Happy Saint Rainerius Day

I have not been writing very much.  So I hope we can begin or start over again.

I would like to write in a different way but that might take a major shock to my system because relocating and removing myself from friends and community seems to not be shocking me enough to write differently. if that is even a possibility. i’d like to try this, if only to impress my sister who expresses her dislike of (my) self-deprecating humor.

but this brings up the question of authenticity. and i have no idea what i meant by that. except i was thinking of real and pretend-real. and the notion that pretend-real can eventually become real. or supplant real. has that ever happened to you? and who makes these determinations of being real and being less real? my sister? maybe i can pretend to be less real. or but that does not mean that i am being more real if I stop pretending to be less real. i think that is what i must have meant about authenticity.

so this week i tried out Jungian analyst no. 3 (kathleen), and I am still trying out no. 2 (francine). so juggling 2 Jungians at the same time. But neither took me into the realm vast unexplored space i had hoped a Jungian might take me. I know so little about Jung or Jungians or analysis. But 2 friends of mine have tried it. And they are both people who I would like to pretend to be. I do not yet know what to think of Francine, neither positive nor negative. Her bookshelves are lined with books about various saints, biographies of saints, encyclopedias of saints, saint novels, saint manuals, etc.. when i tell her sad things, she tends to frown. for some reason that bothers me. i should be more tolerant.

no. 3 was nice but her voice was so quiet, i could only hear about half of what she said. and it was difficult for me to lip read because i had to look very closely at her, and she looked a bit like my mother. I had difficulty handling that. but she may have been a perfect fit because i don’t think she heard me very well either. I spent most of my talking time talking about my tendency to be too self-critical or to always feel at fault for things. i think she was jotting down notes, but i could not tell because I was trying not to look at her.

and towards the end, she told me that she noticed a pattern. that i had a tendency to be too self-critical or to always feel at fault for things. and she asked me if I had ever noticed that before. I told her no, i had not considered that before. so i guess it was kind of like watching your mother lip sync the words you have just spoken. very disquieting and awkward. of course, I will give her another try.

and if neither of these work out. well, perhaps that is a sign that this Boston experiment maybe was not such a good idea after all.

About The Lost Pedestrian

In my wanderings throughout the moments/days/years, I try in earnest to find the mystical within the mundane and the mundane within the mystical, oftentimes confusing one from the other. I have wandered and roamed through many a city, many a town, in a state of wonder and bewilderment, without necessarily going anywhere. I am easily lost, but eventually found. (I am guessing you have just found me). My sincere hope is that you will find Something in this warehouse of thought, memory and false memory, words, numbers, tangents, murmurs, echoes (lots and lots of echoes), voices, dreams, and other paraphernalia.
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