Some years ago in the pages of Dream Network Journal, I described a “conversation” between two women painters. The conversation was not in words, but in paintings. A painting would be sent, and the recipient would respond with a painting and this alternation would continue for some time. Finally, the whole set was exhibited in a gallery. It was stunning.

Years later, Paco Mitchell and I began to do something of the same thing, only in words. He would send me an email on a certain topic we’d taken up and I’d return one—back and forth, alternating. This ultimately became a full-fledged dialogue, and was published this year as a book (Dreams, Bones & the Future: A Dialogue. For information on this book see http://dreamsbonesfuture.com).

During the course of our dialogue, something else began to occur. This began one day from an email I sent to Paco describing my experience at Tully’s Coffee Shop in downtown Seattle. I had been mulling over Goethe’s admonition to really look at what one sees and to find the story there. In doing so, I looked out the windows of Tully’s and saw FedEx and Costco delivery trucks. But in looking at what I saw actually it was “Fex” and “Coo.” The pillars and window casings blocked some of the letters. In looking further Sterling Bank became ling Bank, Key Bank became Key. A Sale became Sal and the UPS truck became UP. I did not make these up in anyway. They were just “there” if I looked instead of experiencing what I was seeing that is so readily filled in by the mind.

So I went into fictive space and waited for storymind to come forward with some “continuation.” This is what “formed itself” and “presented itself” to me: Sal is a teller at Ling Bank. He does not yet know that Fex and Coo have decided that ending it is the key. They have been held up by matters that do not concern us. You may not agree. That’s fine, it is not a requirement. You will see. I sent this to Paco to tell him about my experience.

What I got back was a continuation of the story of Fex & Coo. This began a long series of alternating fictive pieces which now has grown to several hundred pages. This approach to writing a novel is not altogether new, but the experience of doing it holds many surprises. First, one must let go of any ego investment in how the story is going to go. Second, each received new piece is an occasion for a cascade of unexpected and unintended narrative development. It is all so surprising! We now have two other novels in process written in this form of alternating authorial narrative: Deathling Crown Lottery and The Museum of Indifference. These two projects began in dreams I had that I sent to Paco and his response was his own storymind continuation: not interpretations, not analyzing, not explaining. This is an astonishing way to relate to dreams.

It was not surprising then when I posted “Goiling” that Paco sent along his continuation. That I will post next time.

FICTIVE SPACE & STORYMIND

In the last post, I illustrated how a word leaps outside one’s conscious intention and becomes a “spark” (or “flirt” to use Mindell’s language). These sparks are ephemeral and unless consciousness attends to them, they are short-lived and disappear. They may recur in dreams in one form or another often without any recognition. In this instance, I described attending to the word “moiling” and the word work I did. This was then followed by a dream which presented me with 9 “unreal” words. It is my habit now in working with my dreams to put the search for “meaning” on hold, keeping interpretation at bay, and doing what is necessary to what I call “entering fictive space.” I try to empty my mind of its busyness and literally face a blank page (a piece of paper or an empty writing space on the computer). If there is any “intention” in this, it is to be fully present in fictive space to what I call “storymind.” The mind functions to produce stories. We live in these stories without a great deal of awareness of the full extent to which this is true. The readiness to produce stories is one of the primary features of fictive space. So in this space, I “wait” for storymind to begin its weaving. This may occur first in an image, or perhaps a word, or a sound, even a smell—it can be anything. I am in no sense “trying” to do something, but concentrating on being receptive to what presents itself. In working with the dream of the nine “unreal” words, what came was seeing a sign with the word “Goiling” on it. Once the fictive space becomes animated in this way, I begin to function something like a scribe, writing out what comes. One of the hallmarks of being in fictive space and with storymind alive, is that the whole process is effortless. Here is what happened.

GOILING

Along a path amidst dense vegetation a sign points to Goiling straight ahead puzzling the young Miss; not the sign nor the pointing but the word there. Must be a town she concluded.

“Hello! Is anyone here?” Seeing no one, she began heading on to Goiling when the silence was broken.

“Anyone left quite a while ago Miss, in search of.”

She looked all about but could not locate the source of this odd utterance. The voice was not threatening so much as strange sounding, as if a muted fog horn was hidden amongst the foliage.

“In search of what?” she countered.

“No my dear, What is just over there. What would never go off in search of.”

She looked around her and could see no one and she said as much a bit louder than intended and with an edge of annoyance she didn’t mean either. But there it was.

“But surely you can see all of us. We are all here except Anyone. Perhaps you are not looking my dear. Looking is quite different than seeing as you must know.”

“I know no such thing!”

“Well, now, that’s a treat to be sure. It isn’t your everyday traveler who knows No Such Thing. It’s because he is constantly moving, not rooted at all. Strange for our kind, you know.”

“And what kind are you then?”

“You’ve eyes, Miss. Perhaps you should use them.”

“What’s your name then?

“No, What’s not my name. My name, should you ever have need of it, is Zoil, after the color of my leaves.”

“Ok, then. Mr. Zoil, thank you for that. But what color is zoil exactly?”

“Zoil is zoil of course. You’ve eyes, as I said, but they don’t seem to be much use to you. Perhaps after the match you will be able to see more clearly. Of course that requires true looking.”

“Match?” She didn’t want to say “what” again as it only seemed to cause trouble.

“Of course, my dear, today is Goiling Day. That’s why the sign is there.”

“You mean you go to Goiling on a particular day, like going to market on Sundays?”

“No, Miss. We all go a-Goiling, not to Goiling.”

“What is Goiling,” she said as exasperated as she felt.

“No, no, no. My dear. What never goes Goiling. What is firmly planted.”

“I do so wish you’d let me see you. All I see are plants, plants everywhere.”

“But my dear, you are seeing us.”

“But plants don’t talk!”

“Ah, after the match, you will know Differently.”

“Differently?”

“Yes, Differently is one of our master teachers; teaches koiling, he does. Come now, you must be off. It’s time it is to go a-Goiling.

Those of you who know my book Words As Eggs, know that I can’t leave words alone, or, more accurately, words won’t leave me alone. I’ll be reading along and, without warning, a word will leap at me, tethering me to it until I give in and take up what I call  “word work” with it.

     The most recent experience occurred while reading James Howard Kunstler’s  acerbic critique of artist Damian Hurst, in the course of which he used the phrase, “Zombies moiling outside the building.” Moiling leapt at me. I had not seen the word used in years, and even longer since I used it. I recalled its meaning as “toiling,” and this sent my mind into an associative spree, with “boiling, coiling, poiling, roiling, soiling.” Hey, at my age, the mind being spontaneously associative is a good sign, neurogenesis and all that. As I began my word work, I saw that the word derived most immediately from the Middle English moillen, meaning “to soften by wetting.” As you can see, it’s not immediately clear how we get from “soften by wetting” to “toil.” Such word puzzles I find very useful in keeping an active mind. In looking through the historical usage of the word (as is possible in the Oxford English Dictionary), one begins to see it and often a phrase will make the picture easier to see: to toil in muck and mire. To dig deeper into the pre-history of the word, we find its Indo-European root to be mel-1, which refers to “melt, soften, slime” The root is intertwined with mel-5, meaning “grind, mill.” Sloppy work, one might say, as befits the toil of Zombies.

     These words that grip me, often lead to dreams as well. Such was the case with moil. In the dream, I am writing on a blackboard and though I am not aware of any students, I am teaching. I am listing words related to moil: goiling, hoiling, joiling, koiling, loiling, voiling, woiling, xoiling, zoiling. As you can probably tell, none of these words I am listing are “real” words. I am about to ask the class to take one of these words and to develop a meaning for it. At this point I wake up.

     We live in a time where we are quite aware of words newly made up—most especially words related to the advancements in technology. Now here is a dream that introduces nine new words. (How does the dream know these words I’ve never experienced before?) So to linger with the dream itself, rather than ask what the dream means, I focus on what the words mean. In a subsequent post, I’ll let you know what I did with this “task.”

     But now, let me ask you to focus on this task as if you were a student in this class of mine.

I did my analytical training in the late 60s and early 70s. I was

fortunate to have met and been taught by many people who

had direct experience with Jung. From time to time I’ll post

a memory of those times.

     One such figure was the gnostic scholar, Gilles Quispel, an

extraordinary many by any measure. He was instrumental in

securing the Jung Codex for purchase by the Institute in Zurich

as a birthday present for Jung.

     The memory that stands out to me is one training seminar

in the early days. At one point, as we were discussing the nature

of “mystery,” he stopped us. He put his index figure to his lips

as if telling us to hush a bit. Then he said something I’ll never

forget:

Mystery is not to be solved, or resolved, or dissolved. Mystery

is to be embraced, loved, and out of that will comes one’s

deepest sense of life, meaning, and purpose.

I remember thinking then that dreams are a mystery and what Quispel

was saying was true of dreams as well.

The Final Interlude: Advancing Age & Life’s End by Lee Roloff and Russell Lockhart

will be available shortly. If you would like a complimentary pdf copy please email

Russ Lockhart at ral@ralockhart.com.

Here is a spiral image of the Table of Contents

Hi all,

Many thanks for your joining ral's noteboook blog. I have not been very attentive to posting but this will be changing soon. You should be getting an email when I post and if not, let me know at ral@ralockhart.com.

My best wishes,

Russ

The republication of Words as Eggs is now available for purchase.

http://www.amazon.com/Words-As-Eggs-Psyche-Language/dp/0911783008/ref=sr_1_3?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1366466153&sr=1-3&keywords=russell+lockhart

Re-publication of Russell Lockhart's WORDS AS EGGS.

As timely now as it was when first published thirty years ago!

Quietly passionate and urgently intent, this book belongs
to the very best tradition of depth psychology. It appeals
first of all to the intelligently psychological reader who wants
new modes of understanding. Lockhart offers countless
insights to analysts and counselors in daily practice. His
voice is original, undogmatic, sensible and wise.

--Spring Publications

Words as Eggs is a profound and moving exploration of
the messages of dreams found in the images and in
language chosen to describe the experience of dreams.
Words are the “eggs” of mystery and revelation as a
dreamer discovers the “history of meaning in the language”
the ego has yet to grasp, yet seems to know in dreams!
Lockhart is a guide for a greater consciousness as psyche
utters the dream experience. Yes, psyche “speaks” but
also “knows”! The dreamer can learn from dreams in ways
hat simply astound. Russell Lockhart’s brilliant book can
awaken this astonishment.

--Lee Roloff, Ph.D., Jungian Analyst

A dream comments on an accidental coffee spill

To illustrate "otherness," I take close-up photographs of coffee spills, oil patterns in the street, bark of trees, clouds in the sky—literally anything that is not a product of my direct intention, but of "something else." This something else captures my fancy and stimulates my imagination. I pay close attention to the experiences these found images bring forth in me. I call this way with images a "Goethean way of seeing" to contrast it with the highly intentioned "Newtonian way of seeing," What one finds in this odd activity (which, of course, is itself intentional) is that images so captured "speak" in ways that would be difficult to come by from intention alone. In this sense they are like found dreams.

Experience in "seeing" these images, that is the "finding" of them, I experience as a gift for which a polite "thank you" is not enough. This note sets the stage for a blog on this theme of  the accidental image for which this bit of exposition may be taken as a sample post.

After dinner one evening, I spilled some coffee on a ceramic table surface (a wonderful surface for coffee spills!) Before the table was cleaned off, I took a picture of this spill, and added it to my collection without examining is closely. Later, I had a dream. I was in my studio area and I a voice called out: "only riding the moon enables one to see the coming guest." I'm still not sure whether I was hearing another's voice, or that my own thoughts had voiced themselves in this way (it has happened before). I knew that the voice--whatever its source--was talking about this most recent spill. Now in looking at the image above (on which I have used some editing tools to bring out the image in order to see it better, the original being very light), I invite you to see the figure "riding" the Crescent moon, looking out at the earth, and looking at that approaching"figure" the dream calls the coming guest. [...to be continued...]