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The Science of Woundology
Helen: Dear James, well, I am a little bit back with my lover again, so that is probably stupid.
James: It is stupid if you are stupid. I can see from your writing below that you need to sort this man/woman archetype out. It seems your mind loves romance and loves to make a big story where none is required. I tried to make sense of it, and I see ignorance and truth sitting side by side, tightly woven like a vine around a tree. It will take time for you to sort it out. If you really knew who you were – if the knowledge was direct and firm – all this romantic pathos would not be necessary. But it is good, I suppose. Lesser minds will be impressed. Nonetheless, and I can’t really be of help to you apart from listening and letting you go your own stubborn way. While your mother gave you a lot, she also took a lot from you and I don’t think she has been really laid to rest, but it is none of my business. Maybe you will learn love this way and maybe you will learn the limitations of this kind of love. It is way too complicated and convoluted for me to get my head around. For me there is no man and no woman, there is a love that cannot be jammed into limiting ideas like man and woman. Dig beneath the archetypes.
See what is there.
Helen: But I discovered that I was torn apart by two (archetypal) man-versions. The one that is you, as authority, eternal, light, irresistible and right with every justification and evidence. And the one that is him as rebel, earth, dark and irresistible too, and right without any justification or evidence. Wanting to legitimate the rebel with the authority was a disaster. But wanting to ignore the rebel by being the authority turned out to be a disaster too. So I guessed I had to learn something more, like, who is the Real Man? ☺ And this is what I learned. I wrote this out of inspiration.
James: You are still torn apart. You are a master of the science of woundology. ☺ It is a big wound, beautiful in its ugliness. Art helps, I suppose. Catharsis is the word that comes to mind. Art is a temporary healing balm on the wound, perhaps a bandage hiding it. But through our wounds the spirit enters, so it is good. It is inspirational and will be a great document when you see the confusion and rewrite it. And I am too embarrassed for you to publish it. If anyone found out who really wrote it, it would be a pity. In any case I haven’t the inclination to sort out this drama for you, not that you are asking. My way is much simpler and virtually painless, wanting in drama, however. Really, Helen, you should consider a career in the theatre. Anyway, it is lovely to hear from you. Take care.
~ Much love, James