Journeys of a Pregnant Virgin

No pastels in Delhi, Part Two

2008-01-03T08:30:00.000-08:00

I originally wrote this entry in longhand on December 4th. (My impressions of Delhi were quite different when we returned at the end of our trip, a month later.)

Midway Blog.

Here I am - in India. Halfway through my five weeks of travel, and what a time we have had. As always, there has been the challenge of trying to take in the outer world and still not lose my sense of the inner, and while I know I've been dreaming, I have not remembered much, so that I feel a little out of touch with the inner realm at this time.

I hardly even know where to begin. From the moment our plane descended into Delhi in the eerie darkness of early morning with heavy fog and smog utterly enveloping us, I knew we were in another world. As we found our driver with "Miss Marlene" on his sign and emerged out of the airport, it was as if we'd entered a scene in Dante's Inferno. Even at 5 am, we drove into the thickest smog I have ever experienced. A dry and desolate landscape stretched out on both sides of the road and against the dusty trees, ghostlike skeletal figures moved in the grey dawn, spectral somehow, as if marking our entry into another realm. A few thin women in coloured saris, but mostly men in shabby western shirts and Indian tunics in greyed tones, as if they'd permanently absorbed the smog in the environment and were gradually turning black.

But it was the smell that assaulted me most powerfully. The acrid, almost stinging smell of endless small roadside fires, which was to haunt our four days in Delhi. There was no escaping it, not even in our guesthouse where, if anything, it seemed especially strong, filling my nostrils and throat as I was awakened at 2 am each morning by male voices chanting in the temple next door. A heavy and relentless smell, reeking of burning dung, diesel, and overcrowded humanity spilling everywhere into the streets. Of course I had heard from friends and read in India guide books of the overwhelming assault of the senses greeting the traveller to India, but nothing could have prepared me for that powerful stench of smoke which seemed timeless, as if holding both the flame and ashes of India's thousands of years of civilization and the greedy fuel consumption of an industrial India hurtling into the twenty first century - while on every corner, a small Hindu altar summoned the faithful.

Transported into another world, it felt like, a wholly other time and place, one with a rich and mythic tradition that we westerners can only envy and behold, but never really step into. A timeless dimension, and to say it is full of paradox is a weak cliche in the face of such enormous polarities. Everything in India is over the top - extravagant and extreme in relation to our carefully modulated and measured western mentality and perception: wealth and poverty (the richest men in the world are two Indian brothers); blinding opulence and staggering degradation; extremes of beauty and ugliness, those beautiful dark faces with their glowing eyes and the hardship and suffering engraved in their deep facial furrows, the spontaneous and openhearted warmth and a guile born no doubt in response to years of foreign exploitation and tourist greed.

India contains them all, these mind-bending, heart-wrenching, soul-twisting paradoxes. In the midst of everpresent heaps of dung and garbage, the wild, bold beauty of the women's saris in their unapologetic hues of electric pink and fuchsia, green, blue and turquoise, red and yellow, and the most beautiful orange I have ever seen. There are no pastels in Delhi, but every shade of brilliant colour under the hot desert sun.

And then the touts - interesting etymology - the peddlars and merchants everywhere in the dusty dirty streets, often in impossibly white and ironed clothes - shouting in our faces, "Come to my shop, Madam! Only twenty rupees, Madam, very cheap!" A massive confusion of sensory images of all kinds. (I recall that one seasoned traveller advised me, "If you must fly into Delhi, get out as fast as you can!")

Varanasi, labelled by a friend as "Very Nasty," holiest city of the Ganges, proved a disappointment. Rather than watch the world created anew at sunrise from a boat as the guidebooks suggest and as many tourist groups did, we walked across the Ghats at dawn, forever besieged by groups of children, tattered scraps of humanity sent out in the dark of morning to begin the day's begging. We felt like voyeurs at a religious ritual we simply could not understand, at once besieged by tourist-wise beggars standing in our path, tugging on our clothes, haunting any possibility of a moment's view of the Ganges.

What to write about. Food. Clothes. Customs. Sights. Weather. Conversations and unexpected encounters. Emotions. Impressions. A fresh sense of the good fortune, privilege, and abundance that we take for granted in Canada. How can I imagine a desert village only an hour or two by bumpy road out of Delhi where a woman stares blankly at a coloured pencil we offer her daughter as if not sure what it is for. Finally the little girl accepts it but without any glimmer of recognition of what it might be. Continually thrown back and forth between old and new, tribal and urban life in India.

(This was as far as I got in the "midway blog" so I will end here. Over the next days, I hope to write a reflective entry from my retrospective inner gaze as I gradually settle back into my life at home in the early days of a new year.)

No pastels in Delhi

2008-01-02T13:57:00.000-08:00

PART ONE

I have been to India, and back. I had hoped to write here from time to time and allow my friends to share a bit of the journey, but that simply did not work out. Internet access proved to be sporadic and generally expensive. When it was not expensive it was outdoors in dark corners full of mosquitoes. About halfway through my five weeks I realized I would not be writing blogs in India, but I did handwrite one which I want to post here after the fact. And since I've never posted from my mercurial desktop computer before, I will write several short blogs rather than a single long one. I don't want to risk losing material.

December 23rd was the date of my return and I am only now beginning to feel like myself again. Travel back was gruelling with two ten hour flights (starting at 3 am in Delhi) separated by a ten hour layover at Heathrow Airport. With the thirteen and a half hour time difference, that means about 55 hours without sleep, except for a couple of hours during the first flight. No doubt that contributed to the heavy cold that is just beginning to abate now. But I think I only understood yesterday how liminal I have been feeling since my return, as if part of me has been hovering over the Arabian Sea and only gradually drifting homeward. During our New Year's Eve walk on the beach we encountered an Indian lady in traditional dress and I felt like throwing my arms around her as if I'd been homesick for the look of Hindu women. Maybe I have been! Several nights before my return I dreamed that I saw a young Indian man in Canada and enthusiastically told him that I had just returned from India and that I loved the country.

(I think I will pause here and post, just to be sure this is working!)

Scintillae

2007-06-23T06:29:00.000-07:00

On Thursday I had my last exam, in Fundamentals of Jungian Psychology, and afterward I felt fully relaxed for the first time since I arrived in Zurich at the end of April. Yesterday was one of the sweetest and most peaceful days I have had in a while. I decided to do only what I wanted to, and what I wanted, it turned out, was a long talk with a close friend in Vancouver and then solitude, a long walk (which was somewhat thwarted by a second day of dark torrential downpours) and time to reimmerse myself in all three essays I've written in Zurich, with thoughts of where I might go from here in my writing. Another long talk with Steve, and Marianne had invited an old friend for dinner. We had a lovely meal together and good conversation. I am ongoingly grateful for the way I have been accepted into the heart of this home, and the new friendships have added something lovely and unexpected to my time in Zurich.

Now I'm counting down to my departure next Wednesday, with a lecture this morning still remaining, and mostly sorting, packing, and cleaning ahead in the next few days. My time at ISAP has been characterized by a very clear sense of "one semester at a time" and each time I've left Zurich at the end of term there has been a question in the background about whether and when I'll return. But this time it's serious. I truly don't know, which makes packing a challenge. Do I bring everything home, or leave my usual two boxes in storage?

My time here has been rich and deep in so many ways. But it may have run its course. I am hoping that my unconscious will show me the direction over the next couple of months, either through my dreams or through a growing sense of inner clarity concerning my next step. At 53 (and with a friend in hospital here after repeat cancer surgery) I am very aware of the preciousness of time, and there is so much living yet to be done. I don't feel I can really say more about this right now, but only that my dreams (for which I have growing appreciation, respect, and even love) seem to be pointing toward reserves of creative vitality and potential which I am very eager to bring into reality. Whatever form that may take, and wherever that may happen. I can say that the excessive rules and regulations of this Jungian institution and collective (quite antithetical to Jung's philosophy) have mobilized a kind of compensatory passion for freedom and self-expression that may prove to be one of the gifts of ISAP for me. I am usually simmering several ideas and projects at any given time but this seems to be a particularly fertile stretch and one of the tasks of my summer will be to get a felt sense of what is foremost and what will have to wait.

As usual my exam preparation has yielded many provocative and beautiful quotes. For example, Jung describes the "scintilla, the soul-spark, the little wisp of divine light that never burns more brightly than when it has to struggle against the invading darkness." I find this a beautiful image of the soul's passion to live its truth despite all the external and sometimes internal odds!

In another passage Jung writes of "Gideon's dew," or "the moisture that heralds the return of the soul," and describes intuition as the part of us that "revels in the garden of magical possibilities as if they were real." Which, in a sense, they are, of course. It is only the literal, rational mind that fails to apprehend that garden and robs our imaginal realm of its reality. I hadn't really thought of Jung's writing as poetic before, but the intense immersion of exam preparation has yielded many metaphors and turns of phrase that delight with their suggestiveness.

And with that, my friends, I leave you for now. If time permits I will sign off before heading home on Wednesday; otherwise, thank you for dropping by, be well during this first week of summer, and don't forget to step into the garden of magical possibilities sometime soon!

Marlene

Sunday morning musings

2007-06-10T09:15:00.000-07:00

The sun is shining and it promises to be a very warm early summer day in Zurich. I will be indoors for a six hour movement workshop today, but I'll enjoy the 45 minute walk down the hill and along the water's edge to get to the beautiful mansion where it takes place. Meanwhile I want to write a few lines here and say that I have completed the first four of my five Propideutikum (mid-training) exams and all is well. I am happy to report that I have enjoyed the process of preparing and then engaging in lively discussion of the four topics, although half an hour is a very short amount of time to delve into the material concerned.

I see more clearly now that the exams really are as much an initiation process as an objective assessment of one's knowledge of Jungian theory. Since the Ethnology and Comparative Religion exams consisted of short discussions of two essays I'd written beforehand - "The Role of Song in Contemporary European Roma/Gypsy Culture," and "Dark Sisters: Kali and the Black Madonna," respectively - these were not strictly "exams" as such, but still the ritual exam date and time were established and the formalities observed. All things considered it was not a stressful process but I am also glad it is now done. I have ten days to prepare for the last exam in this round and the reading, consisting mostly of Jung, will be stimulating.

Already I am seeing Zurich through the eyes of one preparing to leave again, and realizing what a bond I have developed with this beautiful city of lilacs and roses. As I return home to Vancouver with all I love there, I know Zurich is a soul-home for me, something I have not felt anywhere else except in Vancouver. My life is far simpler and easier here in many ways, but it is also Steve-less, which I can only take for so long. Still it's nice to know that while some of my friends dream of affording a pied a terre in Zurich, I can return anytime to my sweet little room on Hochstrasse at a more than reasonable rent and with good company to boot.

My reward after passing all four exams with flying colours was to begin reading another of James Hillman's books, THE THOUGHT OF THE HEART AND THE SOUL OF THE WORLD. No longer a "Christian" in the old sense that I grew up with, I have no desire to be any kind of "---ian" again; whether Jung-ian, Woodman-ian, or Hillman-ian. Indeed, to claim (other than with humour) identity with any of these is counter-intuitive altogether. But it doesn't mean I don't resonate passionately with their writing and soul-essences, and Hillman, newest to me, continues to delight and amaze me with the eros and poetry of his writing. Here are excerpts of my current reading, straight from my journal (minus the beautiful fuchsia and dark green shades of ink) as the Sunday churchbells chime in the distance...

"The whole endeavor of retrieving projections - that major enterprise of analytical practice - could become irrelevant once the theory of the heart were to shift from its personalistic basis. We would then recognize much of what we call projection to be an attempt by the psyche to experience things beyond ourselves as imaginal presences, an attempt to restore both heart and image to things."

"Confessional psychology misses the fact that I am already revealed in my 'Selbstdarstellung.' Revelation already given with existence - not a task. Every move we make, phrase we utter, is confession of our heart because it reveals our images. Heart is manifest in the fantasies displayed in my life, not only concealed in my depths."

"How is it possible that beauty has played such a central and obvious part in the history of the soul and its thoughts, and yet is absent in modern psychology? ... If beauty is not given full place in our work with psyche, then the soul's essential realization cannot occur.... If beauty is inherent and essential to soul, then beauty appears wherever soul appears. That revelation of soul's essence, the actual showing forth of Aphrodite in psyche, her smile, is called in mortal language 'beauty'."

And - I think the recognition and celebration of our own souls' essential beauty is a good place to close for now. Thank you for stopping by.
Marlene

Mid-way

2007-06-01T16:37:00.000-07:00

Here I am, on a very wet, grey Zurich Friday afternoon, cozy in my little room. John Denver is singing in the background with his beautiful joyous voice and those straight-from-the-heart lyrics..."You fill up my senses like a night in the forest...like a walk in the rain..." I'd hoped the sun would shine today so I could march right up the Zurichberg and rid my body of some of the adrenalin it has been pumping all week in preparation for my Ethnology exam yesterday afternoon and then the Dream exam this morning.

So this is Propideuticum process. Two exams down, six to go. Three more this semester and then we'll see. The exams were pleasant enough but actually a bit anticlimactic. I had prepared very thoroughly and enthusiastically and there's only so much that can be discussed in half an hour. For the first exam I'd written a paper on the role of song in contemporary European Roma/Gypsy culture, and we really did not delve very deeply into the topic, though I'd reread all of my source material in preparation. That was a little disappointing, to be sure. But I'm glad the first two are behind me and I have the weekend to prepare for the next one on Tuesday morning.

After six weeks of fairly focussed time, I decided finally to see Sarah Polley's film, "Away From Her" this afternoon. The film itself is moving, with a radiant and heartbreaking performance from a beautiful older Julie Christie, but after fifteen minutes of ear shattering mindless commercials to begin, and a totally senseless fifteen minute intermission in the middle of a 100 minute movie (having paid $20 for a 2 pm matinee), I was so disgusted that I may never see another movie in Zurich again. It's not an upbeat movie either but it is truthful, poignant, and bittersweet, with some very lyrical moments.

I feel fired with all kinds of creative inspirations (likely a reaction to all the rules and regulations of ISAP) and look forward to developing some of them when I get back to Vancouver at the end of June. I do think that the clash and tension between my freedom-loving gypsy soul and the most highly regulation-infested training program I have ever been involved with has generated quite an intensity of creative energy. Perhaps that is not a bad thing to take away with me from Zurich.

Here are some lovely and atypically un-Jungian quotes I've stumbled across lately.

"When in doubt, make a fool of yourself. There is a microscopically thin line between being brilliantly creative and acting like the most gigantic idiot on earth. So what the hell, leap!" Cynthia Heimel

"To live content with small means. To seek elegance rather than luxury.... listen to stars and birds and babes and sages with an open heart. To study hard, think quietly, act frankly, talk gently, await occasions. Never hurry. In a word, to let the spiritual, the unbidden and the unconscious rise up through the common. This is my symphony." William Henry Channing

Last not least! I like this one.
"Imagination is intelligence with an erection." Victor Hugo
Now, I think this is probably true for women - getting that animus working for us (I think I just went Jungian). But what is it for men, I wonder? Maybe the well-lubricated and moistened feminine intelligence of the anima?!

And with that, I will close for now. Wish me luck for the next three exams - I'll be back.
Meanwhile, let's all risk that leap!
Marlene

Dark Sisters

2007-05-15T07:22:00.000-07:00

It has been such a long time since I last wrote here that I imagine my friends have given up on me! But here I am, back in Zurich since April 20th, and feeling free enough at last to write a few lines. I arrived to a preview of summer, with temperatures in the low and mid 70s and lilac in full bloom everywhere, their enchanting scent wafting through the streets as I walked. Marianne and Nic (landlady and partner) flew to Morocco for a week the morning after I arrived so I was able to settle in quietly and begin working on my Comparative Religion paper in earnest. And that, dear Reader, is what I have been doing these three weeks.

I wrote on Kali and the Black Madonna and their shared essence as "Dark Sisters" in their respective mythologies and also to each other. And to me, of course. A bit shocked about just how much I didn't know about Hinduism (and how much there was to know!) I immersed myself and read as much as I could. But I've got four other exams to study for and the first is on May 31st, so I had to call a halt to the reading and writing and submitted the paper, all forty pages of it, to my examining Reader yesterday. But decided before I plunge into Dreams and Fairy Tales, I want at least to announce my presence in Zurich for my fourth semester now.

As with the Gypsy Symbol paper, I was surprised again how much I enjoyed doing both the research and writing of this paper, even though I see its shortcomings and know it could be much better if I had more time. But it IS an essay, not an article (yet) and there will be time to edit and improve it later if I want to. As usual, it provided an opportunity to weave in many beautiful quotes from other people's writing and I will share just a few here for your enjoyment. Starting with the simple statement from Jung that "The secret is that only that which can destroy itself is fully alive." Now there is something to contemplate!

Here are a few more - some may be familiar to you. I won't comment much but just share the quotes themselves.

First from Marion Woodman, writing about the dark goddess: "This goddess may take many forms [in our dreams]. Usually she is black or oriental or simply dark. She may appear as a proud gypsy, a dancer in a tavern, a sacred prostitute, a Mary Magdalene. Always she is outside the collective value system of the dreamer's conscious world...and carries immense potential for new life."

Here is a beautiful statement that I also keep coming back to, from David Kinsley, scholar of Hinduism: "To ignore death, to pretend that one is physically immortal, to pretend that one's ego is the center of things, is to provoke Kali's mocking laughter.... To accept one's mortality is to be able to act superfluously, to let go, to be able to sing, dance, and shout." (I love the notion of acting superfluously!)

And from James Hillman, writing about the "etymon" or hidden truth of a name buried in its roots: "The search for the roots of words, the etymological fantasy, is one of the basic rituals of the imaginative tradition because it seeks to recover an image within a word.... In their names are their souls."

Meister Eckhart: "The ground of the soul is dark."

Finally, a long one. A poem by Pablo Neruda which expresses the longing for darkness so beautifully that it redeems the sadness itself for me.

“To Sadness/II”

Sadness, I need
your black wing.
So much honey in the topaz
each ray smiling
in the wide fields
and all an abundant light about me,
all an electric whir in the high air.
And so give me your black wing,
sister sadness.
I need sometimes to have the sapphire
extinguished and to have
the angled mesh of the rain fall,
the weeping of the earth….Now I am missing
the black light.
Give me your slow blood,
cold
rain,
Spread over me your fearful wing!
Into my care
give back the key
of the closed door,
the ruined door.
For a moment, for
a short lifetime,
remove my light and leave me
to feel myself
abandoned, wretched,
trembling in the web
of twilight,
receiving into my being
the quivering
hands
of
the
rain.

I hope, one of these months, to get a simple website up and running and then I can post the entire essay for anyone interested in this "Dark" topic. Meanwhile, I hope you have enjoyed these brief quotes.

With four exams taking place between May 31st and June 7th and then another on June 21st, I won't be writing here often but I will certainly be back at some time in the next few weeks, lest anyone is still checking in on me! Meanwhile, thanks for not giving up, and all the best until next time.
Marlene

Liminal, again

2007-02-17T12:20:00.000-08:00

It is a beautiful early Spring day in Zurich and I have just returned from the Hauptbahnhof where I purchased a large bag to hold some of the things I want to leave in storage for the next two months. On Wednesday morning I'll return to Vancouver for seven or eight weeks before coming back for the summer semester (and five exams) in the middle of April. It has been a very busy time as I've lined up examiners and scheduled the famous "Vorbesprechung" which each of them (one more to go, tomorrow afternoon), wherein they tell me what they will want me to know for the exam. So far I have been pleasantly surprised that there appears to be some regard for what holds particular interest for me, as well. I'm looking forward to writing the Ethnology and Comparative Religion essays that will constitute the basis of those two exams, and have begun to delve into some of the relevant materials, which are also related at some deep level to the Gypsy symbol paper. But more on that later.

While walking down the many steps and stairs toward the Limmat river this morning I thought again, as I so often do, how much I love this beautiful city. There is a calm gentility here that reflects both the conservative nature of the country and its historically neutral position in the heart of the European landscape. (Not that the Swiss don't have their own shadow traits, of which the lingering suppression of women's rights and their treatment of the Roma are only two examples). But I am grateful to have these months here with the natural beauty so essential to my soul in abundant evidence all around me.

Indeed, I am in liminal space yet again - one foot in Zurich and the other almost out the door as I pack up my little room and prepare to fly home to Vancouver. The Gypsy loves it. Hestia in me just wants to dwell solidly on the earth, tend the inner hearth, and cook soup. Maybe even sew another gypsy skirt. It has been many years since I created the last one, after all, and the Gypsy now has other colours in her soul.

I don't know if I'll manage that in Vancouver this time. My mother will undergo the first of two knee replacement surgeries on the very day I fly home and will require some care. I am scheduled to teach three courses as well, and Ursula and I have our weekend workshop for the Jung Society at the end of March. And of course I want lots of time with Steve - at the same time as I write those two papers and see a few friends. It sounds a little overwhelming in fact, but not impossible, I hope.

Yesterday a new friend at ISAP passed on this lovely poem by Rumi, and it is here that I will close for now. Perhaps its generosity will touch you as it does me.

ZERO CIRCLE

Be helpless, dumbfounded,
Unable to say yes or no.
Then a stretcher will come from grace to gather us up.

We are too dull-eyed to see that beauty.
If we say we can, we're lying.
If we say No, we don't see it,
That No will behead us
And shut tight our window onto spirit.

So let us rather not be sure of anything,
Beside ourselves, and only that, so
Miraculous beings come running to help.
Crazed, lying in a zero circle, mute,
We shall be saying finally,
With tremendous eloquence, Lead us.
When we have totally surrendered to that beauty,
We shall be a mighty kindness.

How Rumi's words glide effortlessly past the rational evaluation of my intellect and flow directly into my heart and bodysoul. This poem itself is a mighty kindness.

Until next time, probably in April, I imagine, best wishes to all who visit here. Meanwhile, as the need arises, may we all be met by "Miraculous beings come running to help..."

Marlene

Images we live by

2007-01-22T18:34:00.000-08:00

Here I am, much later into January than I'd hoped, but not too late to wish you, who may check in, a very happy and soulful new year! Apparently the Swiss don't do it after the first week of January, but I persist even into February and March when I greet a friend for the first time in a new year.

My three weeks in Vancouver flew by, partly because I was writing the symbol paper whenever I could. Now that I have finished and submitted it, I feel freer to say that I wrote on the archetypal image of the Gypsy - certainly one of the richest "symbols" of my life. The essay is titled "Shimmering Darkly: Following the Gypsy," and I am very content with it. It is absolutely "true" in the sense of expressing as fully and gracefully as I could, what I wanted to say. And the more I wrote, the more there seemed to be to say, which I take as a clear indication that there is more richness there for me. I wrote about my affinity with the Gypsy toward the end of SIMPLE DAYS, but this was a thirty page essay and I loved swimming in those deep dark shimmering waters. In the middle of writing I discovered with great pleasure that Loreena McKennitt had just released a new collection of her magical gypsy music, so every evening I danced to her haunting and beautiful caravan melodies, often with Steve. The entire process had a numinous feeling to it. (And it is a lovely bonus that my "Reader," an eminent Jungian analyst and writer, read the whole essay within a few hours of receiving it and promptly emailed me that he loved it!) Dearer still however were the heartfelt praise and appreciation of Steve and several dear friends who dropped everything to read it immediately as well.

I celebrated by taking a trainride into the Alps with Wendy on the weekend - how beautiful that was! I survived the claustrophobic cable cars and once we settled into our cozy room with its view of snowy peaks so near by, I promptly fell asleep mid-afternoon. Which, dear Reader, is unheard of for this semi-insomniac who never sleeps during the day and not all that well at night either. While Wendy went out on the snowy trail I dozed and dreamed under my soft white Swiss duvet, and everytime I opened my eyes, the glory of that mountain was still there like a giant sheltering friend. An hour and a half later I finally roused myself and we went down to a splendid dinner buffet the likes of which I have not seen before in Switzerland. Indulge I did, and with no regret either! I haven't had chocolate mousse that good in quite a while.

Now I am making arrangements for the mid-training exams which I will take in the summer, and awaiting Steve's arrival in a week. These remaining four weeks will fly by.

As usual I have been finding wonderful quotes in the course of my reading, and I will finish this brief catchup entry with one of them. I have been very appreciative of James Hillman's writing lately, so here goes. There is a passion and daring in his work which thrills me at times although this brief quote may not convey that. But I love it anyway.

“Not only the literal flesh, which is neither irrational nor errant but an ancient animal full of grace, binds us; but rather the soul in which that flesh has its life. The image by which the flesh lives is the ultimate ruling necessity. We are in service to the body of imagination, the bodies of our images.”

How I love the image of my body, our bodies, as "ancient animals full of grace!"

And with those lovely words, I will sign off for now. With greetings and best wishes to all...
Marlene

Leaving

2006-12-12T20:18:00.000-08:00

Suddenly it is mid-December and I am heading home tomorrow morning, home into the warm and eager arms of my beloved. In just twenty four hours I will be flying over the Rockies, counting down the minutes to our reunion. Somehow the last few days apart are always the toughest for me - perhaps because I have gradually been withdrawing my energy from Zurich and sent it flowing toward my Vancouver life, without my actually being there yet.

Despite a terrible virus which struck the night I returned from Geneva, I have had a rich and happy six weeks here. Marianne and Nic were in India for two weeks and even though the house is still in major disarray due to extensive renovations, I utterly and completely enjoyed the solitude. Getting up early in the dark to make a cup of coffee (I couldn't sleep because of endless coughing fits) and listening to Bach in the early dawn hours, all alone with my thoughts and occasional dreams, this was the best medicine.

I have also been working on my Symbol paper with relish and enjoyment. When it's complete I will say more - I'm superstitious enough to want to let it simmer quietly in these early creative stages. It has been a while since I felt such soulful engagement with a writing project and I am thoroughly engrossed and engaged.

As I mentioned in a previous post, most of what is important here in my life in Zurich is very personal and not easily divulged in such a public forum. I'm writing just to say I'm still alive and well, and hope to have a more constant presence here in the new year. And to wish all who may read these lines a very Happy Christmas and Holiday season. May something new be born in each of our souls this winter, may we nourish it with tenderness and care, and may the new year be rich with the love we offer and receive from each other.

with warm greetings to all,
Marlene

Kindergarten

2006-11-24T17:33:00.000-08:00

Although I hoped to write again last Sunday, I returned from Geneva later than expected that evening and then plunged into another busy week. Suddenly it's Friday afternoon and it occurs to me that this weekend is also shaping up to be quite full so I will write at least a few lines now, lest another week pass by without comment.

It was great to be in Geneva with David and Jana, Jonas and Hannah. I can also see the early promise of their little brother or sister in Jana's gently rounding outline (Jana and I say it's a girl). Both children informed me repeatedly that there is a baby growing in Mama's belly, and Hannah asks her Mama regularly, "How is your baby doing?" They are lovely kids, wide-eyed and alert, full of curiousity and mischief, and very affectionate. Hannah looks like a little gypsy with her soft brown curls and huge dark eyes. Although they speak German and English, their English is sometimes a literal translation from German and makes for some wonderfully amusing conversations. But I can also sense how utterly all-consuming and exhausting their care must be, and Jana and David are both working outside the home as well.

Highlight of the week was - no question about it - a four hour afternoon and evening expressive arts seminar in which we drew, coloured, wrote animal stories, painted some more, and finished off by writing haiku. After a particularly dense and theoretical lecture in the morning (also interesting but my brain hurt by the end) it was absolutely delightful to feel like a kid in a kindergarten class (I never went to kindergarten but they say it's never too late...) and to look around and see several seventy year old classmates equally engrossed. No one having to say anything insightful or intelligent - just lost in play. We could use a few more seminars like that around here!

Meanwhile, my inner work with dreams and movement is proceeding richly. It is so fascinating to explore different ways of working with dreams and observe what each brings by way of experience and insight. My respect for dreams continues to grow. What fascinating worlds we carry within us!

Perhaps I'll wrap up with three haiku, my first ever. These are a response to the second drawing I did, in which we were asked to compose a scene depicting our birth family as animals.

1.
Colour vibrates here
Around the creatures softly
One green field of peace.

2.
Water, mountains, trees
At home in this green heaven
You can move with joy.

3.
Trees on the skyline
Restore the weary creatures
No one feels alone.

I'm not sure about the sequence but this is the order in which they came to me - so be it.

Enough for now. It's time to run upstairs and help Marianne with the salad for a family dinner here before she and Nic (her boyfriend) leave for India in the morning, and I get the house to myself for the next two weeks. Until next time, peace and all good things to you who enter here.

November update

2006-11-12T08:15:00.000-08:00

Here I am, back in Zurich, on a dark, wet, November Sunday morning. I have been back almost two weeks. Last Sunday I began to write an entry but realized that I wasn't ready to take up this blog again, so I let it be. I'm still not sure I'm ready to go public, but I'm writing anyway, to see how it feels.

I think my reluctance has to do with the fact that what is most important to me right now is going on in the soul realm and has to be contained. But since a number of you, my dear friends, have expressed disappointment at checking this blogspot in vain, and I do find this a good way to keep in touch, I will give it a go, after these many months.

Perhaps a brief update is in order. My dear Mum had open heart surgery (quintupple bypass and aortic valve replacement) on June 6th and has been recovering ever since. Although her recovery continues, she was stable enough that I felt comfortable picking up my Jungian studies in Zurich again. Thankfully, I was able to return to my cozy little room next to the Institute, where I can run across the path to class without a coat or umbrella, even in the rain. I'm amazed again by my good fortune in finding this room in a city of high housing costs and low vacancy rates! It could hardly be more ideal for my purposes and it was lovely to be welcomed back warmly by Marianne, my landlady, who certainly could have rented it out to someone else in my absence. We have resumed our habit of enjoying a glass of red wine together and making enormous shared salads for supper most evenings.

The lectures and seminars at ISAP have been interesting and engaging thus far this semester. I have decided to be more selective, after attending almost everything on offer during my previous two terms, because I want to begin researching and reading for the required "Symbol paper" and also for the "Propideutikum" (midway) exams that I may be taking next summer - if I continue. That is still the big unknown. I have been doing this one semester at a time, always open to the possibility that at any point I may decide not to carry on.

There are more students this semester than last year at this time and I Iike this very much - especially since many of the new ones are mature (meaning my age or older!) and provide a welcome gentle balance to the sparkling younger folk with their goal oriented fervour and intensity. I appreciate the variety of ages and cultural backgrounds and not least, the fact that there are now a few men in the lectures and seminars, five out of twenty five in Judith Harris' Reading Seminar last week, to be exact. Still not a balance, but much better than last semester when there were often six or eight women and no men at all.

So far I have not been out in Zurich much, other than for my usual hour long walk through the city most mornings or afternoons. But yesterday Wendy and I went to a beautiful Egyptian movie called "Dunia," about a young woman searching for her authentic identity in modern Egypt (a lyrical meditation on the Virgin archetype), and then had an early supper and wonderful conversation in a nearby restaurant. There is so much rich cultural life on offer here and I do want to take advantage of some concerts, in particular. This afternoon Vicki and I may go to the Kunsthaus (which I have not visited yet because it was undergoing renovations last semester) and plan a few other outings for the next month or two. I can't imagine ever feeling bored in Zurich (not that I do in Vancouver either, for that matter)!

The coming week also looks full. In addition to the usual lectures and seminars, I'm hoping to get out to the Kusnacht Institute library to do some preliminary reasearch, and I will be visiting my feisty retired Jungian analyst friend, Sonja, on Thursday. Then I may jump on a train to Geneva on the weekend to visit my stepson David and his family, if it suits them. It's hard to believe they are only a few hours away now, since their move from Leipzig earlier this year. With Zurich, Geneva, and Vancouver consistently ranked as the top three cities in the world for quality of life, I like to remind Steve that we have all three bases covered, at the moment!

Enough. I would like to close with a quote, and here is one that struck me in the Reading Seminar, from CGJ himself.

"It is immediately clear to the psychologist what cathartic and at the same time rejuvenating effects must flow from the Demeter cult into the feminine psyche, and what a lack of psychic hygiene characterizes our culture, which no longer knows the kind of wholesome experience afforded by Eleusinian emotions."

In particular this passage struck me in terms of the Body Soul Rhythms work I have been doing over the past six years, and also as inspiration for my own teaching and for the workshops Ursula and I have been creating together.

Until next time, all the best to you who read these lines! Have a good week.

Vancouver update

2006-04-25T20:14:00.000-07:00

It is Tuesday, April 25th, one week after the first day of the Summer Semester at ISAP, and I am sitting in front of my bulky old Gateway computer at home in Vancouver. My mother's open heart surgery has been postponed yet again and I could not return to Zurich with such uncertainty in our lives. Depending on whether she goes into the hospital in May and how she fares after the surgery, I may yet fly to Zurich in June for a month or six weeks, but the greater likelihood is that I will request a leave of absence for this semester and return in October. If anything changes, I will surely communicate it here.
Thank you to all who check on me here from time to time. I'll be back.
Marlene

Fare Well

2006-02-18T15:52:00.000-08:00

It's Saturday afternoon, almost 4 pm, and I am packed and ready to fly. Mark Knopfler ("Dire Straits") is serenading me with "Your Golden Heart" and I feel he is singing to me. "Nothing in the world prepared me for, your heart, your heart, Nothing in the world that I love more your heart, your heart, your golden heart." Sung deep and mellow, with wonderful acoustic guitar and drums. I love the gruff tenderness and soulful eros of his voice. In fact, discovering his solos albums, "Sailing to Philadelphia" and "Golden Heart" was actually a high point of these six weeks in Zurich. I think I've listened and danced to "What It Is" at least two or three times every day since I first heard it. (If I was not seriously computer challenged I could probably find a way to create a link to those two songs but that's a whole other story....)

One of the strange ironies of life in my two little rooms in Zurich thus far has been that although Steve and I both love music, I actually listen much more here than in Vancouver. I also dance more here. Maybe that will change in the next few months at home. In fact, I wish there were far more occasions to dance to rousing music with a good strong beat, and although every time I express that desire it meets a strong echo in other people's experience, none of us can quite figure out what to do about it. All I know is that the older I grow, the more my body wants to dance with abandon. And just dancing alone in my room isn't enough - I want the shared experience as well.

I did my ritual goodbye-to-Zurich walk earlier this afternoon but did not go into Spruengli for a last coffee, preferring to come back to my room instead. Last night Vicki cooked me a lovely goodbye dinner and we talked for the last time in a while. Hers is quite a different experience of Zurich as she has basically moved here for a couple of years and returns home to New England only for shorter visits. At times yesterday I felt uncomfortably liminal - as if I literally had one foot in Zurich and the other already in Vancouver.That's quite a stretch. The upside of my Zurich adventure is the richness of having both lives at once and I have been aware of my great good fortune in not having to give up either. But yesterday I also felt it's not easy to be forever saying hellos and goodbyes in a relatively short span of several months, each time leaving behind something dear and important and integral to my life. I'm not complaining but this is also part of my psychic reality at the moment, along with the richness of it all.

At the moment the sun is streaming into my window so brilliantly that I can hardly see the computer screen, and I can almost feel the warm breeze of a beautiful day in June as I sit on the balcony upstairs and read my Jung texts. Now there is something I look forward to, during my next period here. Last summer I could not find a place to sit in the sun, undisturbed, and read.

But now - it's home to Vancouver, Steve, and my other world, much more outwardly active than these quiet three months in Zurich have been. It has felt like a hibernation of sorts, but unlike the bear who shuts down in the cold of winter and lives off his fat reserves, I have chocolated my way through the weeks and look forward to more physical activity and energy as spring draws closer. My dreams seem to be pointing in this direction as well, so I will keep looking for times and places to dance. And perhaps I'll even see you there!

That's all for now, friends. Again I leave these lines with gratitude and appreciation for this part of my journey and will return at the end of April when I resume my time in Zurich.

Until then, stay warm and cozy, and Happy Spring to all.

Briefly...

2006-02-13T07:14:00.000-08:00

It is early Monday morning, still dark (and very cold) out. Two weekend seminars kept me busy and prevented my usual leisurely Sunday morning entry here. On Saturday we completed Murray Stein's three part series on Individuation, and on Sunday, we had a follow up seminar on the limbic system and religious experience, led by an Italian analyst who is also a psychiatrist. Both she and Murray Stein are good teachers, by which I mean they are clear in their discussion of complex material, and very willing to answer questions and enter dialogue with their audience. And both, in their own ways, create a rapport that is not to be taken for granted. For me, as a teacher, it is always fascinating to see how this happens. Murray Stein does it through a kind of quiet openness and humour, combined with a wealth of interesting stories about Jung and the Jungian world (a term that Jung himself would have hated). He is surely a big wheel in this particular "world" but there is no power principle at work. Rafaello Colombo's style is very dynamic and intense, in part because she is often searching for the English equivalent for her Italian thoughts, but there is also a quick humour at play. "Do you understand me?" she asked frequently with heartfelt concern. The whole notion that neural pathways are forged through repeated experience appears to have fascinating implications for analytic work, and will give me plenty to think about in the days to come.

Otherwise, the past week was punctuated on Wednesday by a brief but most welcome visit with David (stepson), who stopped off in Zurich after a job interview in Geneva before returning to Leipzig. David very quickly received and accepted the job offer so he and Jana will be very busy over the next few months planning how best to relocate themselves and their two little ones with the least possible discomfort and distress, while at the same time bringing things to a satisfying close in Leipzig. It's hard enough to do this on one's own but when there are four people, two small children, and two careers at stake, the challenges increase exponentially, I am sure.

Shortly after accompanying David to the Hauptbahnhof, I proceeded to have dinner with Vicki and Margo, two new east coast American friends. Five hours flew by with nary a lull in the discussion. I thoroughly enjoyed hearing their perspectives on our shared training adventure and feelings about living in Switzerland. I think all three of us share a certain introversion and intensity and it was lovely to feel a sense of common ground and safety in the conversational flow. I always appreciate it when everyone speaks and listens with equal relish and that was certainly the case.

It's time now to get into the hot shower and out into the cold day, and I will come to an unceremonious halt and finish with a quote that has puzzled me since I read it a couple of days ago. I don't particularly like what Jung is saying here, but since I think it may hold a truth I have not considered before, I will offer it here.

"As we know, a complex can be really overcome only if it is lived out to the full. In other words, if we are to develop further we have to draw to us and drink down to the very dregs what, because of our complexes, we have held at a distance." (CW 9/1, para 184)

This sounds like quite a challenge. I will be giving serious thought to what it is I need to draw to me and "drink down to the very dregs", rather than pushing it away in favour of more pleasant activities.

With good wishes for the coming week to all who read these lines.

Hands

2006-02-05T10:51:00.000-08:00

Once again, more quickly than usual it seems, it is Sunday morning and I am here with my sunflower yellow mug of hot coffee and a rousing Charpentier cantata resonating through my little speakers. And now I am a little further along that descending arc of time that will carry me to Vancouver in two weeks and I will experience my time here in terms of days rather than weeks.

The past week had a lovely pace and rhythm. There was something of interest each day by way of lecture and seminar, but also time for reading and writing, walking, a long and irreverent lunch with Vicki on Friday, and finally, a visit to my friend in Forch yesterday and good rousing discussion as always. Fuelled no doubt by the delicious chocolate truffle cake I took along and endless cups of coffee. The week's balance of solitude and society suited me well.

The most important event for me was without question finally arriving at a decision about my "Training Analyst." At least in theory this is the most important dimension of the entire Analyst Training Program and I have been pondering it since I first arrived in Zurich last April as a matriculated auditor. Once I was accepted as a training candidate this issue took center stage in my inner life but I was determined not to rush it, but rather to be receptive to various possibilities and wait for a sure sense of when and in which direction to move. And now I know, and I have the sense of having dropped in even more deeply on both the personal and professional levels of my training process in Zurich. In the interests of "containment," I won't go into further detail, but this was too significant a highlight of my week not to have mentioned it at all.

Among the books I have been dipping into recently is Gertrud Mueller Nelson's wonderful HERE ALL DWELL FREE, on how to work with fairy tales on a symbolic level. I have loved this book since I happened upon it in my favourite Vancouver used bookstore, but this was my first occasion to read her entire 170 page exploration and amplification of "The Handless Maiden," the story of a miller's daughter whose father chops off her hands in a pact with the Devil in order to save his own life, and who is subsequently given silver hands by the King who falls in love with this beautiful maiden. But of course they are not "her" hands in any genuine sense, and GMN offers a lovely and heartfelt exploration of this tale's symbolic resonance for us today. Without further comment or interpretation, here are a few of the passages that touched me during my reading.

"This 'taking of time' and 'the time it takes' to be handy in this way are also endangered values. When we TOOK time - had 'time on our hands' - I think we had a greater chance of restoring those hands to flesh. What is too much and too fast in our lives today interferes with processing the simple happenings of everyday living. It robs us of challenge and takes away purpose in simple acts. And our notion that the value of silver supersedes the value of simple, common flesh lets us forget that we do still need healing.... The object of life is to live it with feeling and passion and art - minutely - because without the paper scraps, the sticks and rags and soups, without sunrises, or compost piles, without babies, and loves, without spinning an atmosphere for family, neighbors, and friends, there is no taste of God." (p.91)

"And being human is really all that is asked of us. We always want to forget that. We always think that we have to be superhuman and then berate ourselves for failing that expectation. So that's why we have symbols and rituals, like ashes and graces and sacraments. They are there to remind us and help us and ground us.... As always, the Word must be made flesh - our sterling gestures turned to human, loving acts - the divine made incarnate in our love and dogged faithfulness to each other. In grace and sacrament we transform experience to meaning. And meaning will give form to our actions. There is no other container for the spirit than the life we live out daily." (pp.131-32)

"Freedom...is not being rid of responsibilities; it is being free of random shoulds and oughts. Freedom doesn't dwell in randomness but in conscious choice." (p. 145)

I could not end with better words, so until next Sunday, may we all be well, live well, and remember to "take" some time!

Midpoint

2006-01-29T11:30:00.000-08:00

Today is the exact midpoint of my post-holiday six weeks in Zurich. Three weeks from today I will be in the air, returning to beautiful Vancouver and to Steve's radiant face at the end of the International Arrivals walkway. That's always a lovely moment - when I see his beaming countenance welcoming me home. Well, with this beginning I think I've just blurred the line between "blog" and journal entry, but I don't care. I felt like starting with that image!

I like the symmetry of being at the midpoint. Since I actually left on a Monday and arrived the next day, technically the midpoint is tomorrow, but psychologically it is today - three weeks gone by and three more to go. I like the arc and rhythm of these six week stints in Zurich. I arrive, try to go a little easy because of jetlag, settle into a rhythm of seminars, walks, writing, reading, soupmaking, and coffees with friends. Then it's already midway (today) and my energy begins to move along the descending part of the arc of my time here, and a tiny part of me is beginning to anticipate and move toward my return to Vancouver. Well, I'm not at all satisfied with that description and I have not managed to convey at all how visceral this experience is. It's definitely in my body, a felt internal sense-image of curvature through time. Life certainly does not get boring with all this movement and change, but sometimes I wonder how different this Zurich exerience would be if I were here continuously for a year or two and really settled into an ongoing life and sense of belonging here. That won't happen and I don't regret it, but I'm curious. I like the intense immersion of shorter periods here for 6-12 weeks at a time, followed by slightly longer stays in Vancouver, where my other life resumes and continues. I love having both and don't want to give up either. There's my love of balance and symmetry again, I suppose.

It's still cold out but the sun is shining and I'll head out shortly and not be surprised if I find myself at Cafe Schober or Spruengli for a cafe creme. It's a day of long-distance telephone visits, one already this morning, and at least two more planned for later in the day. I like that overlap between the two halves of my life as well.

But enough ruminations. What can I say about the week just past? Some interesting lectures and seminars on topics such as the myth of Demeter and Persephone, practical and ethical dimensions of the analyst's work, picture interpretation (which gets more interesting as time goes by), more Authentic Movement, shamanism and rock art, and Schumann's song cycle "Dichterliebe" (in German). The remaining three weeks are lighter as far as seminars are concerned, but I'm hoping to make my time count in other ways which I will come back to if things work out. This weekend and next I have 3 days off and I'd thought of going away but decided against it, rather using the time to read and walk, and saving my travel funds for warmer months.

Well, I promised a quote this week. The one to follow is perhaps not particularly juicy but it may be evocative for anyone who has shared my frustration about not being able to remember "enough" dreams. (To this I must add, however, that right now I am remembering so many dreams that I don't know which ones to take to analysis first! So be careful what you ask for!)

"The psychological rule is: the unconscious takes the same attitude toward the ego as the ego takes toward it. If one pays friendly attention to the unconscious it becomes helpful to the ego. Gradually the realization dawns that a mutual 'opus' is being performed. The ego needs the guidance and direction of the unconscious to have a meaningful life; and the latent Philosophers' Stone, imprisoned in the 'prima materia,' needs the devoted efforts of the conscious ego to come into actuality." This is from Edinger's "Anatomy of the Psyche."

I still love Marion Woodman's comment on this exchange, in "Addiction to Perfection": "Unconsciousness needs the eye of consciousness; consciousness needs the energy of the unconscious. Writing allows that interchange to take place."

And with those wise words, I will sign off for this week and get out into the sunny cold day.

Experience

2006-01-22T10:21:00.000-08:00

It's Sunday morning again already and I'm enjoying my second cup of coffee after clearing up the last few dishes from dinner last night. I cooked an Indian meal for Marianne and Nick, my landlady and her boyfriend, and also invited Vicki, a new friend at IASP, from Maine. We had a fine and lighthearted time, and I definitely felt more "social" than I have since returning two weeks ago. I'm also pleased to have had two nights in a row of adequate sleep, having wondered when I would finally get over the terrible jetlag I experienced this time. My body and soul are finally in agreement with Zurich time, although part of me wonders how real time can be if we can manipulate it nine hours back and forth at will.

This was to have been my heaviest week with 28 hours of seminars, but I left one seminar after the first two sessions, which brought the hours down to 22. I still can't withdraw from a seminar without a pang of guilt because registration is considered a commitment and we are not supposed to pull out without good reason. But at the age of 52 I have decided that feeling bored and restless for two hours is reason enough, even though I never want to insult an instructor. At this time in my life I want to feel that my precious time is well-used.

(Most of what has been most meaningful this past week has occurred in the inner world which leaves me wondering what to describe here. Unlike some people who think of their blogs as on-line journals, for me this is - as I've reflected before - an open "letter from Zurich" but the line between letter and journal is sometimes fine indeed.)

I was quite sorry to see the end of my Thursday evening lecture and seminar series on "Introduction into Perception, Thinking and Action of the Psychiatrist." I'd expected a rather dry and clinical series of information-based evenings, and this was so much more. Apparently psychiatry here is very different than in North America. The instructor is also a professional psychotherapist although not a Jungian analyst - which surprised me given the importance he gave to dreams and archetypal elements of the healing process. It was purely fascinating, and my big regret was that I had to miss the third of five evenings, when he dealt with schizophrenia, highly relevant because of my brother's lifelong battle with the disease. Maya generously gave me her class notes to copy, but they can't convey the feeling-tone with which he presents case material and that to me was perhaps the most illuminating aspect of his presentation. For a psychiatrist to refuse to pathologize human experience and instead regard his patients and clients with such deep respect for their courage and survival strategies is quite remarkable. Beyond that, it is moving. He made no pretence of being untouched by the enormous suffering he encounters and told us that to do this kind of work changes your life - "You lose your innocence and you have no more illusions about life." But he also expressed the rich reward of seeing someone whose emotions have been frozen or carefully hidden away begin to reenter life, and the joy that comes then to both client and therapist alike. The other thing I so appreciated was that he insisted on including an experiential dimension each week so that we had just a tiny preview of what it might be like to work with someone with a serious depression or a major trauma in their life. That immediate link between theory and hands-on experience is missing in most of our seminars and it was such a valuable part for me. (I do feel it's a shame this is so unusual at ISAP. But enough said - I should probably be a little circumspect with these so public reflections!)

On a safer but also relevant (to me, anyway) topic, the weather has warmed up and in addition to some prototypical Vancouver wet and mild weather, we've had a couple of beautifully sunny days. I have been out walking more, and will head down to Stadelhofen shortly to meet up with another Canadian student-colleague for coffee. I have been enjoying getting to know more of my "classmates" and contemplating the evolving face of Jungian analysis as we go through our studies and begin our individual work as analysts in the wider world. Sometimes I feel like an older sister in the group, but yesterday I had a chat with a very lively and engaged 65 year old German woman, officially retired and pensioned, who was inspired by an 84-year old seminar leader to enter a new phase in her life and wants to work with geriatric populations in the future. I found that wonderful. It's one of the things I love about this work - there's no such thing as coming to it too late!

I still have no quote to share, I'm sorry to say. But I suspect that this will change soon because I have begun to do some very interesting reading. I'll keep you posted, so to speak! And with that optimistic premonition, I will sign off and wish all who read these lines a rich and fulfilling week to come.

Process

2006-01-15T08:08:00.000-08:00

It is a cold, silent early Sunday morning in wintery Zurich. My ongoing jetlag had me up at 4:30 which is better than my 2:20 am rising yesterday morning, but five nights of this have left me with a background headache and a veil of fatigue that feels thickest just when I most want to concentrate during an interesting seminar.

Nevertheless, despite my complaint, I am in good spirits. So far this has a more comfortable pace and feeling-tone than my six weeks here before Christmas. I arrived at 1 pm on Tuesday and as I walked into my 4 pm fairy tale seminar with an instructor I already know and like and a group of students who already feel like friends and colleagues, I felt yes, this is where I belong right now. And felt again that sense of deep quiet gratitude that outer circumstances, synchronicity, and the loving support of family and friends have all come together to allow me to follow my deepest bliss.

Now that the Admissions process has been completed, I can sink more deeply into the training process itself, which once again feels full of endless possibility. Even at this early stage (or perhaps not so early since everything precious in my life seems related to this work), I have more ideas for the two required "Symbol papers" and dissertation than I can ever use, and beyond that, lots of inspiration for seminars that I would like to teach here myself one day. But with "process" being the most important dimension of this training, I'm sure that the journey I have undertaken will take me in many unexpected directions, and I want to open myself to all of the unforseen possibilities ahead.

Reflecting back on my sleeplessness for a moment, I think it's not only jetlag, to be honest. My psyche simply cannot make an instantaneous switch from my Vancouver life and identity to my life here in Zurich. Add to that the fact that several seminars this week were more experiential than usual - which I love - and left my emotions churning afterward. It is all good, but intense, and would have left me tossing at night, even without jetlag.

Today will be a slow day. I've already made my enormous pot of soup for the coming week which is my heaviest, with 28 hours of lectures and seminars ahead! This afternoon I am meeting Vicki for a walk (assuming our ears and noses don't get frostbitten) and coffee - hello Spruengli Cafe! Suddenly I seem to have a very busy overseas telephone visit schedule as well. Part of me is sure I should be making "better" use of my time to read and immerse myself in Jungian theory, and then there is another (pretty insistent) part that reads for about twenty minutes and then balks. Over the last decade or so I have observed that I simply cannot read the way I used to, and I think it has been part of my "midlife" change in direction. I'm sure there is a more graceful way to express it, but Jung is not the only one to suggest that at midlife we find ourselves exploring unlived life and potential. Heaven knows I have read thousands and thousands of books in my life so far and will always love reading, but other passions demand my attention now and I take this resistance to booklearning as significant and not mere mental laziness! At the same time, I know that my precious five remaining weeks will fly by and, in accordance with my Libra nature, am always seeking a good balance and wise use of time.

And with that I will end this first reflection of 2006, with Happy New Year wishes to all.

Individuation

2005-12-11T10:00:00.000-08:00

Six weeks have passed, and tomorrow morning at this time I will be on my way to the airport, heading home to Vancouver. I've had an interesting week of classes, culminating yesterday with an all day seminar on Individuation, a topic that Jungians can't seem to say enough about. In various classes I have heard many attempts to describe and define the process. For those interested, here are some ideas from yesterday's discussion.

Individuation is a lifelong process of becoming conscious of who we are. It is the psychic impulse toward growth and full realization that mirrors the body's naturally unfolding process of maturation. Individuation is psychic movement and sometimes involves entering into an irrational process where the ego must relinguish control. As this process continues throughout our lifetime we becomes better able to sort out where we are in relation to the larger collective and to realize our own separateness and uniqueness, and to contain the neverending play of opposites within our psyche. You might say that what the ego does with life becomes our individuation process.

And, speaking of individuation, here is a lovely passage I read last night as I enjoyed my glass of wine and the quiet of having the whole house to myself. It comes from an article by Jungian analyst, Robin Van Loben Sels, in the special issue of Spring Journal titled,"Body & Soul: Honoring Marion Woodman."

"Whole-hearted acceptance of body's concrete existence is essential, of our essence. We cannot individuate without it. When bodies are unloved, whether by ourselves or others, hatred flows in, or intense neglect ensues. More than symbol, more even than the bread and wine of the Last Supper, each body is a knowing connection, a telling thing, a medium of experience, of expression and being. The body navigates us to where it wants us to go from an inner map not available to consciousness. Developing a sense of body awareness requires that we become aware of what the body wants, and how the body feels emotionally, and that we integrate all of this with personal consciousness."

She also quotes the Native American writer, Linda Hogan, who writes, "The body, made of earth's mud and breathed into, is the temple, and we need to learn to worship it as such, to move slowly within it, respecting it, loving it, treating ourselves and all our loved ones with tenderness ... love for the body and for the earth are the same love."

This is such a profound and strangely familiar truth to me that it's almost shocking to experience its importance over and over again on my journey. More often when we speak of loving our body it has to do with coming to accept its deviations from the cultural norms of beauty that haunt us in youth (which really means loving the image of our body, loving our body as object), but becoming aware of how the body feels emotionally and taking that as seriously as the mind's experience is a whole other story.

And with those reflections, typed in rhythm to a beautiful Charpentier cantata, I will close for now. I will most likely not go to Einsiedeln for the Salve Regina service this afternoon as I had planned, but have a slow day of cleaning and packing, and a long pre-flight walk, and finish with a lovely holiday gathering of BodySoul Rhythms women in Maya's home tonight, with mulled wine and candlelight. It seems like a perfect last day in Zurich before heading home for my four week midterm break.

Until January, then, I wish all who visit these lines peaceful hearts and souls over the next weeks and "Guten Rutsch" into the New Year! I'll be back in 2006.

Weekend

2005-12-04T10:20:00.000-08:00

It is Sunday morning and I feel as if I have finally caught my breath after a relentless (and self-chosen, I might add) schedule of lectures and seminars. It's my first weekend "off" since I arrived on the 1st of November. Wednesday was my first breather, with not one but two very enjoyable coffee visits at Spruengli in the course of the day and more walking in the icy autumn air than I've done in quite a while. Marathon Thursday with its twelve lecture hours proved both exhausting and exhilarating. For the most part it was all interesting and some of it quite inspiring as well. But so much to take in and absorb. My brain hurt!

I'd debated about attending a four hour lecture yesterday as well but when my tired body finally woke up at 9:25 am, quite unheard of for this early riser, I took it as my cue that a quiet day at home was in order. So I did some reading for next Saturday's Individuation seminar, and then walked into town, only to remember that Christmas shopping is in full swing and the crowds were thick on Bahnhofstrasse. I'm not sure what the two beautiful camels were doing on the sidewalk, but there was a happy throng gathered around them and they didn't seem to mind the attention, likely accustomed to the odd behaviour of human animals. They certainly had an expression of amusement on their faces. I kept on walking and picked up a few groceries and a few additions to my impressive stash of Christmas chocolate (my whole family being chocoholic, there is never too much of a good thing when it comes to chocolate). Then I returned to my cozy room, carried on with my reading and sipped coffee and nibbled away. I even cooked a simple supper between several lengthy long-distance telephone visits. Yesterday came closest to the leisurely feeling of my previous semester here and I enjoyed the reprieve.

Today is another day off and I shall finally take the tram to Forch to visit my friends whom I have not seen since my return. I'm looking forward to another rich and provocative visit and have picked up some Spruengli treats to fuel the discussion. As I reflect on my last semester, those visits were certainly among my most stimulating times, both in and out of seminars, and I realized last week that I have missed them. At a certain point on the trip out, the tram emerges from a dark tunnel into a wide open landscape of green rolling hills as far as the eye can see, and I have a visceral sense of having left the peopled space of Zurich and entered another time and space, less "civilized" and perhaps more unpredictable.

I received word from the Admission Committee midweek that I have been accepted as a Training Candidate which means I can begin thinking ahead, both in practical matters and as far as possible essay and thesis topics are concerned. In one way this is a curious and unexpected way to be spending a considerable chunk of my fifties (can this really be my sixth decade of life?) and yet it seems to be what my soul desires and requires. Still, I will continue to take it one step at a time and know that I can continue through the entire process, or leave at any time, if my sense of inner vocation changes. In either case I will never regret the Zurich experience with all its rich nuances and opportunities.

As I write these "Letters Home and abroad" I am always aware of the fine line between reporting outer events without sharing their meaning to me, and opening up what should be held quietly in my soul to simmer and brew for the time being. This is the closest thing to public writing that I have done in a few years and it certainly feels different than my private journal writing or even my proprioceptive writing, shared with a few. More so than with my books, there is something quite personal? intimate? (I can't find quite the right word) about posting these lines with no idea of who might read them and even decide to respond. I've received a couple of unexpected emails that reminded me I really don't know who might be reading this! Not an unpleasant surprise, I hasten to add, but a surprise all the same.

Enough for now. A week from tomorrow I will soar back to the arms of my beloved and my beloved Vancouver. I'm hoping to write one more entry before I leave and will be on the lookout for a good quote with which to end my 2005 "Letters from Zurich". Meanwhile, Happy first Advent Sunday and peace and fulfilment to all in this overbusy month of December.

Marathon

2005-11-26T21:12:00.000-08:00

Another week has passed, my fourth in Zurich, and each one seems to be passing more quickly. Indeed I just realized that I have had only one day off in the past twenty one, and this coming Wednesday will be my first day without any lectures, seminars, or interviews - in seventeen days straight! This is a little more than I bargained for when I arrived, although I could certainly do less if I wanted to. I did reach a point several weeks ago at which I decided that my criteria for what lectures and seminars to attend would be that I either had to be passionately interested in the topic, or to feel that they addressed a real gap in my knowledge of Jung. Any lecture or seminar that does not fit into either category could be missed. I think it is a good measure of how I can use my time most productively here.

Now that my Admission interviews are over I should feel a little less crowded and perhaps even manage to get to a concert before I return to Vancouver in two weeks. I did finally get out for dinner this week with Frederique, my friend from Paris, and we had a wonderful,juicy rousing catch-up visit over pizza and red wine. It was wonderful to visit away from ISAP and just be two women with strong similar interests and feisty, irreverant, and opiniated perspectives on some of the inner workings of our training institution and professional colleagues. Enough said. I realized how much I'd missed that kind of rapport with another crusty dame!

My too-busy schedule combined with very cold temperatures and some snow yesterday have meant I have also been far too sedentary in the past couple of weeks. I've been missing my long treks through the streets of Zurich but on Wednesday, my precious day off, I'm planning a long walk and wander, ending up perhaps at Spruengli in the late afternoon. Then Thursday will be the worst marathon ever, with twelve hours straight of lectures and seminars. (For those of my friends who are interested in the subject matter, my day begins at 10 am with a seminar on Individuation and Mysticism. At noon I have a planning meeting with two other students for a presentation in our 2 pm Typology seminar, followed by a dream seminar at 4 pm, then a lecture on Introduction to Psychiatry at 6, and an accompanying seminar at 8 pm. Of course I could skip the last two sessions but they will definitely deal with a major gap in my knowledge so I will go unless I am simply too knackered - I'm exhausted just listing them all! This sounds too much like I'm complaining, however, and I want to add that I also look forward to my first weekend off after that, with two and a half lecture-free days!)

Today was a day of Psychodrama in the form of Fairy Tale enactment, although we are again sworn to confidentiality. Rather than risk breaking my promise I will say only that I found it amazing and profound again, just as I did last semester. The experiential dimension is such an important and playful addition to all our verbal and book learning at ISAP. But the emotional dimension leaves me drained at the same time.

I am reflecting again on my lack of beautiful quotes to offer here, but the problem is simply that I have not had time to read anything but the pages required for various classes. Then again, I just recalled some lines by Marie-Louise von Franz that struck me as lovely and true.

"One can only help people to the best possible attitude, but it needs a miracle to heal the deep wound so that [they] can stretch out [their] hands when the waters of life bring the cure."

What a beautiful image - to stretch out our hands in faith that the waters of life will flow over them and heal us.

And - "People blossom in the surroundings of a woman who is in the right relationship with herself, because then she is rather like the positive mother-goddess who makes corn grow. But if the relationship with her own inner self is wrong, she is more likely to emanate the effects of the death goddess Hecate, and put a blight of death over those around. It is interesting to watch the effects one has rather than one's deeds."

Of course it is not always easy to find the right relationship with oneself. But what a worthy intention to carry in one's soul. I can't think of anything more important.

And so, happy to have found those lines again, I will sign off for now, with best wishes to all who enter here.

Crowded

2005-11-18T21:45:00.000-08:00

It's not quite a week since I checked in last but I have a weekend of seminars coming up and likely will not feel like writing at the end of the day. There is simply too much going on right now. Yesterday I had meetings, seminars, and interviews scheduled from 8 am to 9 pm, pretty much solid. When I woke up at 7 am to the alarm clock (which I hate and rarely have to do) and did not even have time to properly record a dream, I knew something was wrong with this picture. So I decided to skip my morning seminar and go for a long walk instead. With a forecast of very cold weather and snow to come, I headed to the Brockenhaus to see if I could pick up some gently used boots to tide me over the next few weeks until I get back to Vancouver. But I hadn't realized that this is the Swiss version of the Salvation Army, and while they had some very nice furniture (that would pass for antique in Vancouver) at great prices, the clothing was shabby and limited and I did not find anything worthwhile. The walk in sunshine at noon was lovely. Even so I felt crabby and spent during my final meeting last night, and could not wait to get back to the privacy and comfort of my little room.

Today I went to a morning lecture but again decided to skip Part Two in the afternoon. Instead, I took myself down to Spruengli Cafe and experienced the first snowflakes of the season, in the midst of bright sunshine - a strange combination indeed. It was nice to see the liveliness and animation on these normally sedate Swiss faces as big white flakes settled on their jackets and they squinted their eyes against the sun.

The good news is that I have only two more Admission interviews next week and then they will simply have to decide whether they want me as an official student or not. Not surprisingly, these interviews are not really "interviews" at all in any conventional sense. They are a combination of interview, screening procedure, and analytic hour. The process is strange, fascinating, unsettling, and surprising. But never boring.

I finally made it to the Five Rhythms dance class with Maya on Tuesday night. It started out well and I was enjoying the music and dancing quite a lot (even though it had a rather more intimate feel than I had expected - Maya says that is different every week), until a woman too caught up in her orgiastic dance experience and oblivious to those around her - including moi - smashed my poor bare little left toe with her heel. At first it just felt sore but then it really became painful and I could not put weight on it, let alone dance. By now it has turned several interesting shades of blue. So much for that experience! I can see potential value in exploring the Five Rhythms, but that class was a little too wild and uncontained for me!

My reading lately has not been of the quotable kind, alas, and so I have no inspiring words with which to close. But I will be on the lookout for next time. Until then, my best to all.

Comfort

2005-11-13T09:32:00.000-08:00

It is Sunday again and my first day without any seminars or other appointments in more than a week. I'm getting off to a late start this morning because my landlady, Marianne, had a dinner party to which I was invited last night and it was 1 am when the last guests left. I'm sure I have never before had dinner with a table full of academic chemists of various kinds and their language is almost as foreign to my ears as Swiss-German. But I liked the people - all in their thirties except the host and hostess and myself - and the food was wonderful, all the more so because I have been eating very simply and filling in the gaps with chocolate. I'm just not in the mood to cook much here in Zurich but it was wonderful to sit down to a delicious Greek dinner of roast lamb and wonderful side dishes and a decadent tiramisu to follow.

The weather here has continued to be beautiful, an almost guilty pleasure for me when I hear how much dreary rain Vancouver has had since I left. Many mornings Steve sets out for his walk and comes home soaked. Here the day often begins with a thick mysterious fog which gradually thins out and disappears entirely by noon, revealing slanted rays of a very golden sunlight that I particularly love. The beautiful soft and somewhat diffuse light here seems appropriate to the work I have undertaken, I think.

On Friday night and all day yesterday we had a "Demeter workshop" offered by three women from England who are also in Marion Woodman's Leadership Training Program. We explored the myth of Demeter and Kore/Persephone in a very personal way through dream imagery and movement and art. They put it all together in a lovely and loving way and I was excited to see how someone else is creating something new out of the study we have shared. It evokes my own creativity as a workshop leader as well - I have some ideas for the work Ursula and I do together that spring out of the work we did yesterday.

Unfortunately that is the second and last movement seminar we will have before Christmas but there is a six week Authentic Movement Seminar offered in January and I'm looking forward to that very much.

I just realized that I have not yet included a quote since I'm back in Zurich, and I thought of the following one from James Hollis who has so many good things to say and who will be speaking in Vancouver next weekend.

"...As we and our partners [and friends, I would add] are only fragile, frightened travelers, easily hurt and intimidated by the loud roar of the universe, we are all most needful of magnanimity of spirit. Touching, forgiving, accepting, comforting oneself and the other brings grace into this wounded world." (From "Creating a Life", p.137, since you asked.)

I think what touches me most is the reminder that it is ourselves we need to comfort and forgive as much as the other, especially the comforting part. I think most of us (including JH himself, I suspect) find it easier to extend that magnanimity to others than to ourselves. What a lyrical reminder that forgiveness begins at home!

And with those wonderful words I will sign off for now. Wishing all a good week to come.

Landing

2005-11-05T18:17:00.000-08:00

After three and a half months at home in Vancouver I'm back in Zurich!

I'm pleased to be here but this semester already has a different feel to it than the last one, which had a leisurely and spacious quality to it that I loved. Now that I am cautiously but definitely moving toward becoming an "official" training candidate at ISAP, there is much to be done including six Admission Interviews over the next few weeks and beginning to look for a Training Analyst. I don't think I will have quite the same freedom to wander the streets and bridges of Zurich nor to visit Cafe Spruengli that I had last semester, alas. But I'm sure I will enjoy (more than) my fair share of Swiss chocolate as I work my way through the required readings for various seminars, so that is some consolation.

The semester seems more packed with lectures and seminars than the last one, and given that I am here for only six weeks before Christmas and then another six in January, I'm trying to get to as many as possible. There is also the chance to do some more Psychodrama one weekend, so it will be a very full time indeed. This online "Letter from Zurich" will hopefully serve the purpose of offering my friends on the other side of the ocean a little window into my Zurich experience. (And please don't hesitate to email me if you feel like it, same address as ever - Schiwy3@shaw.ca)

Today I finally feel back to myself again. Jetlag kept me awake for most of the first few nights and by yesterday I was beyond exhausted and could hardly keep my eyes open during the movement seminar I've been looking forward to so much. I don't know if I have ever slept close to twelve hours at one go before, but last night I went to bed at 10, got up to write down a dream at 7 am, then went back to bed and slept until 10! And got up feeling mighty fine! I've taken it slow today and made an enormous pot of soup (leeks, carrots, potatoes, rutabago, parsley, corn, and lentils) that will go into the freezer and provide many quick suppers after long days of classes. There is something so wholesome and comforting about chopping vegetables for soup and then smelling its aroma throughout the house. Thankfully my landlady agrees!

On Wednesday, my first full day here, a group from ISAP took several trains to see Jung's tower in Bollingen. We were greeted by a grandson of his who gave us some background and told several interesting anecdotes about his childhood experiences there. Jung's round stone kitchen was wonderful with its large open fireplace and stone floor and walls. It had a powerful primitive energy and I could imagine roasting meat in the open fire and then tearing it off the bone with primal pleasure. Who needs forks and knives and napkins? But that is as far as we got. I was disappointed not to see any of the other rooms because Jung kept building additions throughout his entire life and it all looks fascinating from the outside. His descendents still use it as living space, however, and so it remains private property.

I have several long reading assignments for the coming week so will close for now. My hope is to write at least once a week and again attempt to capture a few "bead memories" of my time in Zurich. One final thought: I still feel my inner Virgin "pregnant with possibility" as I delve deeper into the realms of psyche and soma here in beautiful autumnal Zurich. Let's see what the coming weeks bring.

Until next weekend, then, best wishes to all...

Zurich Farewell

2005-07-14T17:41:00.000-07:00

I've just returned from my last walk along the Bahnhofstrasse to Paradeplatz in the hot sunshine and into (air conditioned) Spruengli Cafe where I had my favourite combination of mango sorbet and chocolate ice cream, and a cafe creme, and jotted down some thoughts about my semester in Zurich. Leonard Cohen is crooning "Dance Me to the End of Love" as I write this and I feel liminal. But it's a good feeling. I got up early and scrubbed and polished (I never clean quite this meticulously at home!) and then moved a box of books and a large bag of miscellaneous items into the basement storage room at ISAP - I must be coming back. Now I have room in my two big suitcases for the ten pounds of chocolate I'm importing to Vancouver (I'm not kidding). Not that we can't get basically the same chocolate in Vancouver, but I like the idea of bringing it from Switzerland, serious chocoholic that I am. I always take chocolate on the last afternoon of each Intensive summer course and this year it will be Lindt rather than Ritter Sport.

Now Leonard and his chorus are singing "Hallelujah" and that pretty much expresses how I feel today. I am feeling back to myself for the first time in ten days, and let me tell you, I love having my energy back. It also sums up my time in Zurich quite well. I have lived two years' worth of experiences during these three months, and I feel richer, deeper, humbler, and perhaps a little wiser for it all. This is also the longest period of time I've spent in Europe for twenty years and I've loved that too. It surely helps to speak the language - I felt a bit of a helpless fool in Paris although Yvonne managed for both of us - although at times I was actually the only person in a seminar (including the facilitator) whose first language is English (technically mine is actually German but that was fifty years ago).

I have enjoyed the leisurely afternoon and will round out the day with a final Proprioceptive Writing period tonight. When I arrive in Vancouver my other life will be waiting with all its joys and responsibilities, and I do not expect to be writing here for a while. To all who have accompanied this Pregnant Virgin throughout her Zurich journey, my thanks for your companionship, both known and unknown, and my best wishes for a wonderful summer.

And so - goodbye for now - from Marlene.

Stretched

2005-07-13T20:28:00.000-07:00

I'm back. From the beautiful south of France, but also from a period of time that stretched me in many ways. As always, what happened in the weeklong course must stay contained (which is to say confidential) but suffice it to say that it was a difficult week. It was also a profound and moving week. The Body Soul Writing participants worked at a deep level and some of the writing that emerged was achingly honest and quite beautiful. Ursula and I both gave all we could of ourselves - body, soul, and love - in our teaching, and Yvonne and Gill did the same with meals and accommodation. And that is all I will say at this time.

Back in Zurich after the overnight train from Toulouse where I lay claustrophobically close in a couchette compartment for six women and slept fitfully through the night as the highspeed train sped and rocked its way back to Geneva. There must be a better way! I'd forgotten how cramped those little spaces are.

After sorting, packing, and cleaning my way through the afternoon, I hope to have some time tomorrow to relax and perhaps visit Spruengli for a final coffee in the afternoon. My friend Gabi from London is in town tonight but I knew I was too spent to catch up on all that has happened in both our lives and will save that for when she and Mustafa are in Vancouver in September. Emerging out of a relentlessly busy and extroverted time over the past three or four weeks and heading into a solid month of teaching Intensives, I need the time to find my way back to center, and to reflect on all that has happened. When I am involved only in outer work I lose myself and that is not a wise or comfortable place to teach from. I begin to feel frantic and desperate for solitude, so tomorrow will be my day to reflect on this three month sojourn in Zurich, and to contemplate on what it has brought me.

I think this entry is a little quiet and maybe even a little sad. But there is no question that I am looking forward to returning to Vancouver, the arms of my beloved, the blue and green curves of Kits beach, and sunny weeks of writing Intensives at UBC. One thing I have come to realize is that three months is too long to be away. If I do continue with this training program (and I do plan to) I will find ways to limit my time away to six or eight weeks at a time, no longer. My main life, it is clear, is in Vancouver.

I won't start singing "Leaving On a Jet Plane" just yet because I may decide to write a final "Goodbye to Zurich" entry tomorrow. But that's all for now.

Simmering

2005-06-26T09:49:00.000-07:00

This feels like the beginning of my final stretch of time in Europe. Ursula arrives in a few hours and we will catch up and do some work in preparation for Body Soul Writing which begins next Sunday evening in Castelnau de Montmiral, in the sunflower-heavy, sun-drenched south of France. A new friend asked me recently, "What kind of work do you have to do? Can't you go in and teach it based on all of your previous experience? Well, yes, I could. But the process and the material would not be alive in me nor quickening my body and soul even before I walk into the first session. Preparing - first on my own and then with Ursula - gets me simmering and brewing, so that by the time we begin the course, I am on a rolling boil. Now I know that with the prospect of another very hot summer coming up this may not be the most appealing metaphor, but it is definitely how I experience the process. We will all boil together in both ways, if necessary.

Marion Woodman arrives in Zurich on Wednesday following her current "Black Madonna" lecture series in Einsiedeln, and Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday will be largely Woodman-oriented. Then Ursula and I leave on our twelve hour, four train journey on Saturday morning. When I return on July 13th, it will simply be to pack and clean and bid Zurich farewell, at least for now.

Yesterday I experienced one of the most exciting ISAP seminars to date. Ten of us plus the husband and wife analyst-teacher team met in their beautiful teaching studio in the lush rolling hills of Zumikon, just outside of Zurich, for an intensive day of Psychodrama. My closest previous experience had been the empty chair exercise in my Gestalt training (apparently Fritz Perls developed Gestalt therapy largely as an offshoot of Psychodrama) and Eleanor Barz's (the wife) Dream Seminar about 6 weeks ago where she used a bit of Psychodrama as well. My friend Kate in New York, a Psychodramatist herself, has long told me how deep and profound and fascinating this way of working with the psyche can be, and she is right. We did three psychodramas in the course of the day and the wonderful thing is that everyone was involved in each one, whether in a "main role" or just a part of the chorus (just to mix metaphors). I loved all of it, felt riveted the entire time without ever lagging even for an instant. I don't remember when twelve hours last flew by that quickly. We ended with a potluck picnic supper on their patio and drank lots of wine and laughed and got a little silly after the concentrated intensity of the day's work. I can hardly wait to do more. I may even volunteer to be the protagonist in one of the psychodramas next time.

I was impressed by the safe and respectful (dare I say loving) containing space Helmut and Eleanor Barz were able to create in the course of the day - no doubt in part due to their three decades of experience - so that the soul was never betrayed or injured, and the protagonist could stop at any point in the process if she or he so desired. I even loved the ritual elements of the process, which in themselves provide part of the sense of safety, signifying entry into a different kind of space.

Yesterday provided another richly-hued bead for my ever-expanding Zurich necklace. - And that is where I have been, inside and out.

Oui

2005-06-21T11:50:00.000-07:00

I just realized it has been a record number of days since my last entry. It's not that I haven't thought about writing or flattered myself that some friends might be disappointed when they check and I haven't written in a while. It has simply been a very busy time in every way. The schedule of lectures and seminars has been packed; I have been doing some work in preparation for the course in France; and most happily of all, I had a lovely weekend in Paris with Yvonne. In fact, having just read her entry about the weekend, it almost seems redundant to write about it because she wrote such a beautiful and thorough account of those days. But I want to describe a few of my own bead memories.

The last time I was in Paris was in October of 1983 just after I arrived in England to begin my doctoral work. Nellie and Ken were travelling in Europe at the time and generously gave me a weekend in Paris with them as my MA graduation gift. My most vivid memory is of sitting in the cafe at the Louvre with Nellie while Ken tried to see it all in one afternoon. I do recall that Nellie and I saw the Mona Lisa and spent an hour or two wandering through that enormous building, and then, like any reasonable human being, headed for the gift shop and cafe to recuperate from all that high culture.

This time my hope was to wander the streets for hours, look and experience (we did), sit in cafes and watch the Parisian life passing by in front of us, and write (after all, we are Anais and Simone, although Yvonne informs me she is now Colette. I think I will remain Simone, who was such an important figure for me). We did not do that but we did a lot, especially given the tremendous heat wave that swept over Paris on Saturday and Sunday. The Cluny Museum of the Middle Ages with its original tapestries of the Virgin and the Unicorn was stunning. Finally to see that archetypal image of the unicorn with its front paws in the lap of the Virgin as it beholds itself in the silver mirror she holds up to it, as in Rilke's beautiful sonnet, such an integral part of our work with Marion Woodman - and the sheer beauty and power of all the tapestries in the series, was very moving to me.

And the Rodin Museum. Yvonne has already described how we wandered through the sculpture garden and I felt compelled to keep putting my hand inside the beautiful large hands of the figures he'd sculpted and hold and caress those graceful hands, often curved with some kind of tenderness that touches me deeply. What a rare delight to be able to touch the sculpture rather than be warned off. I returned the next morning to walk through the museum itself and saw some of his more famous works but also some lovely dancers I had not known of. And thought of my favourite figure skating pair, Gordyaeva and Grinkov, among whose last great performances before his untimely death at 26 was my favourite of theirs: a stunningly choreographed piece based on Rodin's gestures and postures. I believe it was set to Rachmaninoff but I'm not sure. What love of the human body and all its gestures is evident in his work.

On Saturday night we met Frederique, my feisty, sexy Parisian Jungian colleague, for dinner, after sitting in the Cafe Flores, in honour of my namesake, Simone de Beauvoir, who used to write there every day from 9 till noon and 3-7 pm, and drinking the most expensive cold drinks of my life (20 Euros for two diet Cokes and a lemonade)! Frederique took us to a favourite restaurant of hers with excellent authentic French food and of course wine, at very reasonable prices. Yvonne, who is an expert on steak and pommes frites, said they were the best she'd had in a very long time. I had quail simmered with onions and cabbage and probably more butter than I want to know, but it was delicious.

What a delight it was. I have been trying to live frugally these months in Europe because everything is so expensive but what a treat to splurge on a weekend in Paris. We were both modest in our purchases, limiting ourselves to one pair of shoes each, despite traipsing through the Galerie Lafayette and finding much to covet. And we dreamed and schemed about renting a little apartment for three or four months sometime in the next few years, and really soaking it all up in a leisurely way.

Now I really feel it is countdown. Ten more days before Ursula and I leave for France, and then it's homeward bound. And - despite my wonderful European adventure, I do feel ready to be back in Vancouver and with Steve and dear friends and family again. Yesterday I had a rare spell of feeling a little bleak, but today I'm back in good form and looking forward to everything ahead this summer. And then, probably, to coming back in the fall for more, although only time will tell...

Meetings

2005-06-12T19:46:00.000-07:00

I have been doing some wonderful reading lately and it's time to share some quotes again. More in DIVINE BEAUTY but also another book that has me very excited, SOUNDING THE SOUL. First, this lovely passage from the former, which delighted me a few days ago. John O'Donohue writes:

"Every heart is full of creative material. There are depths in us hungering towards the light. Many writers continue to excavate their childhood. For a writer, childhood can be a Grimms' forest of treasures, wonders and shadows. Childhood is that time of silence when the deepest impressions become imprinted. Everything a new infant glimpses is first intimation of mystery. The world is seen as if God were just creating it; it has the fresh scent of recent arrival. Later in life, when we begin to write, this is the kind of raw freshness and excitement of first intimations that we are seeking to recapture. The creative gift remains faithful to that rich strangeness of the world and the intimate strangeness of the self. As we journey through life, we gather a world around the heart. When creativity awakens, we discover that nothing is truly complete or closed in life. The deeper we attend to the soul, the more we realize what a treasure-house we have inherited."

What lovely thoughts, that "as we journey through life, we gather a world around the heart," and that the soul is a treasure-house yielding more and more richness, the longer and more faithfully we attend to it.

This has been a soulful weekend indeed. On Friday night I went to have dinner with Maya, the lovely Danish Body Soul Rhythms participant I mentioned in an earlier entry. We walked in the woods behind her apartment and talked deeply and at length about many things that matter most to us. And then she fed me a delicious meal. I will be there again in a couple of weeks when she hosts a potluck dinner in honour of Marion Woodman, to which the "BSR Ladies of the Alps" have generously invited Ursula and me.

Yesterday I dedicated to preparation, both internal and external, for the Body Soul Writing course in France. I began and ended with movement and the Proprioceptive Writing ritual. I'd invited Ursula to join me for the second one at 8 pm my time, 2 pm in Toronto, and so we wrote together across the Atlantic and then read to each other over the telephone. Just in case either one of us had forgotten how powerful this ritual can be, we were certainly reminded yesterday. And synchronizing our writing process is a gentle way to refresh our working collaboration in France again.

Today I met another BSR participant for brunch at Spruengli Cafe where we forwent (past form of "forego"?) croissant and butter and jam for a small bowl of Bircher Benner muesli, full of grated apple and berries. But lest I felt too virtuous, it had cream in it that probably more than made up for the croissant and butter I'd foresworn. Delicious, in any case. (And I will no doubt eat les croissants galore in Paris next weekend anyway.) Jodi and I visited for over three hours, strolled along the Limmat, compared impressions of the new ISAP program (she also studied in Kusnacht for several years) and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves. Then I came back to my little pad and have been alternating BSW preparation with chocolate breaks all afternoon. The sun is shining after a grey morning and the birds are offering a late Sunday vespers. And I think this is a good place to end. I will save the quote from SOUNDING THE SOUL for another time.

Gratitude

2005-06-08T07:00:00.000-07:00

It's only a few days since I last wrote but having just read several friends' online reflections I'm in the mood to write a few lines myself. Yesterday Steve flew back to Vancouver. As we loaded his luggage into the cab yesterday morning I thought how nice it would be if he were being met by someone at the other end, and lo and behold, a dear friend of ours took it upon herself to surprise him at the airport and drive him home. So thank you, dear friend, from me as well!

It's quiet in my little apartment now. But I need this solitude and psychic space to reflect on all that has happened over the past two months and all that is still taking place - both externally, as I have described here over the weeks, and internally, which I have relegated to my private journal, not feeling comfortable revealing "soul material" in an open letter, which is how I have come to see these lines. Not that I haven't revealed some fairly personal material in my books, but that seems different somehow. Maybe it's the idea of putting it out into cyberspace that still feels odd to me. I'm not sure.

I feel good today. We had a wonderful and relaxing time together here, Steve and I, walking and exploring, going to lectures, eating too much cake and chocolate, and dancing most evenings to the music I uploaded onto this laptop. I think we are both pleased that Steve now has firsthand experience of my life in Zurich and some of the people I have described to him, as well as the loveliness of waking up to birdsong every morning. (In Vancouver, as he says, we hear mostly the harsh sound of crows.)

This weekend I want to immerse myself in Body Soul Writing preparation for France. Ursula and I have talked on the telephone once or twice but now we are each doing our own preparation and then we'll have a week together in Zurich before our 12 hour train trip to Gaillac. After being thrown back into student life here in Zurich, it's a little strange to think that in three weeks I will once again be the instructor. I know I will love expressing that part of myself again.

As I skipped down the two hundred stairs to the center of Zurich at noon today, I thought again how lucky I am to have these months (and probably more to come) to immerse myself in something so compelling to me (with some important exceptions I did not feel this kind of passion for my graduate studies) and to be part of such a lively community of people from all over the world. Since moving back from New York in June 2000, my life in Vancouver has been so rich and wonderful that I wondered if I was crazy to leave Steve behind and come to Zurich for more Jungian study. But now I think it may make for an even richer mosaic to combine both worlds and move ahead into the next few years in this way.

So maybe that is why I wanted to write today. I needed to express my gratitude for this rich opportunity and for Steve's support even when I know he'd rather have me at home in Vancouver. I'll be back soon.....

Body

2005-06-05T16:58:00.000-07:00

Is it really Sunday again, already? The past week has flown by more quickly than any previous ones, it seems, and in less than 48 hours Steve will once again be over the Atlantic, halfway home to Vancouver. And we will have another separation of more than five weeks. It has felt a little like a honeymoon being together here for these two weeks. We both have so much to get done in the next month or so that the time will continue to go quickly, but we will miss each other.

This afternoon we took a little cruise around the lake and enjoyed our coffee on the upper deck as we passed by all the picturesque and affluent little towns on the shore of Zurichsee. We cruised right by the C. G. Jung Institute in Kusnacht and I thought again how lovely it would be if ISAP were to reclaim it as the base of our training program (it's not impossible) with its beautiful garden and Festsaal lecture room right on the lake. It was a little cloudy and there was not much sunshine but relaxing nonetheless. Tonight we are going to have an Indian dinner not far from here and then there's only tomorrow left. I have to make a brief presentation in a morning seminar and Steve will again attend with me.

It is well past the halfway point of my time here now. In less than six weeks I'll be back in Vancouver and start my Summer Intensive teaching, both of which I look forward to with relish. Meanwhile, I have preparatory work to do for the Body Soul Writing course in France, and another presentation to prepare for a seminar here. (And of course there is Paris - don't forget Paris...)

On Friday there was a very interesting six hour experiential seminar focusing on body work, with Cedrus Monte, whom I met during her lecture for the Vancouver Jung Society a couple of years ago. It was so good to be working in that way again and it made me realize how much I miss the Body Soul Rhythms - because this comes closer to that way of working with the body than anything else I've experienced. I loved it, and felt a deeper kinship with the others in the group (six women and one man) than I have felt in any other seminar. I wish we could have a day like that every week and told Cedrus so. I know that my body, my entire experience is different when my body is fluid with movement rather than sitting in a chair for hours, my poor brain trying so hard to take everything in while my body and emotions protest at the forced stillness and rigidity. Unfortunately there is still not enough general interest and the Intensive seminar - "Body Awareness in Analytic Process" - that I was eagerly looking forward to next weekend has been cancelled due to low enrolment. And yet there is excited anticipation of Marion Woodman's visit at the end of the month - so perhaps her exploration of the integral relationship of psyche and soma will inspire some interest.

I feel these paragraphs are somehow "dry" but I will post them anyway and perhaps write something a little juicier another time! Steve is hungry and we are off to the Taj Palace for some good curry!

Time

2005-05-30T16:15:00.000-07:00

It's Monday and Steve and I are having a lazy afternoon while the laundry gets done. He has attended several lectures with me - on Alchemy, and on the relationship between Depth Psychology and indigeneous healing practices among the Xhosa people in South Africa - and enjoyed them considerably. And I have enjoyed our being students together, as if we were attending university in our twenties. We both feel on holiday at the moment, and that, despite the fact that he arrived from Leipzig with a very bad back and could not move without pain for the first few days. That did not leave us with a lot of choices about things to do, but on Saturday he began to feel better and yesterday there was a marked improvement.

We did manage a visit to the Cafe Spruengli, Zurich's most famous pastry cafe, and enjoyed the low key European elegance of the place, as well as excellent vanilla ice cream and mango sorbet (Steve), and wonderful coffee and pastry (me). We also had a very pleasant lunch with three other students one day, and spent the afternoon walking and talking with Marc who was visiting from Oregon with the thought of training as an analyst himself.

On Saturday afternoon we took the train, actually two, to Einsiedeln, home of the magnificent Benedictine Abbey and the Black Madonna, which Steve had not seen. It was a very hot day (I'm not complaining!) and the cool interior of the Church, golden and bejewelled with Baroque frescoes, and the quiet reverential chanting of the monks at Vespers were a lovely counterpoint to the intense, bright, tourist-filled sunshine outside. As we sat in the small chapel at the back of the Church in which the Black Madonna is held, I watched as a tiny little black child in bright pink sundress and diminuitive sandals, got up to leave with her clearly adoptive (and adoring) white parents. As she turned to the back, the little one intently offered her tiny hand to one of three nuns sitting in the row behind her, then to the second, and finally to the third one, each of them beaming with pleasure at the sweetness of this unexpected leavetaking. I wondered what prompted the little girl, a year and a half old at most, to do this, and with such seriousness on her little face, as if this was of utmost importance to her. Afterward we sat in an outdoor restaurant right in front of the Abbey, and ate Swiss specialties, including Rosti, which turns out to be a large variation of a potato pancake, tasty but very filling.

Yesterday afternoon we took the tram out to Forch again and visited with my new friends there. This time I took the meal and we drank wine and feasted and had a good and rousing discussion as usual but with the added element of the masculine this time.

It's strange to think that tomorrow is already the halfway mark of Steve's time with me in Zurich. (One day I would like to understand better how it is that I am always so aware of time, to the point where I hardly need a watch. I'm not sure whether it "means anything" in particular, but I have noticed that I have an almost visceral relationship with time, in that I feel my relationship to it very concretely, whereas I am hopeless when it comes to reading maps or finding my way around a new environment where it helps to have a good sense of spatial relatedness. I am always gratefully surprised when street signs actually correspond to the map in my hand, as if by magic.) There are still so many things I want to show Steve in Zurich, and to explore with him for the first time, and the days are flying by. Of course, if, as I suspect, I will return in the fall, there will be other opportunities, but I don't take anything for granted, and I think he too is finding my nest on the Zurichberg a very cozy little home away from home.

So that's all for now, I think.

Vertigo

2005-05-22T19:19:00.000-07:00

It has been a slow, quiet Sunday, much needed after a week of whirlwind travel and visits. Outside it is raining and storming after some unexpected hours of sunshine, but I am cozy in my little nest on the side of Zurichberg, with the Bach Cantatas I bought this afternoon rippling and flowing as I write.

On Thursday I arose at 4:30 am to get the 6 o'clock train to Leipzig, where David met me at the train station with Jonas and Hannah peeking out shyly from behind his legs, to be joined a few minutes later by Jana, who had stayed behind to make sure the cheesecake was baked well enough. Then we all headed out to the airport where Steve was waiting for us. How wonderful to see him after five weeks apart - our longest separation since 1988 when we began to live together in New York - looking lean and elegant and as happy to see me as I was to see him. It was a loooong hug we shared.

Jana had prepared a lovely dinner - the cheesecake was delicious - and the little ones entertained us mightily with their antics. Then Steve and I both collapsed at the Hotel Leonardo. The next day I returned to Zurich, only to discover that two consecutive eight-hour train trips of reading and writing and watching the scenery fly by at 160 km per hour (sometimes "backwards" depending on the direction of the seats) had left me with the worst bout of vertigo I have had in a long time.

I didn't feel well on Friday night when I returned, late, but when the telephone woke me up at 4:30 am and I staggered to turn the light on, I thought I would pass out because the room was spinning at an incredible rate and I could not get it to stop. As anyone who has experienced it knows, vertigo is a very nasty thing and there is nothing to do but wait it out. The first time I had an attack Steve went out to get me some medication but I could not even keep it down. The nausea was so severe I vomited. I've never again had that terrible an attack but it always leaves me headachey, nauseated, and feeling as if my body has been through a battle.That is how I felt yesterday and today.

Yesterday I had an eight hour dream seminar located half an hour away by tram. I didn't know if I could sit in another train but decided to give it a try. I'm glad I did because the seminar was interesting and even though I felt lousy, at least the day was engaging and productive. I would not even have been able to read, had I stayed at home. Today I'm still feeling the symptoms but less acutely. I guess the lesson for me is not to assume I can spend 22 hours reading and writing on trains in 5 days, and expect to feel energetic and healthy at the end of it. Holding my head down and then lifting it up again frequently to look at the whizzing scenery must have left my inner ear completely confused and disoriented!

I am nearing the halfway point of my time in Europe and from here on in the time will pass with increasing rapidity (at least it will feel that way) because of everything still to happen. Yvonne and I have dreamed up a weekend in Paris in mid-June and then Ursula arrives to prepare for Body Soul Writing. And then it is July.

I have read some wonderful things lately and want to be sure to include some quotes again - next time.

Beloveds

2005-05-18T22:09:00.000-07:00

Just a few lines tonight because I have to be up at 4:45 in the morning to catch the train to Leipzig. David and Jana and the little ones, Jonas and Hanna, will meet me at the train station and we'll all carry on to the airport to welcome Steve. I am so happy anticipating the reunion with my outer Beloved.

What a wonderful time in Geneva with Susan and her dear husband, Pierre Yves. At the end of the twenty hours we had together my head was swimming with inspiration and stimulation and the exuberance of reviving a friendship conducted only by email over the five year interval. Not quite true - we'd held each other in our hearts, to be sure, but nothing compares with face to face bodily presence with each other. There is so much to say but I can't say it now - only that my necklace of beads is growing.

Today, another day of browsing and reading my way through the Kusnacht Institute Library. I found some splendid material, then left with a stiff neck and shoulders, just short of a headache! I'm not accustomed to four hour reading marathons anymore.

Perhaps it was inevitable that, sooner or later, I would quote something from the work of Jung himself. I came across this quote in a book called THE JEWEL IN THE WOUND, the other day, and have been pondering its significance, as well as its appeal, for me. (I'm sure Jung will forgive my translation into the feminine.)

"The state of imperfect transformation, merely hoped for and waited for, does not seem to be one of torment only, but of positive, if hidden, happiness. It is the state of someone who, in [her] wanderings among the mazes of her psychic transformation, comes upon a secret happiness which reconciles her to her apparent loneliness. In communing with herself she finds not deadly boredom and melancholy but an inner partner; more than that, a relationship that seems like the happiness of a secret love, or like a hidden springtime, when the green seed sprouts from the barren earth, holding out the promise of future harvests." (Jung, CW 14, par. 623)

What a lovely thought - to find the partner within who loves us and nurtures the tender seeds of our potential into growth. The inner Beloved, indeed.

Feasts

2005-05-15T11:00:00.000-07:00

It is exactly one month today since I arrived in Zurich. What a rich time it has been. Here are some more beads from the days since I wrote last.

I had a lovely leisurely breakfast with Ursula K-Z in Kusnacht on Thursday. She is also completing Marion's Leadership Training program, and we shared experiences with the Body Soul work over the years, and then she showed me some of her stunning sculptures and paintings. How sweet to sit at her table and talk, with good strong coffee and lovely Swiss breads and cheeses for breakfast, feeling all the while both the excitement of getting to know someone for the first time, and the immediate recognition of a kindred spirit, based on our similar experiences and perceptions in the realm of soul work.

The next day I went back to the Library at the Kusnacht Jung Institute and watched a fascinating video called "Ich Hiess Sabine Spielrein" ("My Name was Sabine Spielrein") which I have long wanted to see and could never find in Vancouver. It concerns one of Jung's more questionable relationships with a woman patient, and was very sensitively and poetically made. From what I know it gave a fair representation of all involved. And to watch it in the actual original Jung Institute and in Swiss-accented German also provided a heightened intensity to my viewing. Jung did speak German after all, and with a Swiss accent, which has a different feeling to it than if I'd watched it with English dubbing or subtitles. I will resist the temptation to go into a discussion of all the intricacies of the story, and simply say that I am glad the personal and ethical boundaries in analytic relationships are more clearly drawn today!

It was a lovely afternoon and afterward I sat in the rose garden and soaked in the sun which I have missed so much. I'd originally registered for a four hour seminar at that time but the four hour lecture leading up to it the previous afternoon was so disorienting that I decided to cancel and do what I wanted to do instead. I'm not sure why that felt like a big step but it did. I was sorry to do it, though, because I'd enjoyed the preparatory reading and was really looking forward to the seminar. But I don't think it has ever happened to me before that as one, two, three hours of lecture went by, I started to feel dizzy as a result of the speaker's abrupt and to me unreasonable digressions and almost standup comic asides. I felt a captive audience to his performance (it surely didn't feel like a lecture) and realized that if I stuck it out for the final hour I might actually feel seasick - so I left during our final break. Good move. I have so appreciated receiving email messages from friends keeping me up to date with their lives, and used the hour to catch up with them.

Yesterday I went out to see my new friends in Forch again (I should have asked if they have any objection to my referring to them by name - I'm sure they won't but I will ask first). I was determined not to stay for five hours this time, but when I said I was very concerned not to tire her out, my analyst friend said not at all and that she doesn't believe in external time restrictions when the conversation is flowing. Which it certainly did again. In fact, perhaps a little too freely on my part after a glass of wine, and afterward my inner critic, ever ready to pounce, tried to give me a hard time - even this morning - but I reminded him that I'd come to Zurich planning to be myself, not trying to be perfect. (Was it Marion, or Marion quoting Jung, who said, "It's so much easier to be better than we are, than to be WHO we are"? Whoever it was, I think it is true.) Again we moved through so many topics of conversation including our common passion for India - although they have both travelled there and I have not - and Indian art and mythology. We drank coffee and ate chocolate and strawberries and cake, and finished up with wine and a lovely dish of pasta. A feast in every way. Another luminescent bead.

Tomorrow I will take a train to Geneva and be met by my friend Susan Tiberghien whom I have not seen since 2000 when we last taught together at the International Women's Writing Guild Conference. With five years to catch up on and many shared interests, I look foward to that too.

It occurs to me that I have not included any more quotes from DIVINE BEAUTY as I earlier promised I would, so perhaps that is a good way to finish up this morning. Here is one that touches my heart (one of many).

"Grace is the permanent climate of divine kindness. It suggests a compassion and understanding for all the ambivalent and contradictory dimensions of the human experience and pain. This climate of kindness nurtures the sore landscape of the human heart and urges torn ground to heal and become fecund. Grace is the perennial infusion of springtime into the winter of bleakness....
...In our times it is quite exceptional for a thing simply to be itself. The same is true of people. A slick politics of presentation and deliberateness now dominates most forms of presence and it is actually quite disarming to hear someone speak from their heart with no eye to the best camera angle. Such direct immediacy seems almost innocent and unsophisticated, yet it is so refreshing and real." (p. 238)

Until next time, then.....

Beads

2005-05-10T19:51:00.000-07:00

Almost a week has passed since I last wrote here. I've always loved Marion Milner's term, "bead memories," for the experiences that glow with a particular significance. I guess Virginia Woolf would have called them"Moments of Being" in the cottonwool of everyday life. So I shall simply describe several "beads."

On Thursday and again on Sunday I went to morning services at the Grossmunster to hear Bach Chorales and Cantatas. The music was beautiful, sung by the Bach Collegium Zurich and accompanied by their orchestra. Of all my favourite composers, Bach's music conveys an irrepressible joy and energy and affirmation of life that always feeds my heart and soul like no other. It was hard not to sing along, especially during the passages I know well, but I refrained, not wanting to shock the well-behaved Swiss folk surrounding me.

Yesterday held a big bead, one of my best so far in Zurich. Last weekend I'd called a woman who is part of the older generation of classical Jungian analysts although now retired at 85, and asked if I could visit her, after two people had told me how wonderful she is. I felt a little awkward on the telephone phone but immediately liked her response. "Why not?" she asked. "But I don't know if it will be wonderful. Let's just see how it goes."

Reader, it WAS wonderful. I arrived early at 4:30 - her home was a little tricky to find and she told me to feel free to come early for our 5 PM meeting - and left at 9:30, feeling heart and soul and mind refreshed and nourished. Body too, since she kept offering me Spruengli pastry and chocolate and I kept shamelessly accepting. Neither of us could have suspected how much we had in common but synchronicities kept appearing and delighted us both (although I'm observing my reticence to go into detail, probably because I don't know how she'd feel about it). She told me funny stories about her training with Marie Louise von Franz, and shared her passionate sense that the most important thing is to experience the world freshly, with new eyes, not assuming that we know what we are looking at from past experience. Oh, but she said it so much more eloquently than that. We flew from one topic to another - what a feast of conversation - and she asked me about my desire to "get this diploma," as she put it. She wanted to know about my writing, about my work with the Jungian Women's Writing Circle, about Marion's Leadership Training program. "Why do you want this piece of paper"? she challenged me. "You already are an analyst in every important sense - do you really need it?" I heard what she was saying and really took it in (there was more to that discussion, of course, but I will leave the rest in my soul, where it needs to simmer for now). At some point - I lost track of time but probably around 7:30 - her artist friend Gabi joined us and that created a whole new conversational dynamic, also rich and deep. Literature, art, music, film, psychology, all of it in the mix, and even moments of silence, which I always love in a deep discussion.

She gave me copies of several articles she'd written over the years (although she doesn't think of herself as a writer) and asked to see my books, so we'll meet again soon. Next time I will bring the chocolate! In fact I told her Steve is arriving in two weeks and she thought we should both come out next time so that may well happen.

The lectures and seminars are interesting but there's no one there with the depth and breadth of experience that this woman has (I can well understand what Virginia meant when she told me two hours with this woman were more enriching than ten hours of seminars). Of course some lectures are better than others but I have also been quite impressed at how much I clearly learned during the course of all the BodySoul Rhythms work I did over the past five years with Marion and her team. I think at one level that my new friend is right: I have indeed already trained in analysis - just not in the orthodox way that would get me the diploma. Whether I also want to do that is still an open question for now. But Marion's way of working with dreams and archetypal energy (in particular) is so profound and deep that it's hard to imagine anything better.

At the end of our meeting last night I told my new friend that I'd found our time together a pure and rich delight, and she said, "The feeling is entirely mutual." I left feeling radiant.

Today I went to the wonderful library at the "old" Kusnacht Institute and read, and talked with several other students. It was wonderful to feel surrounded by an endless number of fascinating books awaiting my attention. Most interesting was to go through the binder that lists every dissertation completed since the C.G. Jung Institute opened more than 50 years ago, over one thousand of them. So many familiar names and so many fascinating topics, including Marion's in 1979, which was later published as THE OWL WAS A BAKER'S DAUGHTER.

Enough for now. The sun actually came out this morning and I had high hopes but by early afternoon storm clouds loomed and it was very cold. I don't know when I was last this chilled in May. I hauled out my down comforter last night. But they promise me that Spring will come again...

Lilacs

2005-05-04T08:22:00.000-07:00

In the last week we have gone from 11 to 29 degrees, and I spent three days lounging in my shortest shorts and little summer t-shirts. Only at home, of course. Apparently the Swiss do not wear shorts in public and I would not wear these out in Vancouver either, except for jogging. But I did wonder whether I'd brought enough summer clothes as I climbed the hill back to my little nest after class, sweating and glowing with the heat. Now it is cooler again and grey, but apparently these dramatic changes are quite normal here.

I have never seen so much lilac in my life! It is in full bloom all through the city and I catch whiffs of its exquisite delicate scent as I walk through the streets. Every shade of dark purple, pink-purple, light lilac, white - huge trees all over. My favourite flowering tree of all and in such abundance. What glory! I thought as I walked and walked the other day that London in the spring and summer is like a big park, but Vancouver and Zurich are like endless gardens.

It was lovely to be out in the streets in broad daylight at 8 pm last weekend and see everyone in outdoor restaurants and simply walking the cobblestone alleys. I still feel delighted surprise at times that I am actually here in Zurich, doing what I've wanted to for so long. I've had an intense several days of lectures and seminars - plus a cold, which was not a good combination. I found myself so exhausted by the end of the weekend that it actually occurred to me, maybe I'm just too old for this - and then I woke up with a cold on Monday morning and realized that was reponsible for my depleted energy. Relief! I'm on the mend now and yesterday Virginia and I went to the Rietburg Museum of Asian Art and enjoyed the luscious Indian goddesses and the unabashed eroticism of lovemaking gods and goddesses. Then we ended up at her favourite quaint little Swiss cafe for coffee and cake in the Old Town, where the waiter entertained us with his cheeky English and enjoyment of his own humour. Virginia is on her way back to Calgary this morning and I will miss her warm-hearted extraverted companionship - although we will surely meet up soon, in Vancouver or Zurich or both. It was wonderful to have a buddy with whom I could laugh and share irreverent observations, and we kept discovering how much we have in common.

Now I will head into a quieter period, I think, before Steve arrives for two weeks. Tomorrow is a holiday and I will go to a morning church service in the beautiful Grossmunster to hear some Bach Chorales. I also want to do some reading, as I have really only dipped into Marie Louise von Franz from time to time, and I have several Jung Reading Seminars coming up soon. Unfortunately the library is not yet up and running but I'll take the train to Kusnacht again and spend a day in their wonderful library.

Must head out for milk and a few other things before my 10 am lecture. Perhaps I'll say more about the actual lectures and seminars another time. One last thing: I have discovered the wonderful Zurichberg behind my apartment - actually I live on the incline leading up it but I did not hike up until last weekend, and discovered fields of charming little private gardens full of flowers, and then at the edge of the woods, the most beautiful panaramic views of all Zurich and the lake, gleaming in the hot light. I will be there often, I know. And what a hike it is: about 300 steps to the edge of the woods, as good a work out as jogging, which I am not doing here. Until next time...

Rhythm

2005-04-29T21:05:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I had just arrived in Switzerland. I can't decide if it feels longer that I've been here, or if it seems just a few days ago that I was packing my bags in Vancouver. Maybe both. Time has a funny way of both condensing and expanding in a new environment and schedule. It certainly feels like too long since I've felt Steve's arms around me and his body in my arms. Yes, I do miss hugging the bodies I love. A little skin-hungry, although I received a sweet enthusiastic hug when a lovely young(er) Danish woman - but then they all seem younger these days - and I realized we are both "graduates" of Marion Woodman's Leadership Training program. Her face lit up and we spontaneously threw our arms around each other. "I feel like I just discovered a soul sister," I said. "You sure did," she laughed.

Yesterday I went to the original Institute in Kusnacht to hear a lecture on creativity and then sat by the lake with Virginia and Ingrid and discussed our lectures and seminars to date. We laughed about everything and nothing. The sun was warm and I enjoyed our serious and silly discussion and the whole range of topics we touched on. Later we met for a wonderful documentary titled "Rhythm Is It," about a collaboration between Simon Rattle and the Berlin Philharmonic and an English choreographer, Royston Maldoom, wherein 250 Berlin school kids and young people without previous dance experience put together a remarkable production of Stravinsky's "The Rites of Spring." But as fantastic as the production turns out to be, the deeper story involves some of the young people, mostly from under-privileged homes, for whom the experience is profound and transformative. The German film brochure describes the film as "a declaration of love for the dancing teenagers and their mentors, a film about the fascination of music, a film full of passion, respect, and joy of life." I would agree, but it is also gritty, and there is plenty of alienation, dejection, and hardship evident. The film is anything but sentimental - all the more wonder that the the passion and joy come through in such an authentic way.

There is more to say but the churchbells have just struck 10 pm and I am tired. Perhaps I'll write again soon.

Then, again...

2005-04-25T21:29:00.000-07:00

As ambivalent as I profess to be about this process, several enthusiastic emails from friends have drawn me back to the blog page. What a clumsy name - perhaps I'll refer to this as my update from Zurich instead.

Steve tells me Vancouver is still bathed in clear golden sunlight and here there are grey skies and showers. I'm ready for some more sunshine - we've really just had a day or two so far. It hasn't stopped me from wandering and exploring but that's surely much more fun without an umbrella impeding my view of the Alps. I compared annual rainfall in Vancouver and Zurich this morning (in a rare burst of energy for what the Internet provides) and discovered that while Vancouver's is just short of 44 inches a year, Zurich gets 42.5. I hope the next few months are dry ones here! It was hard enough to leave Vancouver during my favourite time of year but for a sun-bunny like me, this feels like I'm being cheated!

Today was a quiet introspective day. No lectures or seminars but I met with the Director of Studies, a warm and charming Swiss woman, fluent in five languages, who welcomed me with sincerity and expressed great interest in the work I've done with Marion Woodman over the past four or five years. I asked all my questions and left feeling the new training program is wide open with possibility and potential. Of course the semester is young and everything remains to be seen and experienced but I do feel good about it thus far.

Yesterday, Virginia from Calgary, Ingrid from Oslo, and I went to a tiny cinema, "Arthouse Commercio," to see "Touch the Sound," a fascinating film about Evelyn Glennie, the deaf Scottish percussionist. I loved her clear and radiant presence and her joyful celebration of what I would call synesthesia, although she would probably just say that her entire body hears the music, rather than "just" her ears. What really struck me was her reference to the human body as resonator - an integral part of the BodySoul Rhythms work with Marion. I can hear how much more resonance there is in my own singing voice (not that I use it much) and I feel my body much more finely tuned than before I began that work. Afterward Virginia and I jumped on the train to Einsiedeln and, at long last, I saw the famous and much-loved Black Madonna. She is exquisite, to be sure, but I want to go back when there are fewer people. We arrived just in time for the Vespers service. The monks' music was beautiful but what moved me most was their procession to the back of the church and obvious reverence for Black Mary, as they took their places and sang to her. I was even able to join in when the congregation sang two of my favourite hymns (in German, of course).

The remainder of this week will be busy with lectures and seminars, right through the weekend. The schedule is erratic and some weeks are very light while others are packed full. I know the days and weeks will fly by and in less than a month, Steve will be here, then Ursula, as we prepare for the BodySoul Writing course in France.

To finish up tonight, here is a quote from "Divine Beauty" - almost every page in the book is quotable - in keeping with his theme (with thanks to Yvonne, whose blog is chock full of wonderful quotes and poems).

"We have often heard that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. This is usually taken to mean that the sense of beauty is utterly subjective; there is no accounting for taste because each person's taste is different. The statement has another, more subtle meaning: if our style of looking becomes beautiful, then beauty wil become visible and shine forth for us. We will be surprised to discover beauty in unexpected places where the ungraceful eye would never linger. The graced eye can glimpse beauty anywhere, for beauty does not reserve itself for special elite moments or instances; it does not wait for perfection but is present already secretly in everything. When we beautify our gaze, the grace of hidden beauty becomes our joy and sanctuary." (p. 29)

I do love books that embody what they celebrate. This is a tender and graceful book.

Arrival

2005-04-23T18:30:00.000-07:00

Saturday, April 23, 2005.

I have been "entertaining" the possibility of writing a few lines here for some days now, and have decided to take the leap. This does not feel like an organic way to stay in touch with friends at home but having enlisted Yvonne's and Shirley's help in setting it up, and having promised quite a few people that "of course I will stay in touch," I will give it a try!

I have been in Switzerland for over a week now, and in Zurich since Monday. So much has happened - both outer and inner - that I don't quite know where to begin, but let it be with my arrival in Erlenbach (half an hour cab ride south of Zurich) last Friday at 3 pm - only to discover that I did not have a place to live. It turns out that the dear elderly woman who'd promised me a room was diagnosed with Alzheimer's a year ago and had lost track of the fact that the room was already in use. (There is more to the story but I don't feel like rehashing it right now.) Strangely I did not panic (maybe I was just too jet-lagged) and within fifteen minutes I'd called the Jung Institute in Zurich and told my sad story to one of the Administrators who immediately gave me the name and telephone number of her friend who had a room for rent less than ten minutes from the Institute. The next morning as I prepared to head into Zurich to see the room and attend our "Opening Semester Party" I received a call from my previous landlady's son-in-law offering me another (nicer) room in the house. Actually, since the elderly couple are being moved into an old folk's home as I write this, I would have had essentially the use of the whole house, including a gorgeous garden overlooking the Zurichsee, and a Steinway grand piano in the living room. Suddenly I had not one but two good prospects.

Well, here I am in Zurich. The room turned out to be a studio apartment which is what I'd always dreamed of having but thought I'd never be able to afford, and the landlady, while a little pixilated (sp?), is generous and eccentric and seems happy to have me here, having asked me several times already whether I'll be back in October. We went on a long walk this afternoon (I opted out of 6 straight hours of German lectures!) and tomorrow she leaves for Bali for two weeks. I can't get over my good fortune in getting what I'd dreamed of through such a strange, dare I say synchronistic, turn of events! From my large windows I see much of Zurich below me and the birds and church bells compete for my attention as I write.

I "took to" Zurich immediately in a way I never did to London or New York. It is a beautiful, gracious, civilized city, and about a month behind Vancouver in terms of Spring blooming, so I'm enjoying the blossoms for the second time around. I already feel comfortable here, as if I've been here several months rather than less than a week. As in Vancouver, I have everything I need within a 10-15 minute walk: the Institute, a large grocery store, a bank, post office, etc.

The opening party at the International School for Analytical Psychology (ISAP) was wonderful and not what I expected. We drank wine and chatted, ate, and then a Brazilian musician got us all drumming and dancing, training analysts and students alike, and I knew I'd come to the right place! I'm just sorry that I was exhausted and had to leave before the serious dancers got going!

Meanwhile, the lectures and seminars have begun and I am stimulated and inspired. There is a warmth and humanity to the place that I really appreciate and a sense of starting something new after all the anguish of the split from the Institute in Kusnacht. (Last night I dreamed that the two Institutes would offer about twenty lectures and seminars jointly soon - I'm not too sure what that means!) Last Sunday when I was still in Erlenbach I took a walk into Kusnacht and, I must say, there is something magical about the original C. G. Jung Institute, with its gorgeous setting and rose garden and the energy of so much of the Jungian world in and around it. But the psychic energy now is poisonous and I cannot be part of that. Everything I have heard since my arrival affirms that I made the right decision in coming to the new group instead.

One of my greatest delights in my little apartment is being able to listen to all of the music I uploaded onto my trusty little Mac I-Book (thank you, Yvonne, Brendan, Shirley!) with the help of superb speakers I bought just the day before I left. The sound quality is great and I have Bach and Mozart for company at breakfast, and a wide variety of other music the rest of the day. Email has not worked out so well - I have to do it over Shaw Webmail and that's slow and clumsy - or is it just me?

On my wander back from the Bahnhofstrasse - supposedly the most expensive shopping street in the world - I stopped into an English language bookstore and bought a lovely book called DIVINE BEAUTY: The Invisible Embrace, by John O'Donahue, which I am sure to quote here soon - it is a profound celebration and meditation on the importance of beauty in the world, a beloved theme of mine as well.

Enough for now. I still feel a little awkward - is this a letter? a journal entry? Am I pretending to write for myself, knowing you (who?) will be reading this? For now it is an experiment and I'll see how I feel about it tomorrow, next week, etc.

The Pregnant Virgin has arrived in Zurich and the pregnancy continues!