Weary of hope while entangled in the bowels of a lost dream, I hear another voice, this one a hoarse whisper: “Love your fate.” 1
A mythopoetic inquiry into the appearance of a state of loss or mourning and amor fati, this love affair with fate—and how one is an inherent piece of the other—can awaken a form of consciousness that lives in the unconscious, that which is at the core of the birth-death-rebirth archetype, the Self. 2
Where does this voice come from? Where does it want to go? Even though I may be absent to myself, there is an underlying archetypal narrative I am intrinsically a part of. The whispering voice seems to have knowledge of this archetypal resonance in the same manner art does. It is as if a layer of the unconscious where the mythopoetic dwells continues to reveal itself in the mirror of my experience, no matter what or how I think of myself. My body emits and extends mythopoetic wisdom as the dreambody is tumbling through the wounded parts of the old story, the false myths. And so I am confronted by my own narrative, turning on me in a desperate gesture for me to awaken to the unlived life, a symbolic life that sees Psyche’s deeper intent for me.
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1. Nietzsche,Ecce Homo, 13.
2. Jung, Psychology and Religion, 187.