Icebergs
Today, while on my the while on my way to see my therapist, I took advantage of the long train from Cambridge to Brookline to catch up on my reading. I was in the middle of a chapter on the miracle of serendipity, which Webster's Dictionary defines as "the gift of finding valuable or agreeable things not sought for." Serendipity, it explains, seems to be a key element in enlightenment for those of us in the soul searching business. It's special kind of grace, it helps to heal and inspire, among other things, and its origins are quite mysterious.
The chapter recounts a story by Carl Jung, in which he refers to a therapeutic session he held with one of his patients.
She was highly intelligent, educated woman, but Jung found her rationalism and "geometrical" idea of reality a hindrance to her work in psychotherapy.
She conveyed to Jung a brilliant dream she had in which someone had given her a golden scarab, an expensive piece of jewelry. At about the same time, Jung hears a tapping on his window. A large flying insect seemed adamant about entering enter his dark office for reasons he did not know.
Jung walked over to the window and opened it, catching the insect in mid flight. To his amazement he found what he held in his hand to be a scarabaied beetle. So named for it's green gold color and most nearly resembles that of a gold scarab.
He walked over to his patient with bug in hand and said, "Here is your scarab."
That made a huge break through for her in therapy, and enabled her to think outside the box of rationalism.
Here we see a great example of the miracle of serendipity.
A while back, while pondering the nature of the human condition, and our subtle and sometimes not so subtle ways of interacting with each other, I came up with a concept I thought pretty apt at the time.
It was my theory that we human beings are much like icebergs. Much of who we are we choose to show each other is like much iceberg. I'll show you only ten percent of who I really am and what I think, the other ninety percent or so is submerged, hidden beneath the waters edge. A huge part of who and what we really are never breaches the surface.
In our personal relationships, romantic or otherwise, how much do we really know about the other person? How much are we revealing?
How much do I really know about myself? Again, the iceberg theory seems to hold up. There's a lot about me I'm finding out. Not all of it is good, and not all of it is bad. But one hundred percent of it relevant.
I explored these ideas with my therapist, Nancy. We spent our 50 minutes together doing what we try to do every week, reshape and expand the way I see the world.
When you take thought to the cosmic level, however, the iceberg theory might not be applicable. We are surrounded by a seemingly unending Universe, after all.
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