Conscious Coils
Triptych Two
The second piece of my new Triptych collection. I think that Substack can push writers into a grind of publish, publish , publish - always on to the next thing. Now I’m all for discipline and accountability, and creators must always evolve and develop their work. However this creates the problem of a portfolio being treated as pieces rather than a whole, and our older works forgotten. With this series I am taking three of my older pieces and reweaving them into a singular train of thought.
The Embattled Self
Since the relatively recent work of Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, we've finally discovered (or perhaps rediscovered) - our multi-layered and multi-faceted selves. While I'm grateful to be living in an age that at least acknowledges something much greater than the moment to moment conscious monologue that holds most of our daily attention, our framing of the deeper, greater mind leaves much to be desired. One particular irk of mine is the term “subconscious”. I've no doubt the term originated with the appropriately grand and romantic “subterranean”, the great marble caves with lakes of ice, and lake of magma beneath our feet. A place where great stone stalactites, and stalagmites form endless halls with long, flowing shadows. Subconscious, however, soon became chained to words like subpar, suboptimal, substitute. A lesser thing to be tamed, corrected, and brought to heel with the chattering of the momentary consciousness. And when our deeper minds contradict those momentary (often transitory) wants then the self becomes a battleground, as we treat our thoughts as undesirables to be exiled from the world within.
Sharp edges, bloated joints,
My psyche’s odd organisms
Prowl dreams and memories,
Needling their blurred divisions.
So much flotsam in my soul
Nimbly stitched by spiders.
Tapestries of foreign thought
That confound the thinker.
(From Soul’s Flotsam - taken from my book: Hypnos Hermes)
Meeting Mind
What happens when we humble our immediate, chattering mind and honour our greater being? Those frightening internal snakes and spiders become a cast of wise (if flamboyant or imposing) counsellors. The stormy vistas that haunt our nightly (or maybe importantly daytime) dreams become a landscape to navigate with buried treasures or secret tomes. Of course not all of these competing elements are correct all of the time, but if we take our time and listen without prejudice we can pan those streams of consciousness for the gleams of golden understanding. We lose no sovereignty of ourselves when we accept our wandering thoughts as advisors to be respected, rather than rebels to be subjugated. As we listen, ponder and carefully select from the coloured swirls of our thoughts - the riotous kaleidoscope becomes a single crystal lens.
Looping, twisting ribbon,
Elusive Möbius slide.
I rose and slid unbidden,
Consciousness must ride.
Logos on the concrete,
Logic within the dream.
Steadfast and the secret
Dance between the seams.
(From Call To The Spiral - taken from my book: Chantry Circuitry)
Soul Oasis
The ease and grace of a state of singular, unified being is a paradise, a lush oasis. Yet just like the oasis it is a place to be visited, enjoyed and departed from. The wild desert lands call again with their buried temples and whispering sand dunes.Many thinkers such as Nietzsche and Maslow speak of a goal of self unification or integration of aspects as a singular goal. And yes - this is a worthy endeavour to pursue, but this is not a linear journey. As we explore our contradictory natures and weave their strands of fire into silken guiding ropes, already they buckle and diverge. The external world is a maelstrom of conflicting forces and energies and a beautiful summer’s day is but a moment. Why should our internal worlds be any different? As we muster the horses of our ambitions and longings - they speed towards our outcomes, but the horses grow bored and restless and pull towards exotic scents and strange sights. Innocence is a state rediscovered as we smooth the jagged edges of our fractured experience, but just as the child we become restless to explore the world and throw ourselves in a thousand directions at once. For innocence and integration, experience and contradiction are not fixed points on a journey but curves on an eternal spiral.
Pulling lines, petty desire,
Tangled trails fail, surrender.
Blazing pearl, softest fire,
An oddment path to order.
Silken spiral, climbing coil,
Jagged gemstone brilliance.
Blazing pavement, burning foil
Climbing back to innocence.
(From Silken Spiral - taken from my book: Chaos Charms)
I greatly enjoyed this exercise and its been interesting to see how I’m attracted to the same themes again and again yet with different perspectives, and how they can weave together into a singular panoramic view. I fully intend to keep going with these, and I implore other writers to find their own ways of re-presenting their older pieces, nothing is obsolete on life’s unfolding journey.
Happy Tomes Tuesday
Other serial writers here on Substack are listed below. Take a look and see what stories are being weaved by these teller of tales:
Andrew Sears
Andy Futuro
Aysun G. (She/Them)
Bradley Ramsey
Caroline Barnard-Smith
Derek James Kritzberg
Elliot Kessler
FoxxeHole
Gillian Fletcher
Ian Peterson
James Kenwood
J.M. Dempsen
James Ross
Jane Dougherty
Josh Tatter
Joshua Lavender
Kathrine Elaine
Kenneth E. Harrell
Kenneth Yap
Max Windom
Michael P. Marpaung
Minnie Mayhem
Nicole Paton
Nicole Winchester
Pat Johnston
Phillip Carter
Redd Oscar
S.L. Stallings
The Black Knight
The Man Behind the Screen
Thomas Norford
Tony Chung
Victor Jimenez
Thank you for your time as always
Graeme
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