. I talk too much. It is a pendulation away from what I have taken to calling–somewhat technically inaccurately–Primary Process work. For me, the primary process is what is fundamentally true. It is the beginning of true spiritual work.
My dreams have been unusually deep lately. I am seeing things long hidden, and it is freeing me. I think I stand a good chance of becoming human in the not too distant future.