Coming down the chute

Why do I write this blog?

Do I hope that others may benefit from my personal insights and I in return can benefit from the feedback and insights of others? To be honest, there is a part of me who is hoping for that but it isn’t a part dominant enough to urge me to really do it.

But there is another part of me, more obscure, difficult to grasp.

This part wants to come down the chute, wants to be born to see some daylight and transform myself in the process. At least that’s the idea I have of it in my current state of ignorance.

I was always travelling with my mind to the deepest possible parts of my psyche constantly probing and analyzing and i guess it brought me a fair way in terms of self-knowledge but then again maybe it didn’t, because often I come to a point where I feel to know nothing at all and that my perception of the person Ture Schmidt is an illusion anyway.

Well I guess the probing and rational mind has its limits and it’s worth nothing unless it can also let go of  its ideas and connect with a deeper, intuitively knowing part of the Self. It’s this intuitive mind, my instincts who build up pressure on the threshold of my consciousness, begging to be integrated.

This is a process that has been on its way for a long, long time but it reached a boiling point now. I know that because I let my dreams talk to me echoed from my astrological observations of my chart, and of course I know it because I can just feel it.

I want to share my latest dream in a series of dreams showing the conflict between my socially and culturally condoned self and my primordial, intuitive nd instinctive Self, which is the Self waiting to be individuated:

I am at a family estate. The family is running a company here. The father is the ruler. He is a dislikable figure to me and I am not at ease with his energy.

It’s my first day on this estate and I am here to find a role in this machine-like system. I am anxious and excited about that because I want to find my place so I can feel secure while at the same time feeling an inner repulsion against the whole thing.

It’s morning and people arrive for work, many people. I observe a few young girls, lifeless puppets with too much make-up, they register at a check-in with an exaggerated ,enthusiastic “good morning”.

There is a morning ritual: everyone sits on the yard of the estate in a big circle. One !has! to sit cross-legged. I don’t like that position and I feel that I have to retreat.

There are many bungalows on the edge of the yard and I enter one. On the bed lies an absent man. I realise that it is William Wallace from the movie Braveheart (played by Mel Gibson and looking exactly like him).

He is weakly begging me to drive a ballpoint pen into his head. I am appalled but I do as he wishes.

As soon as the pen sticks in his head he comes to life. He starts throwing himself around  in the bed in wildly twisting convulsions.

A mobile phone rings in the bathroom adjoining the bedroom. He tells me to pick it up. So I answer the phone and a voice is asking me a question. I  intuitively answer something and the voice says that everything is ok.

I realise that this was a security call because I woke up the „monster“ and that I provided the correct code so the „monster“ is  now free to roam.

I am scared because I also realise that this wild man who is a force of nature will now go out and create  carnage, slaying everyone to take revenge for his captivity. But I am not only scared I also feel positively excited in anticipation of the slaying because his freedom is my freedom and I can’t wait to see this authoritarian system being wiped out.

I am only scared for being caught as the one unleashing the monster, so I quickly leave the room.

In the moment I leave the bungalow other people enter, instantly realising what happened. They are shouting something and quickly a big vacuum cleaner is brought to the scene with a hose big enough for a man to fit through.

I can not see it but I think they vacuum William Wallace through the hose and in a strange way I am relieved while also puzzled about the fact that I feel relieved.

Then I wake up.

I can not get that dream out of my head.

Just a few days earlier I dreamt that a primitive man showed me how to make fire with a stick.

So I know that the archetypal primordial man, living from his instincts wants to be integrated into my psyche to keep my spiritual fire and purpose alive. But my socially condition personality seems to have trouble allowing for that and is always around the corner with ist vacuum cleaner, eager to clean up situations that could create conflict.

And how to integrated something that wild and raw into this civilised world anyway?

Asking myself that question one symbol of the dream stuck with me:

Driving the ballpoint pen into his head.

We are born into this world head first. Astrological Mars rules over the forehead and Mars is also the symbol for an energy rushing forward, something coming into the open, being born. A separation and victory over the anonymity of the womb.

So I hope writing about anything that takes hold of me, that wants to be realised, starts the process and something more authentic and truly me will come down the chute.

Writing and putting it out there no matter what comes back and how.