It was another tidy Saturday morning, Zoom style
At the Jung Foundation in New York City
Where the instructor, a psychologist, will discuss her book
During the day I walk around the sun
Counting steps like some longitudinal
Freak, mainly on my fingers bent
With age, a condition named after
The night opens on itself, with atmospherics
Consistent with the dream space, shining
On mountaintops that ring the field of inquiry
I had just finished a final draft of a war novel, “When War Becomes Us,” when Russia invaded Ukraine and turned the world map upside down. Russia has been accurately labeled a criminal, pariah nation and much of the West has shut Russia out. Ukraine has responded…
The C.G. Jung Foundation of New York City has been lifesaver during the Pandemic, offering a range of courses in how to cope with psychological stress. But the organization is also very attentive to the creative needs of its…
2014, thieves tried to steal the urn containing the ashes of Sigmund Freud and his wife located in a crematorium in north London, not far from where I was born. The urn, decorated with an image of Dionysus, the Greek god of wine and revelry, dated from the 4th…
I have rarely started reading a book that has already earned so much response, some exquisite, some leaden, from some of my favorite places like The New Yorker, The Guardian, The New York Times and elsewhere. I…
I love fairy tales, the Brothers Grimm, the maiden who lost her hands to the devil, and the girl in the lovely red shoes who dances up a psychological storm. I remember to always be attentive to animals and dwarfs in the tales. I love all the metaphors, the…
She read Boccaccio’s “Famous Women” slowly, taking in all the stories of the mythical heroines, reflecting on their successes and failures, and their wisdom and humanity. She was taking notes and taking names in her journal.
That night Colette dreamed that she was a robed warrior, a samurai; her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and a knife rested between her teeth. She steadied herself on this medieval stage holding up a mirror that Savonarola had not yet crushed, praising her…