through

5/28/22

And so, knowing it was going to be a long evening,
of writing, analysis, and focused study and energy,
I thought of all that needed to be done
and exhaled a huge sigh, remembering how
it’s a Saturday night and this is my life now

and immediately my mind went to,
or brought me to, a thought, or image,
or both, and I recognized the frequency
on which it came.

I knew what this was.

My ears now, having been tuned,
(and not willingly, lemme tell ya)
I went to the frequency around me,
becoming it and I see him
up ahead and on my left,
here, now, or I there, and Jung
sitting, by himself, legs crossed
smoking his pipe in his left hand
and holding a paper in his right,
studying and reading with intent
and laser focus.

And I knew exactly,
knowing nothing of it,
what the man was doing
and why he was doing it
and my heart loved him because of it.

This man. Unreal. Even now, I see
him sitting, and studying, for himself,
and for others, continuing his work

and I also knew,
finally, thankfully,
without reaction,
or fear or flight,
what this was,
not only ours, now,
but all the moments:
what that mean, when
they come, and why ~
and why he was here,
and why I was there,
or, rather, how we both
are exactly right here,
and exactly right now,
in this moment,
in the study
together. 

and I shook my head

with tears in my eyes,
of pain for sake of joy,
and I thought about my life,
feeling the woundedness of
a heart that fears its path,
and I said aloud, chuckling,
watching him,
 “goddammit…”
knowing more now,
and feeling it with gratitude
of what this man is to me now
and of what I am to him. 

And so with the long night ahead,
I needed all the help I could get
(not only from Below, but Above, too.) 

And I called to him. 

“Jung!” 

He turned his body in his chair
45 degrees to his right ,
and glanced up at me,
staring at me unmoved,
like a person would if a person
familiar him and his house had
just walked into the inner room,
unannounced, of the “place” in which
he lives.


With his pipe still in his mouth
he –hilariously– didn’t budge or
adjust his body a single inch. 


And his arm still held the paper,
Frozen in front of him, held and
suspended before him by an arm
intending to read it.
There were no signs
of this moment being
mystical or anything
out of the ordinary for
him.

As a person in the field of
nonverbal communication
the implications of his reaction
were hilarious to me. 

And I burst out laughing.

I looked at him again,
shook my head and chuckled as
his eyes sparkled a beautiful fire of
empathy and challenge as they
never left my own, locking, and he 
softly puffing on the stem of his pipe. 

“Hey,” I said, laughing with a smile.
“I am really gonna need your help tonight.” 

A soft crack from the wood in the fireplace,
somewhere in the room.

He drew a long stream from his pipe
the bowl glowing orange. 

A little sparkle of blue came to his eye
and he said, “Well – (taking out the pipe)
when YOU (pointing at me with the pipe stem)
have  a question for which I (and pointed at himself)
can provide, come see me.” 

And we sat there, looking at each other,
in a moment of beatiful, encouraging,
warming, hilarious, and challenging
silence.

And I laughed aloud, shaking my head again,
in the same way, and said to him “This man…”

And I knew exactly what his answer meant, for
it only subtly implies the obvious, and leans far
more towards something deeper and darker like:
“Oooohhhhh there’s a TON of steps that you’re
gonna have to take on you OWN, tonight buddy,
before you’re actually needing to
come and have a visit with me.
You’ve got what you need already
to answer the questions you currently have.
So get to work already. time’s a wasting.
And remember
that when it comes to questions of the soul,
answered questions lead to undiscovered
problems, making you lost, again in the dark.
You know the drill, now. How it all goes. So…
See ya soon.”

and he looked me with those sparkling eyes
and flicked his eyebrows in the most subtle way
and we sat there as empathy flowed and he
nodded his approval, sitting with me in the
moment which is mine
and only mine,

teaching me,
yet again,
the lesson:

that my way
is a solitary way
and a lonely way
and that the only way for me
is the only one that goes by going
through.

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