HOLD ALL CALLS. JUNG WAS RIGHT

My brain is swollen tight up against my skull, and my heart is about to break my ribs. No. It’s not a medical emergency. It’s just time to retreat to my introvert for some recovery time. I’ll tell you why, and then I’m withdrawing until I feel like getting back into the extraverted fray again.

Swollen heart. I spent time this past week with my college roommate and her husband – in Maine. Even had a whole lobster, gift of other Maine friends. Overlooking the water, of course. Oh, and a brief swim in a very cold lake. But it’s the friendship that counts. And that continued with a trip to New London for a Connecticut College reunion. (It was Connecticut College for Women then.)

We don’t look like our yearbook photos any more, and widowhood is almost as common as toothpaste, but zoom in close and there is community warmer even than it was when we graduated. “Wise Women” was the theme, and that we should be – lots of experience to ripen us. “Mrs. Job” and my forgiveness books were included in a signing at the bookstore. No surprise – I was the oldest author there, but in the group attending were rows of the CC scarves that mark our class. Would that everyone could have such a rich store of friends. OK. So much for the heart.

As for the swollen brain, I’ve been deep into getting to know my magical website – still not released to the public, but the work of some very clever people. I have more to do on my part, but I need time out. Remember Jung’s opposites? Every once in a while the extravert has to retreat for replenishment. I’ll be back before too long with the bells and whistles (well, sort of) of my new web site.

Karl Jung, King Lear, Mrs. Job, Mrs. Chapman, and the California fire

I'm starting over again on this one. Lost my first try. And wouldn't you know it, 'cause that's basically my theme. Jung's "opposites." I'm sure it's not the way he would say it, but every once in a while I/we just have to yield to the opposite. Lately, that's what's been going on for me. I just want to retreat into passively reading and pull away from all that socially conscious activity. Oh, I can't really do that, and I have been following through on things that have already captured me. There's doing my share to get the write-a-thon going at church for Amnesty International, and a bit of follow through on our intention to establish some kind of restorative justice program at the Presbyterian church up the street from me. And meetings with students whose theses I'm advising.

Of course, I can't leave Mrs. Job behind.  Right now (for a price) someone at iUniverse is examining her carefully to be sure she conforms to Chicago style. Next (for a fee) someone else will proofread her. I don't know how long it will take before I get feedback on that. Something in me -- perfectionism? the need to be right? -- had me going through her several times with a fine-toothed comb before sending her off on that next adventure. Not too bright, huh? I suppose it's like cleaning the house before the cleaning crew comes to be sure they don't find too much dirt, hoping, on the other hand, that they'll find something, so the money isn't paid out in vain. The next phase will be covers, front and back, and marketing. I've collected some really nice blurbs for that back cover. When will she be available for purchase? I don't know. Next time I'll be more knowledgeable about the process.

And why mention King Lear? Back when I was a Sophomore at Connecticut College (for Women, way back then) I got a B+ on my King Lear paper in the Shakespeare course, with the suggestion that I should become a Psychology major. I've never been sure whether that was a subtle put-down, but whatever, a psychologist I am and have been. But now, in pulling back, I've tried to act out the dream of sitting in a comfortable chair, reading for the fun of it. Of course, the first thing I do is fall asleep, but waking I have been doing some reading. I've have found that I can use Amazon.com's wish list to keep track of what I'm interested in getting to, and it does pay off for them, as in the gift certificate I got for my birthday. So, of the three I received recently, the first I opened was Paul Brians' Common Errors in English Usage. Amazingly, I didn't fall asleep. Instead, I spent an hour reading through from "a" through "d" of what is intended to be a reference book.  I guess that's what happens when you've been raised in a family where dinner table conversation was about the use of language (along with some religion and a smattering of politics.) So, I'm thinking. maybe I am at heart an English major. But then I started in on Foster's How to Read Novels Like a Professor, and found myself reading only the first sentence of each paragraph. So much for being mis-directed by my Shakespeare teacher.

About Mrs. Chapman? -- My landlady when I taught at the University of Vermont and dated Lou. In fact, she was one of the three non-family members at our little wedding. Somehow I thought she would go on forever being my Vermont friend, but on October 23 she died at home at the age of 100 after a brief illness of three weeks. I miss her. 

Life is a journey, and I feel a little sad about the fact that my parents will never get to see the DVD my son-in-law is putting together of photos from the 1955 trip I took with them to Sweden and Denmark, complete with reading from my mother's diary. Sometimes I wish I believed they were still watching my life here.

And the California fires? I'm happy to say that my friend in Santa Barbara escaped damage to her home, though it hit pretty close to her.

Oh yes, How is it that I have this time to retreat from the world? It turns out that one of the first places people save money when there's a downturn in the economy is on "luxuries" like visits to a psychologist. Here's where one of Lou's sayings comes into play. "Turn a Defeat into a Victory." And so, I'll enjoy this down time before the holidays arrive.