At the same time as I’ve been preparing for and doing the missions of this adventure, I’ve been experiencing a bit of a dark night of not only the soul, but also of — and here it’s okay to laugh because it is funny — the colon. Yes it’s funny, but it’s also kicking my butt, pun intended. The two dark nights, the psychological and the physical, are clearly connected. With both, I’m having trouble eliminating indigestible substances; in the case of the soul, you might call them traumatic experiences, the earlier ones generally being the more potent. There are things that I can’t let go of, in other words. Since I was a child, my gesture has been to desperately hold on to stuff, to always keep it together, to not offend (such as with stories of my bowel habits) — a Freudian would perhaps point to some crisis during my anal phase. I imagine such a clinician would also reduce my whole Freehoodship enterprise to some sort of anal phase compensation. But it isn’t that at all or only that, it’s rather my finally exhaling after holding my breath for so long. It’s clear to me that this crisis and my adventure are not accidentally sharing the same epoch of my life. Its also clear to me that the whole Cartesian mind/body separation paradigm fantasy is dissolving in me before my very eyes — and painfully. Just another manifestation of the integration I’ve been talking about!
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