Category: Art is Life

many projects, so little time

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Photo tribute to Norman Bel Geddes’ elegant vision of form and function

The Norman Bel Geddes exhibit at the Harry Ransom Center prompted me to collect photos I’ve taken in the last two years that pay homage to his aesthetic. As a self-described naturalist his designs reflected the beauty and forms of nature.  Norman started designing sets and theaters then expanded his vision into every facet of modern life. He definitely did not let beauty go unnoticed and brought the simple elegance of art deco into mid-century American design.  His ethos:

“The greatest profit may be attended by beauty…that whatever is stupid and ugly cannot be possibly functionally superior.”

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The Accidental Pilgrim – Part 1

New Mexico cast a spell on me thirty years ago, though I hadn’t visited in more than two decades. Waiting at the Austin Bergstrom airport bound for Santa Fe and Taos, I was looking forward to spending a week on vacation – with no agenda and good friends to see. In a sign of things to come, two days earlier a butterfly circled my head as I came home from work and landed next to me on a leaf. It crawled onto my hand when I invited it aboard and stretched the length of its humming, vibrating body onto my index finger. What a buzz, invigorating and meaningful in a way that had yet to unfold; these things are not always obvious at the time. Butterflies have come to me in times of transformation, signaling death or rebirth, both within and without.

As I waited to take off, I noticed something unusual; there were five albino children on my flight. If this were a dream I would look up albino and expect something innocent, pure and childlike to come my way, perhaps a spiritual experience of some kind. Audrianna, one of the delicately pale children of eleven, sat next to me clutching a soft, cream-colored teddy bear named Washington (after the city where they met). Our conversation was lively and we kept each other entertained until she and her companions left for Minneapolis, while I flew on to Albuquerque. Audrianna helped me to remember how much fun summer vacations are when you’re young and heading into the tingly unknown.

Driving through Santa Fe on my way to Taos, I enjoyed the bright blue skies and the wrinkled mountains rimming the horizon, but did not feel the enchantment fully until I got closer to Taos. For the next five days I crushed on the beauty of Taos, leaving many pictorial mementos on Facebook and gushing to my friends, while scanning MLS listings to see how feasible it might be to move there one day. My friends Lucky and Becky are a magical duo; we’ve had great fun in Canada, New Orleans and Port Aransas, but we all experienced Taos at another level. We went to the Pow Wow and visited Taos Pueblo where I found a beautiful butterfly kachina figure carved out of the root of an old cottonwood tree. The colorful carving portrayed the protective, guiding spirit of the butterfly arched over its human companion, both figures connected at the root. Like my guardian angel, I felt the butterfly’s touch signal the start of a new chapter in my aesthetic life, in the process of realizing myself as an artist. The monarch butterfly’s epic annual pilgrimage exemplifies this journey of (anything but) fragile beauty, led by spirit through fields and mountains of hardship, over every horizon and home to a land it knew but had not yet seen.

Taos was alive with the bright energy of the Sangre de Christo Mountains. Nurturing monsoon rains refreshed the air and the desert, bringing flowers in its wake, greening the trees and keeping the streams and brooks babbling along. The land, Taos’ friendly citizens, the healthy food and the curved, clean lines of adobe dwellings made me feel at home. Always nearby were the footprints of the Pueblo people. Georgia O’Keefe, Mabel Dodge Luhan, Dorothy Brett, DH Lawrence, and Millicent Rogers brought many artists to New Mexico, pulled by the spirit of the mountains, entranced by native art and the harmony of nature and spirit. Millicent Rogers captures her journey of spirit in a letter to her son Paul written toward the end of her life:

Did I ever tell you about the feeling I had a little while ago? Suddenly passing Taos Mountain I felt that I was part of the Earth, so that I felt the Sun on my Surface and the rain. I felt the Stars and the growth of the Moon; under me, rivers ran. And against me were the tides. The waters of rain sank into me. And I thought if I stretched out my hands they would be Earth and green would grow from me. And I knew that there was no reason to be lonely that one was everything, and Death was as easy as the rising sun and as calm and natural-that to be enfolded in Earth was not an end but part of oneself, part of every day and night that we lived, so that Being part of the Earth one was never alone. And all the fear went out of me- with a great, good stillness and strength.

As the Navajo say, “In beauty it is finished.” Perhaps I left a part of my heart in Taos, but I know I will soon return to its bright mountains and good people.

I took the high road from Taos to Chimayo, relishing the mountains rolling into the desert, the villages sprinkled along the way, the peace and light. Bright white light shines from the spine of the red earth into the hills and mountains of New Mexico. I’ve been to the Sierra Blanca and the Sandia Mountains but this was my first visit to the Sangre de Cristo range in northern NM. I talked a little about Chimayo in my dining post but the experience of visiting the sanctuary, seeing the little shoes left by pilgrims for the baby Jesus, the crutches wired to chain link fences – that’s a horse of a different color. I am open to mysteries, embracing of whiffs, feather light touches and glimmers of the divine. Poems are born of those moments of connection. I enjoyed a centering meditation in the chapel and had fun picking grass for a horse living in the complex, whose lips were a fence away from some juicy tufts. A small family took over as I left, the horse reaping the benefit of our Franciscan kindness. I came away with some healing earth to share with friends who might need a blessing in times of trouble and set out to visit Ralph and Danny in Santa Fe. In spite of a lovely day in the mountains of Chimayo, my mind struggled with the tortured image of Christ center stage in the Old Spanish chapel.


I was raised Catholic, yet the grisly image of crucified Christ (hereafter known as Barbecued Jesus) still sets me on my heels. I once heard a record in Catechism that detailed minute by hour the suffering of Christ on the cross. It was morbid in a way that the bleeding, wax figure of Jesus at the San Jose Catholic Church in South Austin exalts. The primal need to kill God; to know that we, as humans, did not suffer alone and unheard is something I understand. The hate side of love bears our burden of ignorance, desolation, hunger. Can we offer ourselves fully without it? Perhaps some of the vitriol we see on the world stage – one religion attacking another in the name of God- is an expression of the hatred we cannot acknowledge. Despite my cynical response to the tortured savior I did collect some of the sacred earth from the sanctuary to give to friends and family. I can appreciate miracles, divine intervention and the triumph of compassion over suffering. All faiths bear testament to these extraordinary events and states of being.

Still, when I got to Santa Fe to see my friends Danny and Ralph, talk turned to barbecued Jesus. How could people who were forced into Christianity turn to the very image of their oppression? Give me the resurrection and help me to understand forgiveness for the barbarism of human kind, please. Once upon a time the three of us shared a multicultural approach to spirit, spoiled citizens of a time and place that advocated compassion and inclusiveness. This may become a relic of “the good old days” given the rise of religious intolerance and extremism worldwide. It was sad to confront my cynicism in the harsh light of religion and the politics that buzzed like flies around a tired old mule.

I have described myself not as a seeker, but as a finder. There are times of abeyance, of low ebb when nothing comes or goes. Just before a prayer, a movement of a focused will to be. These are the hinges that open or close the doors of past and future realizations. Part II: behind the blue door . . .

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Mile high city/art in Denver

Denver has a fun, walkable downtown with too many good restaurants to catalog in three days.  So, in this post I’ll let my camera do the talking; more on Denver dining to come. I include video of a street musician named Chris playing one of the painted pianos on the 16th street mall
and a few shots of my visit to the Clyfford Still Museum. Still, one of the founders of American Abstract Expressionism was famous for, among other things, hiding most of his work until he was offered a museum dedicated solely to his work in Denver. The articles reveal a man as stark in his life as he is in his art, an anti-celebrity.

 

 

 

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Beauty or just a hint of nostalgia?

My fascination with patterns enables me to see beauty in unexpected places. Mood and memory certainly provide grist for the aesthetic mill. Was I a baby staring at the blinds of a window near my crib, a morsel from the age of innocence that compels me to notice light and shadow play? We respond to sounds, smells and tastes that bring our senses to the edge of a long forgotten moment. What if these moments of almost remembering bear the seeds of a gestalt that encompasses our entire lives in one instant? Will we stand on that brink when passing beyond this world? So many questions, so little time (or perhaps too much time idly spent). In driving home from work I began to notice urban scenes that sparked my imagination. The first two were on Guadalupe St. and the rest are from the soon to be razed, 33 year old Deutchman’s Plumbing on South First St. The great Yelp review linked here by Kyle S. paints Herr Deutchman as a wry character indeed.

I wonder, was the old barn of a building imbued with some of that character? I don’t know, maybe it’s me or maybe there is something in these shots that I feel but cannot see. You tell me.

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West Austin Studio Tour – hanging with David Amdur

Back in the day, the Amdur Gallery lived on East 5th Street, a combination woodworking shop and fine arts gallery showcasing Austin artists who went on to national and international acclaim. Julie Speed, Helmut Barnett, Melissa Grimes, Malou Flato, Doug Jaques, and Jon Narum, were some of the featured artists. While the gallery closed downtown David Amdur remains as productive as ever, now in South Austin, with his shop and basketball court incorporated into a studio living complex. In the home he designed and built, we see the same sensibility that made the gallery a success and helped put Austin artists on the map. David knows wood. His sculptures have been featured in many shows, including three pieces in the People’s Gallery at Austin City Hall. The shop features modern equipment but, as you can see, there is a timeless, turn of the century quality, both in his rhythmic sculptures and in the craft. I remain impressed as ever by his creative process, steady as he goes. These days David can be found on any number of project sites and at home, reflecting on life, taking abuse from his cat, playing guitar, shooting hoops and feeding his fish. As a member of the Guild of Austin Artisans David continues to hone his craft and ensure another generation of fine woodworkers benefits from the Amdur design aesthetic. Please follow the links to Amdur Works to see why I remain so impressed.

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Juke joint rolling down Hwy 77

Heading South to the Rockport Music Festival, I relied on some fine Texas blues to put me in the mood. I started with one of my favorite “broads,” Angela Strehli shown here with Stevie and Jimmy Vaugh, Denny Freeman and Kim Wilson. .
Oh, the early days at Huts, Liberty Lunch, Soap Creek Saloon, Antone’s, the AusTex and the Continental Club. First up: David Grissom and Derek O’Brien with Malfred Milligan. .
So many great bands come and gone. By the time my sister Carol and I finished a delicious meal at Cheryl’s by the Bay and the Perfect Chocolate Martini at the Lighthouse Inn we were ready for some shadow dancing to Los Lobos, who brought it big time. .
My shadow hadn’t hit a groove like that in years, but don’t worry baby, it’s not the last.

Riding back from the beach, Lucinda Williams returned the joy I felt the first time I saw her at the Alamo Hotel, singing Robert Johnson’s Malted Milk
truly too cool to be forgotten
.
As is the great Doug Sahm, bringing it on home this Stormy Monday .

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The Shell and the Kernel – an Easter reverie

Celebrating my birthday on Easter at the ocean gave me a chance to check in with my Self and open to rejuvenation, resurrection. This Easter reverie reminded me of a time a few years ago in which my understanding of Self and ego centered around symbols of the egg. May Easter unfold for you throughout the years to come.

The changes in perception I’ve been experiencing are connected to the ongoing Egg series. I just read a bit from the Sanford book, Mystical Christianity that somehow I missed in Edward Edinger’s The Bible and the Psyche:

“As Jungian analyst Edward Edinger pointed out, the Center consents to being broken and divided symbolically in the breaking of the host, so that his reality may be disseminated within and among the worshipers. All of this is part of the Christian mysterion which is further described in verses 17 and 18, that reality we call Christ is available to us in very small portions, of which we partake inasmuch as we are able, and it is like a sacrifice made by God for our sakes that this can happen. And in fact in all psychological and spiritual advances in consciousness it works this way; the truth is assimilated only bit by bit.”

This relates directly to the breaking up of the egg that is an ongoing symbolic progression. The ego as the egg, changing as the Center grows within, then cracking open and being disbursed throughout as a universal awareness of the Center in all. Yesterday as I was riding the bus I saw the shell of the ego/egg changing and dissolving, becoming luminous like a star, with some discrete boundaries but soft and light, not fragile and brittle. Our essential nature as it shines forth from the Center is light. This is the message that just keeps unfolding. Incorporating the shadow has continued growing the awareness of the center as it is disbursed throughout humanity as it was shown in the last part of the dream I had last December. As I held on to the shadow and walked into the light outside I saw kaleidoscopic scenes of humanity from all parts of the earth. This is something I’ve been working on for so many years, finding it in myself to love all people. I swear if there ever was a beautiful mandala it is the earth.

One day as I sat in the back yard I experienced myself fragmenting, emotionally, like shards of glass exploding in slivers, piercing my awareness like knives. This searing, painful recognition of brokenness, of imperfection gave way to a healing fountain from the Center, flowing through the separation, bringing healing in its wake. I felt like the butterfly I saw drinking in the water from the sprinkler. It would just stretch its wings out and drink in the living water, the Holy Sprit drenching the soul with love. This is the love I must feel for myself. Looking outside doesn’t work. This love from deep inside, from my heart of hearts is for me too. This is something I haven’t learned from my family although my daughter experiences this love of self without the overtones of its shabby pretender, Narcissus. Our culture is infested with this case of mistaken identity, the confusion of the inflated ego with the wholeness of Self. Now is the time for reconciliation and for love and forgiveness, starting with myself.

The shell image came to me months before I read this book. The ego is handled in the same way I saw it, as the brittle shell of time surrounding the eternally evolving self within.

Excerpts from The Shell and the Kernel by Nicholas Abraham and Maria Torok with my commentary:

Introjection represents both the aim and the specific course of psychic life from birth to death. It is a constant process of acquisition and assimilation, the active expansion of our potential to accommodate our own emerging desires and feelings as well as the events and influences of the external world. It is the psychic counterpart of the child’s biological development and continues through the various stages of maturation, including adulthood. As a result, the repressions and psycho-sexual anxieties and experiences of childhood continue on and do not dominate the unfolding consciousness of the individual. They view sexuality as an expression of the energy of the psychic-somatic, not the cause and cite any number of traumas to the process of introjection as inhibitory toward integration.

Introjection is the process of psychic nourishment, growth and assimilation, encompassing our capacity to create through work, play, fantasy, thought, imagination and language. It is the continual process of self-fashioning through the fructification of change, whether the modification is biological and internal (i.e. sexual maturation) or external and cultural (child detaching from parents). At the same time, it represents our ability to survive shock, trauma or loss; it is the psychic process that allows human beings to live harmoniously in spite of instability, devastation, war and upheaval.

Three stages of introjection:

1) Something new or foreign (good or bad) occurs in or to me
2) I turn myself into that which this new “thing” has done to me. I familiarize myself with it through play, fantasy, projections, etc. I appropriate it for myself.
3) I become aware of what has occurred and of my own gradual encounter with it. As a result, I am now able to give the whole process a place within my emotional existence; I also understand why and how the scope of “myself” has been modified and expanded. The purpose of psychoanalysis is to intensify the process of introjection in order to effect healing of life traumas. Some of the obstacles to introjection are the phantom (undisclosed family secret handed down through generations), illness or mourning, an untoward sexual outburst at the time of loss, a secret or alien identity which “entombs” an unspeakable consummated desire.

The shell and the kernel in dynamic relation:
How the ego is represented (p80):

The ego struggles on two fronts: toward the outside it moderates appeals and assaults – turned inside it channels excessive and incongruous impulses. Freud sees this as a protective layer, an ectoderm, a cerebral cortex, a shell. The role of the shell is also to conceal and yet reflect the nature of that which it protects. They are very clear about this; the kernel is “unbendingly resistant to encyclopedic systemization.” The authors admitted the possibility of a conceptual organization of psychoanalysis but its inherent unity cannot be found in the bounds of traditional thinking, its apprehension requires a new dimension to be found.

Stage 1

The question: “If Freud’s theories form a protective shell around his intuition, simultaneously concealing and revealing it, what of the actual kernel? For it is the kernel which, invisible but active, confers its meaning upon the whole construction. This kernel, the active principal of psychoanalytic theory, will not show through unless all the apparent contradictions have found their explanation in the unity I ascribe hypothetically to Freud’s intuition. (Abraham and Torok)“

Semantics play a large part in conveying the contradictions inherent in posing opposites for reconciliation. For instance, Pleasure and Discharge refer not to the conscious experience but to that which may be experienced as pain/pleasure simultaneously. In this way they approach the new dimension of unity in polarity. A & T accuse philosophy, which is reflexive (reflecting upon thought itself) of being naïve, ignoring the mystery of the “opaque indeterminacy of the distance that separates the reflecting subjects from themselves, a distance endangering even patent notions founded on an illusory proximity to self, or the space that separates the “I” from the “me”. In this space, in this non-presence of the self to itself – the very condition of reflexivity, psychoanalysis stakes it domain – on the ground of non-thought. The challenge: how to include the very thing which is a precondition of the discourse and which fundamentally escapes it. If nonpresence, the kernel and ultimate basis of all discourse is made to speak, can it – must it- make itself heard in and through presence to self? Such is the paradox inherent in psychoanalysis”.

AntiSemantics: they go to great lengths to establish the “designification” of words like “pleasure”, Unconscious, Id, Self, Conscious, in an effort to return again to the mystery of meaning arising from non-being or un-thought. This is valuable in setting up the relationship between the ego and the self, as layers of interpenetrating psychic envelopes.
The messenger and sender are used to describe the process of establishing meaning as it stems from that which the two have in common, but remains yet in mystery. The poles of somatic (body but not just body) and psychic (mind but also designified) are the opposites, with the representative or messenger more clearly visible as the mediating entity. Poetry uses symbols to convey a meaning, which is alluded to but never fully articulated or revealed. “The philistine claims to translate and paraphrase the literary symbol and thereby abolishes it irretrievably.” The mystery remains but the desire to possess it, to describe it is just as powerful. We can view this process as Adam’s challenge as God asks him to name what he sees. Naming includes both the desire to possess something or limit it while simultaneously admitting the futility of absolute definition. Something always remains unspoken.

Abraham combines the two ideas of the unconscious and the symptom as more than a way of treating neurosis. The unconscious, with its ability to overwhelm the conscious mind and its historical self-reference is shown as the incoherent basis of self-identity. Symptoms allow us to track down the disruptions in conscious development and track them to the source of origin in the unconscious, establishing maps, as it were into our mystery of being.

Anasemia is introduced as a way to define the paradoxical status of thinking and interpretation. Abraham maintains that psychoanalysis is mainly an interpretive science, but anasemia allows for the interpretation of that which is not available to direct interpretation, the apparent with not apparent, observation and non-observation, speech and silence, and so on.

Symbol and Anasemia enable us to look at fantasy as a symptom of a desire that seeks solution through expression. He pairs it with the symbol of the messenger, which can also be seen as instinct or drive. Fantasy creates the message that links the envelopes of the somatic (organic source of drive or message) to the psychic or conscious/body awareness. The somatic is alluded to by the messages conveyed to the psychic outer envelope. In this way the kernel is expressed to the ego or shell. Sexual fantasies are represented as contact between the phallic nature of the unconscious Kernel with the envelope or Ego. The embedding and interrelationship of the kernel in successive envelopes or layers produces on the surface, the ego or epidermal expression of the Self (kernel). Again, that which the envelope (ego) conceals it simultaneously reveals as the kernel is implicit in every envelope and interpenetrating all, including the unconscious receptacle of itself. It arises in the unconscious but stems from a deeper organic source: God, the manifest Center as Christ.

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April Fools saunter Johnson City

Sunday drives were a family way of life for boomers, like road trips and burger joints. While I don’t eat beef, I did enjoy the really tasty baa baa black sheep burger with goat cheese, stone ground mustard, tomato and pepperoncini peppers at Pecan Street Brew Pub. Couldn’t resist the Sisyphus Barleywine Real Ale, a nice compliment to my burger and sweet potato fries. Walking through the low trafficked, unrented stores and the open streets of Johnson City (where everyone knows each tree) fed my nostalgia for small town life. Taking an out of the way road back to 281 presented us with a romanticized family idyll: a dog swimming in a creek with mom, dad and two laughing kids. The green, rolling hills of the hill country are a welcome harbinger of spring, more wild flowers will come. Rain has caressed the land and given us a delightful bouquet.

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The Center – an alchemical perspective

The book of Genesis pictures Adam and Eve living peacefully together in the Garden of Eden.  Sharing the center of the garden are the Tree of Life and the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil.  This establishes the link between knowledge (Tree of Good and Evil) and eternal life (Tree of Life).  Joseph Campbell describes the center as “the axis mundi, the central point, the pole around which all revolves.  The central point of the world is the point where stillness and movement are together.  Movement is in time, but stillness is eternity, and experiencing the eternal aspect of what you’re doing in the temporal experience, this is the mythological experience.” (Power of Myth)  Both leaving and return are realized through the center, the simultaneous awareness of the temporal and the eternal.

Bill Moyer, in a conversation with Joseph Campbell shares this perspective:

“Campbell was no pessimist.  He believed there is a “point of wisdom beyond the conflicts of illusion and truth by which lives can be put back together again.”  Finding it is the “prime question of the time.”  In his final years, he was striving for a new synthesis of science and spirit.  “The shift from a geocentric to a heliocentric world view,” he wrote after the astronauts touched the moon, “seemed to have removed man from the center–and the center seemed so important.  Spiritually, however, the center is where sight is.  Stand on a height and view the horizon.  Stand on the moon and view the whole earth rising–even by way of your television, in your parlor.”  The result is an unprecedented expansion of horizon, one that could well serve in our age, as the ancient mythologies did in theirs, to cleanse the doors of perception “to the wonder, at once terrible and fascinating, of ourselves and the universe.”  . . . new discoveries of science “rejoin us to the ancients” by enabling us to recognize in this whole universe a reflection magnified of our own most inward nature; so that we are indeed, its ears, its eyes, its thinking, and its speech–or in theological terms, God’s ears, God’s eyes, God’s thinking, and God’s Word.”  The last time I saw him I asked him if he still believed–as he had once written–“that we are participating in one of the very greatest leaps of the human spirit to a knowledge not only from outside nature, but also of our own deep inward mystery.” He thought a minute and answered, “The greatest ever.” (Campbell xviii)

Joseph Campbell followed his bliss.  At 80 he looked 60, healthy and vibrantly alive.

I have always been intrigued by the way the mind reflects natural systems. On a very simple level, the movement of particles or heavenly bodies revolve around the center.  In the molecule it is the nucleus, in the solar system the Sun enlivens and supports the planets.  Not only does it supply us with the light and energy we need to live, it’s spiritual aspect (the eternal solar logos) operates internally in the same way.  Human beings have a temporal and spiritual mode of being that can be harmonized and focused.

In the Zohar, the Book of Splendor, king Solomon describes the “kernel” or primal center as “the innermost light, of a transcendence, sublimity, and purity beyond comprehension.  That inner point extended, becomes a “palace” which acts as an enclosure for the center and is also of a radiance translucent beyond the power to know it.”  In Genesis, the breath of God moves over the waters of the Deep to create light, much as a worm hole passes light through a black hole in the center of a galaxy.  Perhaps the symbol of infinity, with the two halves meeting in the center, has a profound meaning we understand subconsciously.  That too operates on many levels if we position humanity in the Center with the micro and macrocosmic worlds moving outward and back to center. That system of correspondences is the basis for the hermetic axiom “That which is above is as that which is below.”

In alchemy, the union of masculine and feminine, the sun and moon provides the synthesis necessary for union with the divine, which transcends gender.  The “alchemical marriage” occurs when the individual recognizes their position in the center of the micro and macro worlds and understands that in the center of the center is the indwelling presence of God.  That is the return to Eden, which exists in each of us, only to be realized by dint of our unfailing efforts to integrate self (known) and subconscious (unknown) in the Center (Self, wholeness). It is not a matter of achievement, but of perception.  That which remains hidden will be revealed when we have the eyes to see.  Only in a state of innocence, with no trace of guile, can the voice of the Holy Spirit (breath) be heard. Christian alchemists see Jesus as the Center, through love and forgiveness facilitating our re-union with God.  Jacob Boehme, a 17th century German mystic, taught that inner union with Christ was necessary for redemption.  If we want the gate of paradise to open, we must be selfless when standing at the door.  Inner, outer, up and down, all directions are reconciled in the Center.  Can you imagine the release – the tremendous relief of letting go of all desire or expectation when you are at your destination?  Home (Eden) is a place to rest, to let go and let God.

Jeffrey Raff spoke of Jung’s take on the Philosopher’s Stone (Self) in The Alchemical Imagination:

“Jung conceived of the Self as the union of opposites and the center of the psyche.  The stone was the union of opposites, and often portrayed as center.  The self could be personified as an inner figure as could the stone.  The self was the repository of wisdom and so, too, was the stone.  The self was the goal of all psychic life, and the end state to which the individuation process led, while the stone was the goal of all alchemical endeavors and the end to which all the alchemical processes led.  . .”

“Psychologically, the Self is a union of conscious (masculine) and unconscious (feminine).  It stands for the psychic totality.  So formulated, it is a psychological concept.  Empirically, however, the Self appears spontaneously in the shape of specific symbols and its totality is discernable above all in the Mandela and its countless variations”

“The basic motif is the premonition of a center of personality, a kind of central point within the psyche, to which everything is related, by which everything is arranged, and which is itself a source of energy.  The energy of the central point is manifested in the almost irresistible compulsion and urge to become what one is.  Although the centre is represented by an innermost point, it is surrounded by a periphery containing everything that belongs to the self. This totality comprises consciousness first of all, then the personal unconscious and finally an indefinitely large segment the collective unconscious whose archetypes are common to all mankind.”

“The Self is the center of the personality even before the process of individuation begins.  It only points toward wholeness symbolically, for the actual union of the conscious and the unconscious is the work of a lifetime. “

In Native American tradition, the Center is a sacred place.  Black Elk’s dream as a nine-year old boy is the most often quoted story in this regard.  He dreamt he was carried to the central mountain and saw that there was cooperation among the tribes, symbolized by many colored hoops, but his primary realization was this, “I saw myself on the central mountain of the world, the highest place, and I had a vision, because I was seeing in the sacred manner of the world.  But the central mountain is everywhere.”  The Arapaho tell how the Giver gave them the “middle place” to live.  The Navajo have a beautiful prayer to start the day:

Being as it were to be, long ago may I walk.
May it be happy before me.
May it be beautiful behind me.
May it be beautiful below me.
May it be beautiful above me.
May it be beautiful all around me.
In beauty is it finished, in beauty it is finished.

And in St. Peter’s cathedral in New York City, I saw the following prayer:

Christ before me.
Christ above me.
Christ below me.
Christ to the right of me.
Christ to the left of me.
Christ behind me.
Christ in every eyes I meet.

St. Teresa of Avila, a 16th Century Spanish mystic, writes in the Interior Castle:

“I began to think of my soul as if it were a castle made of a single diamond or of a very clear crystal, in which there are many rooms, just as in Heaven there are many mansions. These mansions are not “arranged in a row one behind the other”, but variously – -“some above, others below, others at each side; and in the centre and midst of the all is the chiefest mansion, where the most secret things pass between God and the soul.”

She describes this Seventh mansion as the soul reaching the Spiritual Marriage.  “Here dwells the King – -It may be called another Heaven”; the two lighted candles join and become one, the falling rain becomes merged in the river.  There is complete transformation, ineffable and perfect peace; no higher state is conceivable save that of the beatific vision in the life to come.”

The cross itself, a universal symbol, represents this union of the vertical and horizontal axis.  This motif becomes very significant when we look at the Tree of Knowledge and the Tree of Life.  The solar symbol, or circle within a circle says the same thing.

When I was 24 I had a visionary experience of the center.  I felt myself falling into a giant black sphere.  As I fell, my flesh melted off until I was bones, still falling into the center of this hole, this sphere.  When my bones disappeared the scene changed and I was part of a radiant silver and gold cloud.  I felt ecstatic, unaware of my body, my breath and anything but an overwhelming sense of being home.  It was the single most affecting experience of my youth.  I had been studying and reading enough to know that I was at the center.  I had no doubt.  There were two follow-up experiences.  One was a few days later: I was sitting/kneeling on my bed looking down at a painting and suddenly felt myself radiating from the center of my being outward.  It was so powerful that I painted my impression the next day.  The last in this sequence occurred when I was sitting outside at Barton Springs pool.  I was enjoying the beautiful green lawn and clattering cottonwood trees, clear water sparkling in the sun.  I focused on a blade of grass in front of me and suddenly, saw it radiating from its center.  Then, I knew the center was everywhere.  All things radiate from their center or sacred point.  This sounds so elementary, but until you experience it at a level that really impacts you, it’s just like saying God is everywhere.  It’s the difference in hearing and knowing.  Some of the simplest things are the easiest to take for granted, but if we can experience them with fresh eyes, our lives will change.