No man is an island

For the first time in a long time I feel at a loss for words. It’s not writer’s block, that is when the words are there, but won’t come out, or come out all wrong. No, this is something different. Like a stillness, a waiting, a loss.

The Red Book Adventures, so called perhaps for my wanting it to be adventurous, has turned out to be dull, all the more so by finding articles confirming, as I had found, that there was really nothing to be found here, outside of pretty pictures. If The Red Book is Jung’s ‘gem’ then it is a gem that is meaningless, like a bejeweled wedding band after you’re divorced.

What I’ve been reading a lot about lately is trauma and rape. It leaves me silent and sad. Pondering the damage we do to each other. Reflecting on my role as a healer, and taking strength in knowing that we heal in relationship, and neuroscience proves conclusively, there is no single brain. Donne was so right on, “No man is an island.” Once again, art precedes science.