Dive into the blue...

Where does attraction live?

In our heads?

In our hearts?

In the vagaries of the autonomic nervous system?

Heading into darkening skies, stars flickering into vision, twilight. Following a path that was always there. As the sky dims a sensation of momentum and gravity brings you to the edge of a lake. Here the smooth water is so deeply blue, so silent. The air is perfumed, everything is waiting, and the trees seem to quiver as the moon rises. A quiet hush surrounds this eternal infinity. 

This moment is old, it is primal, it is universal.

And all it takes is your total surrender.

As self dissolves into the void.

--

I imagine that Kit would assess my previous post as indicating my closeness to a resolution?  As if by naming the harms done to me in the name of ethical conduct, I'm showing that I'm ready to move on.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

Nothing has changed, nothing can change. I can't resolve the fragments, too many missing pieces. Hieroglyphs without the Rosetta stone.

My judgement, in that post is clarity. Clarity isn't a remedy, it's a consequence of not giving up when seeking answers. As if finally the patient demonstrates a classic symptom such as hydrophobia; lifting the water to his shaking lips, but his grip, his panic, his body is out of control. The glass shatters. He cannot drink, and it is too late . The virus is in his nervous system, his brain. There is no cure. 

Diagnosis suggests remedies, it is never the remedy.

Seeking Factor X and understanding is the pearl in the oyster, could be another metaphor but the oyster would rather not have been so irritated and vexed enough to create the pearl. 

 Understanding and clarity are valuable. 

But nothing has changed about how my body responded to his voice and his energy. I don't think that anything is going to change it. and I feel that this is entirely due to how he views love. If he viewed it in a realistic and practical, dare I say pragmatic way, he would have simply described his feelings about me.

By deflecting and diverting, by answering nothing - I can only gain clarity about his process, but no resolution. I think that this is unforgivable. I couldn't forgive myself if I'd done it, I would need to apologise and step up.

Meanwhile I have looked high and low for psychological, or other theories or reasons to explain to myself why him? None of the usual's apply. I was falling for him whilst being romanced and willingly seduced by the man who still tries to win me. I never stopped loving and wanting 'my true love', and despite everything (me marrying someone else for instance) there is always a connection there. 

I know that when I turned up for therapy I might have seemed a likely candidate for erotic transference, but one of the things Kit seemed to find most frustrating was how I didn't suffer from low self esteem, or feel enlightened by recalling my childhood difficulties. I was shattered by events in the present tense, my identity as constructed in connection with my husband had been pretty much murdered. Focusing brought me the images of myself in bags, left out with the rubbish. After that the image was of hiding in a dark corridor, having to silently pick shotgun pellets out of my flesh. I was fortunate in having enough roles and ways to be in the world so I didn't 'blink out'. But I experienced any questioning from Kit about how my parents had treated me as deeply undermining, and the very last thing I'd require. I needed to keep any fragments of presently untroublesome memory in tact. It is very different when a person presents with troubling childhood memories! But that wasn't me. I'd already done the 'being disappointed with parents' trip! And I'd got to peace.

Also I'd had years to dig down and create a firm foundation of Jungian concepts, plus a deep dive into Buddhism. I'd had over thirty years of meditation practice, and then got through some of the most challenging life experiences available...

Hard to say this, but all I needed from a therapist was someone who spoke feelings, so I could talk feelings with them. I'd experienced that before, so I expected it. 

Because it didn't happen, I was paying instead for conversations that took both of us in unusual directions. I thought that the benefit of this stretching and exploring, was mutual...

And I will never know.

The dreaded Kohuts!

And, nothing has changed, if I saw him again I'd simply melt in a mixture of joy and lust. The whatever it is about him bypasses my frontal lobe. And I dive into the blue. 

The locus ceruleus is the 'blue' spot deep in the base of the brain. 

I imagine it as a lake; blue black indigo, surrounded by midsummer forests, a full moon, stars and fireflies. This is where the unwary may catch a glimpse of the Huntress and be turned into a stag like Actaeon. 

Or where the followers of Dionysus gather before dancing into the Summer fields.

The locus ceruleus creates epinephrine, probably dopamine too. It doesn't listen to verbal language, it speaks feelings. 

My conclusion is, that what has happened is inexplicable by psychological theories. And completely describable if I use concepts of spirit, soul, and mythology.