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Mental Illness as Shamanic Template?

Alberto Salinas. el Curandero, qualified as a shaman according to the Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual V’s category of dissociative trance disorder.  , because he channeled the spirit of El Ni~no Fidencio within his cultural milieu; and because he healed people while in a trance state.  Many modes of his behavior had me running to the psychiatric journals with questions of whether or not Alberto’s uncanny abilities also qualified him as schizophrenic.  He said he heard voices and celestial music; he saw shadows; he was over-the-top creative; and, one could say, professionally intuitive and perceptive.  He was also delightfully theatrical, which is a common trait among shamans.

Before mankind evolved ego consciousness (i.e., in the prefrontal cortex),  numinosity was manifested with schizophrenic-like symptoms including trance, visions, and glossolalia. The most developed form of this was present in shamans, who worked extremely hard to develop enough ego consciousness to balance out the inner instability. As mankind has progressed, we’ve unlocked “syntaxic” modes, such as creativity, which allow us to integrate the unconscious into consciousness when channeling numinosity.

~Raskolnikov.  Reddit r/Jung

Ni~no’s Despensation of Technology

       I think one important thing to remember about the Fidencista Movement is the absolutely essential part photography plays in the dissemination of its gospel. You can imagine the impact photographs would have on bolstering religious faith.  For perhaps the first time in the history of divinity, the presence of photographs can prove beyond any doubt the existence of its main man.  In this new Dispensation of Technology, the faith factor relevant to Fidencismo becomes not Christ’s admonition to the doubting Thomas:  “Blessed are they who have not seen,” but more like:  “Blessed are they who have seen the most photographs.”  Alberto has a lot of photographs, perhaps the most extensive collection outside of Espinazo.  ~ Katherine Brittain in “The WASP and El Curandero

The Numinosum

The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer pause to wonder and stand rapt in awe, is as good as dead.

~Albert Einstein

When I first began studying Jung, the word numinous was not in my dictionary.  Perhaps it can be considered a general increase in consciousness that today Merriam-Webster offers 1:  supernatural, mysterious.  2:  filled with a sense of the presence of divinity:  holy.  3:  appealing to the higher emotions or to the aesthetic sense:  spiritual.

Numinosity might be the goosebumps that do waves all over your body when you experience something uncanny.  Or it might wake you up in the middle of the night with a shocking image from a dream.  It might be what transports you when listening to beautiful music.  Or it might actually be the reward for your search for The Other.  I’ve felt it with gratitude when a muse jumps onto my journaling page.

What I know for sure is numinosity comes when you draw near to the realm of the divine.  Maybe Eros is your guide.  You may feel numinosity when synchronicity happens to you.  Or you may dive headlong into the sea of the unconscious.  Careful you don’t drown.  Psychosis can be described as being overwhelmed by the collective unconscious.  Jung warned against the mind-blowing experiments of tripping on LSD in the ’60s because they might trigger psychosis.

Moses went up on Mt. Horeb and came down with the Ten Commandments, which God had given him up there, and also with white hair instead of chocolate brown.  Scared him to death. He had experienced the numinosum.

Princesses Gigi and Julieanne ~An Eperee~

My

Dear, sweet

Mom-in-Law:

Pampered princess,

Disgruntled widow,

Lots of time on her hands.

Takes great delight in teaching

My daughter, pampered princess two,

Womanly wiles that, when utilized,

Trap me between both Princess’s demands.

Explaining an “Epperee.”

I thought after posting my eperee, “See Casket?  See Kay Run?,” I should explain what an eperee is.

When was this written?  2007?  Hugh is the one who introduced it to the old Writing Group in the McAllen Public Library.

I found it to be so much fun to craft.  But even more so because when one thinks of Hugh, one thinks of nudists colonies and Hugh riding naked on a camel in the Sahara!

I still have the “nudists” calendar he gave me.

 

An epperee is crafted like this:

The first line=one syllable, adding one syllable/line until you reach the tenth line for a total of ten syllables.

I’ll submit another one to you as an example, and then you try it.

Submit it here and I’ll give you a grade. (joke)

 

 

See Casket? See Kay Run? An Epperee

See

Casket?

See Kay run?

Don’t fence me in,

Don’t seal the gasket.

Let my atoms go free!

Somewhere over the rainbow

An Organizing Principle

Puts into play my recreation.

Still I’d like someone to dance on my grave.

An

Atom

Never dies.

So when I die

My atoms will fly

(Unburdened by baggage)

Around in Arcadia,

Memory in abstentia,

Wherever the O.P. tells them to,

Mini me’s will dance around earth anew.

Dream Within a Dream ~Edgar Allen Poe ~

Dear Sister,
My story gets told on every corner, every back alley, in the board room, the court room and on the cat walk run way.
All my love to you,

Take this kiss upon the brow!

And, in parting from you now,

Thus much let me avow —

You are not wrong, who deem

That my days have been a dream;

Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,

In a vision, or in none,

Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem

Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar

Of a surf-tormented shore,

And I hold within my hand

Grains of the golden sand —

How few! yet how they creep

Through my fingers to the deep,

While I weep — while I weep!

O God! Can I not grasp

Them with a tighter clasp?

O God! can I not save

One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?

Sleep well.

And Hrodpreht is gone in the twinkle of an eye.

My dear Katherine, the golden grains of sand in this hour glass have run their course, and Hrodpreht can no longer abide this aquarium, he has been my humble servant, my little showman. And so I ask you to hold on to his feeling and release him back into the gone wild hall of mirrors of this world drenched in the age of Aquarius.

Sand castles can and will be rebuilt and that’s our play on the tormented shore. As Carlos Castaneda quoted Don Juan, “Knowledge comes floating like specks of gold dust, the same dust that covers the wings of moths. So, for a warrior, knowledge is like taking a shower, or being rained on by specks of dark gold dust.”

And if I got some in your eye, then be glad, because you are not alone, those are my tears as well. And pour them out upon your paper and dance in the vesica piscis of a world unfurled.

All my love to you!

Cresting The Source

Boogie boarding is like riding the driving force of the collective unconscious. You guide with your hands, but the Divine Power will take you where it wants, which is exactly where you’re supposed to be, regardless of your designs.

What I see as I ride the crest is blue skies, white clouds, and golden grains of sand. And you standing in the surf looking out over the cresting waves at the far horizon. The Wizard looking across the sea of the collective unconscious to the land of <Cuba??>

I hope someday we go there together.

p.s.  I found a sea bean from your far shore where you learned from the magician.  I found it way up in the dunes last weekend, not buried, but begging by tickling my fancy to be picked up and put in my treasure chest.

Yes, I hope someday we go there together.  Even if it’s just Cuba.  I miss you.

The Mermaid and the Magician

~written by Hrodspreht; mused by me~

 

And if I take her hand and guide it where it yearns to be
Will she lose touch of all her cares?
Seeing what she sees, perched aloft a swelling wave
In an unknown place
A foreign shore
And she wonders
Have I flown too far?
Scintillating fiery sea surrounds a tousled mermaid’s glee
And she wonders
Will no one play with me?

 

A mirage upon the sand, some frozen figure standing firm
Feels no wind, nor surf, nor spray
Nor hears the sea gulls chattering away
He’s feeling something she’s not felt
And he wonders,
Would she stand as I?
At my side?
Let’s go haunt the sunken ships
And search for treasure at the ferry slip!
She shouts across the sparkling plane
Perhaps he’s hungry, thirsty maybe?
Musing with a flutter of her tail
Why’s he such a bore?
She’s diving, chasing schools, hands searching Poking, prodding,
Scallops for dinner and urchins too
This swim is for you, not me,
I mean me, not you, argh, ours?

 

Well, the ocean currents have their course…
And what was it I was after?
Something, something…
…need a word…