Saturday Morning, January 16, 2021

Masks Required

Pillar of Wisdom

Hey pal, could you give me a hand? Enoch stopped by the scaffolding and looked around. Up here! He gazed skyward, his eyes blinded by the sunlight reflecting off the marble column. What can I-- His words cut short. Over there, in my toolbox. Grab my one-inch chisel and toss it up. Enoch stepped back and bending down, rummaged through an entanglement of hammers, chisels, dried out coffee cups and sandwich wrappers. You'll know it. It has the word Mother engraved on it. Gift from mom, my first chisel. Amid the menagerie, Enoch fished out the tool, its metal edge sharpened by care. That's it. Now throw it up. I'll catch it. Enoch stepped back until the mason focused. Here it comes. He backed away, then with an underhand swing tossed the missile upward, continuing to back away. Got it! Thanks pal. What did you say your name was? Enoch cupped his hands to his mouth. Enoch. The mason smiled. Eunuch? What kind of name is that? He sang out in a Viennese voice. Funny guy, thought Enoch. Where's Jabulon, my mason?

Lord Shiva as Nataraja, bronze, 11 1/2" H.
Human fabric, woven across seven continents, all hauntingly familiar.

The tradesman began hammering. Called in sick. Union sent me over. Enoch absorbed this information. And your name? The tradesman leaned over the platform rail. Gus, from the 102. Enoch hesitated. Gus? What kind of name is that? He folded his arms across his chest. Greek to me, laughed the mason. I'm here from the west, over the Aegean way. My normal specialty is Parthenons, but hey, stone is stone. What are these words I'm carving into this column anyway? Never seen half of them before.

Three volume set - The History of Four-Footed Beasts and Serpents and Insects. E. Topsel & T. Muffet,
Da Capo Press, New York, 1967

Enoch stepped forward. These are the words of God, wisdom for all humanity. Silence punctuated his words. No kidding. Well, I hope your God has a sense of humor. Spelling is not my strong point. Trying to fix my Aramaic mess now. My L's look like E's, my D's like B's. What did you say this pillar was for? Enoch stood tall. Words of Wisdom. Oh, responded Gus. You mean like a classic. Don't worry about my mistakes Eunuch, no one reads those anyway.

Whispering Down the Lane

The birth of birth. Humanity's greatest mystery, this moment now lost among errant adjectives, misspelled nouns, misdirected verbs, translations, dissertations, evaluations. All sliced and diced by time. Is it any wonder the human race is so screwed up? There is a tale for every tourist. A plot for every pilgrim. A belief for every body. How do we handle this conundrum? Not too well. But with the advancement of modern medicine, hope arrives.

Plycraft armchair & ottoman.
A must for every psychoanalyst patient.

Welcome to recognized clinical psychology. We stumbled through millennia to reach this waypoint. All came to fruition in the nineteenth century when Doctor Wilhelm Wundt stepped into the batter's box. His contribution was isolating these problems into a separate medical discipline. Laboratories. Recognition set credence for cure. His influence was magnetic.

Among all the people attracted to this field two standout. Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung. The former introduced psychoanalysis. Freud concentrated on the brains Id, a spot where sexual response harbors. Carl Jung felt Sigmund's anchor was far too short. Jung expanded psychoanalysis into comprehensive psychic energy. All was on the couch, not simply gender. This divergent approach introduced another brain component. Ego. Both had plenty. Their friendship stressed. One wonders who they consulted for their treatment? But the winners are the patients. The more alternatives offered the afflicted, the better. A mountain has many paths. All trails lead to the top.

Carved bone & wood Tabayag, 5 1/4" H.

Container to hold lime for betel nut chewing. Derived from Asia's Areca palm tree, the betel nut is a stimulant similar to the western world's coffee. Betel nut is acidic and bitter in taste. Lime helps to neutralize the palate though, in time, one's teeth turn black, lips red. Symbology is never invisible. Marks of mankind, footprints in the sand, still surround our daily lives, subtle reminders linking everyone to his or her distant past.

Mixed Metaphors and Messages

The home suffered more from neglect than neatness. Although piles of debris filled each room, the gems sparkled. Our path plowed from the kitchen into the dining and living rooms and onto the bedrooms repeating a pattern we have experienced many times. We tread lightly.

Illustration - Carl Jung's 2009 reprint, The Red Book, First Edition.
Between 1913 and 1914, Jung recorded and illustrated many of his visions, fantasies, and imaginations. This, his Black Book, had been sequestered away until the twenty-first century when the Jung Foundation and W.W. Norton & Co. published this reprinted edition.

There were signs of curiosity everywhere. A brilliant mind had preceded our arrival. The owner had had a very fulfilling life. These foreshadowing clues offered us little preparation for entering that final room. A Howard Carter poignant moment.

The single door in the hallway was almost missed as the flow through the house led one away not towards. But there it was. Closed. Forbidding. Do Not Enter covered the door without one word written. The knob felt cold, resisting a turn. We pressed forward. The door creaked open, screaming violation. We stepped into the soul of the decedent. These experiences are humbling. Unforgettable. Never diminishing. Although the room was designed as a bedroom, the layout spoke more. Several sofas and chairs invited relaxation. A small antechamber hinted waiting room. Diplomas decorated the walls. Milestone markers in one's life. Once this threshold was crossed, one's perspective changed. Inviting, not intimidating. Two long walls were jammed with books. Subjects startling. Here lived and worked a Renaissance woman.

Judging a Book by its Cover

A person can own the finest painting, displayed stage center. Or the best period highboy, commanding the living room. Perhaps it's silver, glass, or jewelry. All tell us a story, but only a chapter. Nothing equates totality like a library. Nothing. Here on the shelves rest a person's deepest interests. Passion. Fear. Joy. Anger. And above all, love. Displayed for the world to bear witness.

Three bronze Asian figures: Shiva, her four arms representing the four cardinal points, her role, destruction & creation; Garuda, half eagle, half man, able to defend; Indra riding Erawan, a white elephant following Indra wherever he traveled. 4 1/2" to 9" H.

Books are an extension of intellect. Knowledge leads to truth, truth to personal fulfillment. The greatest gift of all. Our decedent in this home was a trained Jungian psychoanalyst. The uninitiated would say, if these walls could only talk.

Figures found in dreams. A very close similarity found in Carl Jung's Red Book. The Asian figure to the right is mirrored in Aladdin's Cave of Wonders. The world's myths and legends all swim in the same cosmic pool. A strong message reinforced by the late Joseph Campbell.

The enlightened know better. They do. All one need do is to breathe deep. Several shelves held a fascinating array of books. Jungian psychology incorporates the human trail of belief, myth, and legend. These formulate one's psychic energy. Theology and iconography, trails leading back into the entrails ot time. Some dust covering several books caught our eye. A finger swipe confirmed our suspicions. The white powder was distinctive. A quick taste authenticated our inkling. Yes, no doubt about it. Marble dust.

Hey Eunuch, thanks for giving me the opportunity to help build your dream. Enoch smiled. You're welcome Gus. The mason continued. A pillar of wisdom. Imagine that. Let's hope somewhere down the line humanity will take a moment to read it. Enoch shook Gus's hand. It is something we all pray for.