December 17- One Step at a Time

Am I yearning to become Nietzsche’s Übermensch now?

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If so, I need to integrate all parts of me and balance as many parts as I can. My body is behind my mind to the point that I try to drag it further on, to carry it, but there is an invisible unknown force that pushes against it like gravity. It makes my body feel heavy, like Virginia Woolf’s when she put stones in her pockets before she jumped into the river.

But I want to live and move forward.

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I know this pain in my body is not all mine. I know it has the memory of my ancestors registered on its footprints. Echoes in a never-ending tuel, or a locked dark chamber. But does my chronic fatigue come from all those pains? If so, we almost all might find it hard to walk and need to rest each ten minutes or slow down. What about those who run marathons or have lively, vigorous bodies?

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In other ways my body is ahead. It senses incompatibility and misalignment long before my mind can explain it. When my body feels unsettled somewhere or there is tension in it, I know I don’t belong there and something is wrong.

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I feel part of something vaster, something larger than life that transcends beyond the surface of existence and weaves the universe. And at the same time, I seem to be curious about the functions of love. Is it something human, or deeply ingrained in all nature? Was it there before matter emerged that could move and breathe?

Before the begiing of everything, was the sky bored and in search of souls, leaving traces of a feeling that goes beyond ego on its imprint?

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The other day I was thinking: what would happen if we could invent a machine that would measure love? Love seems like the fifth dimension that was not originally from the earth. Like time, love seems to have remained a mystery even neuroscience and cognitive scientists caot completely unravel. We have endeavored to harness time with the invention of clocks, but love remains out of measure. It is mistaken with lust, idealization, fantasy, projection, mirroring, and trauma bonding.

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Is it just that some of us are more idealistic? If you describe love as divine and sacred, don't you fall into the same trap your mind already knows? Is that why we idealize love as otherworldly? For even if it is, how can we earthly creatures ever grasp its divinity or perceive it for that matter?

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Isn’t this idea in contrast with Jung’s light and shadow? Are some of us basically suppressing the shadows of love and projecting our future hope into the hands of this mystery? Or is divine love truly somewhere out there, as Plato points out with Eros? If it is out of reach, why is our mind grappling with it? Can we say that if we can think about something, it means that it must exist? Or maybe it manifests only in fleeting moments, and we take those glimpses as the truth or the higher reality of Plato's world.