Chronicles of a Wandering Soul

The Hero's Journey

2011-12-21T04:02:00.000+01:00

From Enemy, Cripple, Beggar

The hero who searches for new paths in his heart and soul often lets hints and hunches guide him forward. Yet, he also needs to be equipped with courage to search beyond the boundaries of common ground and with humbleness towards the unknown that lies ahead of him. He must also carry a bagful of questions and concerns, curiosity and conflict, doubt and fear; “Every man hath the right to doubt his task, and to forsake it from time to time; but what he must not do is forget it.” Paulo Coelho, The Fifth Mountain, p. 53.

Erel Shalit titles are on Sale now at Fisher King Press.

Mel Mathews is the author of a series of novels that portray a modern man's struggles (the Hero's Journey) as he goes against cultural and religious norms, and the grains of his upbringings, to emerge a renewed man guided by his own inner truth and hard-won wisdom.

Eros Book Tour

2011-11-20T01:26:00.001+01:00

Planning is underway for a 2012 book tour for Jungian Analyst, Ken Kimmel, author of Eros and the Shattering Gaze: Transcending Narcissism.

This timely book reveals the pervasiveness of a culturally and historically embedded narcissism underlying contemporary men's erotic and romantic fantasies, that distorts their understanding of what it really means to love. The book is filled with tales of love and loss, from ancient myth, medieval legend, Western classical literature, and contemporary film. Its template derives from "The Tale of Psyche and Amor", and poignant clinical vignettes and dreams from Ken's thirty years of practice bring to life the major themes of narcissism and its transcendence.

Ken has developed a number of lectures and seminars based on chapters in Eros and the Shattering Gaze, focusing on such topics as:

"The Burn-Wound of Eros - Transcending Narcissism"
"Predator Beneath the Lover"
"The Grail Wound"
"Men's 'Split-Feminine' - Mother, Lover, Virgin, Whore"
"Saturn's Wounded Eros"
"The Capacity To Love: Transcending the 'Heat-Death' of Eros

Here are what distinguished Jungian authors are saying about Eros and the Shattering Gaze:

". . . Attempting the rescue of authentic eros from its fear-driven shadow of predation is a work that will engage most of us at some point in our relational lives. We should be grateful for the insights with which this book is studded, for they can enlighten the labors of learning to love."

—John Beebe, author of Integrity in Depth

"A skillful and articulate interweave of the best of traditional views on 'relationality' and more contemporary critique. The vivid clinical vignettes bring the arguments alive and the result is a stimulating and fresh take on this ever-timely topic. . . ."

—Andrew Samuels, author of The Plural Psyche

". . . The contemplative and self-reflective reader who seeks to grasp the full measure of this rich manuscript can expect to gain substantially in both knowledge and inner maturation."

—Mario Jacoby, author of Individuation and Narcissism:

The Psychology of Self in Jung and Kohut

If your society or institute is interested in planning a program over the next two years, contact Ken at kenkimmel@comcast.net for a formal proposal and resume.

Fisher King Press publishes an eclectic mix of worthy books including Jungian Psychological Perspectives, Cutting-Edge Fiction, and a growing list of alternative titles.

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The History of My Body - New Publication

2011-10-27T10:27:00.000+02:00

Just Published,

The History of My Body

by Sharon Heath

A twist on the traditional coming-of-age story, The History of My Body is young Fleur Robins' own telling of her quixotic attempts to save her beloved grandfather amid a hectic household composed of a crusading pro-life father with a distaste for actual children, a helpless wreck of an alcoholic mother, a middle-aged nanny with all the finesse of a Mack truck, a flatulent ex-nun, and a peripatetic population of babies saved from "the devil abortionists." Is Fleur autistic or gifted? Most people find her more than a little odd, with her penchant for pinching and flapping, fondness for fanciful word play, and preoccupation with God and the void. When Fleur fails to revive a dying baby bird in her father's garden, she sets in motion a series of events that thrusts her into the center of a culture war over the reach and limits of the human imagination.

About the Author
Sharon Heath writes fiction and non-fiction exploring the interplay of science and spirit, politics and pop culture, contemplation and community. A certified Jungian Analyst in private practice and faculty member of the C.G. Jung Institute of Los Angeles, she served as Associate Editor of Psychological Perspectives and Guest Editor of the special issue The Child Within/The Child Without. She has given talks in the United States and Canada on topics ranging from the place of soul in social media to gossip, envy, secrecy, and belonging.

In addition to the paperback edition, eBook editions are available from the Apple iBookstore, Amazon Kindle, Google eBook Store, and Barnes and Noble Nook.

Tips for Accessing your Creative Spirit

2011-10-22T12:34:00.002+02:00

Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils and Rewards of Artmaking makes for a fine companion to Lawrence Staples’ The Creative Soul: Art and the Quest for Wholeness. If you are looking to tap into your own creative spirit, both of these fine publications will help.

Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils and Rewards of Artmaking
by David Bayles and Ted Orland
ISBN 978-0961454739. Trade Paperback, 122 pages

What is your art really about?
Where is it going?
What stands in the way of getting there?

These are questions that matter, questions that recur at each stage of artistic development - and they are the source for this volume of wonderfully incisive commentary.

Art and Fear explores the way art is created, and the reasons it often does not get created, and the nature of the difficulties that cause so many artists to give up along the way. This is a book about what it feels like to sit in your studio or classroom, at your wheel or keyboard, easel or camera, trying to do the work you need to do. It is about committing your future to your own hands, placing Free Will above predestination, choice above chance. It is about finding your own work.

The Creative Soul: Art and the Quest for Wholeness by Lawrence H. Staples.
ISBN 9780981034447 (ISBN 10: 0981034446) Index, Biblio, 100 pp., 2009.

Who we most deeply are is mirrored in our artistic work. Our need for mirroring simultaneously attracts us to and repels us from our creative callings and relationships. It is one of life's great dilemmas.

Artist's block and lover's block flow from the same pool. Often, we fear deeply the very thing needed to create original art, to experience intimate relationships and to live authentic lives: we are frightened by the impulse to be fully revealed to ourselves, and to others, as this most often entails exposing the unacceptable shadowy aspects of our humanity and risking rejection.

Mirrors in all their manifold guises permit us to safely see and experience ourselves in reflection and become better acquainted with the rejected, ostracized aspects of our personalities. Creative work is one of the few places where we can truly express and witness lost aspects of our authentic selves.

Within us a treasure beckons. This is what we spend our lives pursuing. What slows and distracts us is not the object we long for, but where we search. To find this precious gem, we must eventually return to our own creative spirits.

A few of the topics explored in THE CREATIVE SOUL include:

THE CREATIVE INSTINCT
OUR UNIQUE IDENTITY
SOME ELEMENTS OF CREATIVITY
SOME PREREQUISITES OF THE CREATIVE PROCESS
GIVING VOICE TO THE MANY LIVES WITHIN
DREAMS AND ACTIVE IMAGINATION AS TRIGGERS TO CREATIVITY
CREATIVITY AND INDEPENDENCE
ART AND THE QUEST FOR WHOLENESS
THERAPY AS ART
FEAR OF SELF-REVELATION BLOCKS CREATIVITY
INTIMACY AND CREATIVITY
CREATIVITY, GUILT, AND SELF-DEVELOPMENT
CREATIVITY AND LONELINESS

The Creative Soul, along with many other worthy publications can be purchased at the Fisher King Press online bookstore.

Phone orders welcomed, Credit Cards accepted. 1-800-228-9316 toll free in the US & Canada, International +1-831-238-7799

The Creative Seed

2011-10-09T06:04:00.000+02:00

The Seed of a Creative Life

by Lawrence Staples,
author of The Creative Soul: Art and the Quest and Guilt with a Twist: The Promethean Way

Active imagination is a technique developed by C.G. Jung to help amplify, interpret, and integrate the contents of our dreams. When approached by way of writing, active imagination is like writing a play. One takes, for example, a figure that has appeared in one’s dreams. Usually, these figures express a viewpoint quite the opposite of one’s normal conscious view. Sometimes it is a male or female, shadow figure. At other times, it may be a feminine, anima, or maternal figure.

One starts to converse with the figure in writing. One challenges the dream figure and lets him/her challenge the dreamer. The dreamer asks the figure why he appeared in the dream. He asks the figure what it wants from him. Then, the ego, like a playwright, puts himself as best he can into the figure’s shoes and tries to express it and defend its viewpoint. There ensues a dialogue between the writer and the opposite figure in his dream or piece of writing. With practice one can become accomplished at expressing both viewpoints, just as a playwright does. One gets better at this the more one does it.

The technique of active imagination tends to detach the qualities and traits that are first seen in a dream or in a story as belonging to external persons, and coming to see them as belonging to one’s self. Active imagination, then, helps the writer become conscious of his opposite qualities by forcing him to give voice to figures, like shadow figures, that carry qualities opposite those of his ego. These qualities personify the rejected opposites that are present in the unconscious. This technique helps recover them and make them available to the ego and consciousness without necessarily having to act them out.

Following is an impressive and rich example of the power of this technique to affect and even shape our lives. It’s an active imagination done by Mel Mathews when he was in his late thirties. He was an extremely successful salesman who was, nevertheless, unhappy with his work and life. Despite his high income, work had lost its meaning for him. He had entered Jungian analysis in order to help him out of his suffocating existence and find a new and different way. He had a powerful dream that he took to his analyst. His analyst suggested he do active imagination with one of the figures in the dream. His is a beautiful example of active imagination that led to much more than a dialogue. It became the seed of a creative life that grew and flourished into a wholly new career. Out of his active imagination came a novel, LeRoi - Book 1 of The Chronicles of a Wandering Soul series, which was then followed by several other novels, including Menopause Man and SamSara.

The power of the active imagination is seen in the fact that it unearthed in Mel some deep hidden spring of creativity that suddenly gushed forth. Apparently, he had been living a life of suspended animation that lay there until some psychic prince awoke it. He had the following dream:

A woman was sitting in a diner, in a booth smoking. “Excuse me, I wonder if you could put your cigarette out?” I asked. She ignored me. A few minutes later she lit up again. I stood up, walked around to her booth, grabbed her pack of smokes and the ashtray and walked out the front door. I dumped the ashtray and stepped on her lit smoke; then, I dropped her pack and stomped them as well. I walked back inside, slammed the empty ashtray down on the coffee counter and sat down. A petite pony-tailed brunette walked up with the iced tea pitcher to refill my glass. “Can I have some more ice please?” “Sure,” she answered, “I’m sure (Flo) the boss-lady will be out in a minute,” the brunette said, as she turned around with my ice. “What does she want?” “You’ll have to ask her yourself.”

Mel discussed the dream with his analyst who suggested a dialogue with the boss-lady.

Following is his active imagination with Flo, the name of the boss-lady. This brief dialogue is to his novel what an acorn is to an oak tree. This brief dialogue apparently contained all the genetic codes necessary to make a novel just as an acorn has the genetic codes that lead to an oak tree.

Flo: Howdy.

Mel: Hi.

Flo: Purdy hot day, huh?

Mel: I can stand the heat. It’s the stray cigarette smoke that sets me off.

Flo: So that gives you the right to run off one of my regulars.

Mel: I asked her to put it out.

Flo: Did you ask her or did you beat around the bush with some rude indirect comment?

Mel: Lady, I don’t know who you are or what’s on your mind, but I really don’t need any more crap today.

Flo: Well kid right now you’re in my diner and you’re runnin’ off my patrons.

Mel: Oh great.

Flo: I’ve dealt with your kind for years so let’s just cut to the quick.

Mel: Look, lady, I’m sorry if I offended anybody here, but I’ve got some problems. My MG is broken down across the street.

Flo: So what?

Mel: Things just aren’t falling into place today.

Flo: Would you like some chocolate milk little boy, or how about your ass wiped? In this café, the world doesn’t revolve around you.

While the creative process is different for each individual, one can sometimes discern similarities. The seed that unleashed Mel’s creative process was a dream and a few sentences associated with the dream. His process bears some resemblance to the process by which Isak Dineson created her work.

Mel Mathews' development as a person and a writer is a wonderful testimony to the power of creativity to shape our lives and connect us to our souls. His dream and the dialogue that flowed from it to create LeRoi is an incredibly rich and impressive example of active imagination, as I understand it. His experience of active imagination is one of the most powerful examples I have ever witnessed. His dialogue with Flo seemed to unearth for him a huge reservoir of suspended animation that poured forth into the world and continues to flow. Actually, "Flo" and "flow" do seem somehow related. Mel's experience is enough to encourage therapists not only to use active imagination with their clients but also with themselves."

The Creative Soul and Chronicles Book 1 LeRoi

Fisher King Press publishes of an eclectic mix of worthy books including Jungian Psychological Perspectives, Cutting Edge Fiction, and a growing list of alternative titles.

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Copyright © 2010 Fisher King Press. Permission to repost or reprint is granted, with a link to: http://www.fisherkingreview.com/2010/11/seed-of-creative-life.html

a Snappy Reading Mystery Thriller Filled with Wisdom and Wit: Sulfur Creek

2011-09-30T21:00:00.000+02:00

by Mel Mathews

Drawing from a depth of knowledge and feelings, Thad McAfee masterfully delivers first-rate storytelling in Sulfur Creek. Twelve year-old Anna Marie Cochran has lost her life on the railroad tracks at the Sulfur Creek crossing in a small Midwestern town. Much as the little stream meanders across the countryside, the lives of the mourners who have gathered from afar twist and turn before a heinous crime is uncovered.

For twenty years Sonny Mac has avoided his past. This successful corporate man has had no need or desire to return to his origins to face those old ghosts. But now he is called upon to support a childhood best friend and his grieving family. The local Sheriff, the Railroad Police, and the Coroner are quick to deem the case an unfortunate accident. But things just don’t add up to Sonny Mac, and he manages to drag his best buddy’s younger sister, Emmy Lou Cochran, into this amateur detective case that soon turns into a passionate love affair.

Unsettled by an incomplete accident report, Colonel Rupert Mason of the Ohio State Police decides to pay a visit to this small community and junior State Policewoman Rebecca Steen, the reporting officer who arrived on scene soon after the incident. At a small social gathering, Sonny Mac by chance meets Rupert Mason and expresses his unsettled sentiments about Anna Marie’s death to the Colonel, and from there on, things seem to unravel for the complacent Sheriff and the unsavory Railroad Police investigator, while sweet Emmy Lou helps to finally exorcise Sonny Mac’s old demons.

For those who enjoy a snappy reading Mystery Thriller filled with wisdom and wit, Sulfur Creek is highly recommended.

Mel Mathews' book reviews have appeared in many syndicated publications. He is the author of the Chronicles of a Wandering Soul, a series of novels that portray a man’s struggles as he goes against the grains of his upbringings and emerges as a renewed man who is guided by his own inner truth and hard-won wisdom.

Permission to reprint this article is granted.

Snakes! Everyone should have at least one. . .

2011-09-28T23:22:00.000+02:00

Snakes, a novel
by Patricia Damery

Go West Young Lady! Love – Sex – Naiveté – Family – Values – Commitment – Betrayal . . . Patricia Damery weaves a seductive tale about life’s insoluble contradictions. A Midwestern farm girl leaves the confines of her family heritage and is transformed by life’s vicissitudes. Snake stories, symbols of transformation, are cleverly intertwined in this highly entertaining novel as Angela, the heroine, undergoes numerous rights of passages, and comes to terms with life - her life – exactly where, when, and how it unfolds. Highly recommended, Snakes is deeply rooted in Mother Earth—and Soul.

—Literary Aficionado

Snakes is a poetic meditation about the intertwined cycles of life and farming . . . the memories, dreams and reflections of a nurturing mother claiming her authentic role within the natural order of children and husbands, kitchens and bedrooms, warm tidal pools and freshly ploughed fields—and gardens where snakes live amongst the flowers.

—Malcolm’s Round Table, Malcolm R. Campbell,

author of the novel Garden of Heaven: an Odyssey

So what is Snakes about? It is about the Risks we take, both major and minor, that coalesce over time to define our lives. It is about the Fear of the little things and Fear of the big things, and at the end of the day, the month, the season, and our lives, finding out that it was a shorter distance to Love than we thought. It’s about Mistakes and Regrets, and how necessary they both are to a life well and fully lived. It’s about the Earth and the Sea; the Individual and the Familial; Respect and Trust; Youth and Age. But most of all, Snakes is about finding one’s place in the Universe and how that journey is formed.

—New Mystics, Joey Madia, author of Jester-Knight

In addition to Snakes, Patricia Damery is the author of Farming Soul: A Tale of Initiation. She grew up in the rural Midwest and witnessed the demise of the family farm through the aggressive practices of agribusiness. With her husband Donald, she has farmed biodynamically for eleven years in the Napa Valley of California.

Fisher King Press publishes an eclectic mix of worthy books including Jungian Psychological Perspectives, Cutting Edge Fiction, and a growing list of alternative titles.

International shipping.
Credit Cards Accepted.
Phone Orders Welcomed. Toll free in the US & Canada: 1-800-228-9316 International +1-831-238-7799 skype: fisher_king_press

SamSara and The Guilt Cure: a Homeopathic Remedy

2011-09-18T04:52:00.002+02:00

From Pennington & Staples The Guilt Cure:

Early Wounds, Guilt and Repeating Patterns

All of us carry psychic wounds that were inflicted in childhood. In order to be safe and to be loved, we cut off and repressed thoughts, feelings and behaviors that were unacceptable to our parents. It is this “cut” that wounds us. None of us escapes these wounds because there are no parents to whom all thoughts, feelings and behaviors are acceptable. No parent gets it right. We are prone to think that the parent who neglects us is more wounding than the one who is over-solicitous and attentive. Both wound us. The wounds are different but they both hurt.These wounds become our developmental deficiencies. Our life long challenge is to recover the rejected qualities in order to become whole and live fuller lives.

Guilt lies behind these wounds. We avoid the unacceptable qualities in order to escape the painful guilt we are wired to experience when we violate parental values and wishes. And the behaviors we adopt early in life to avoid guilt, punishment and loss of love, continue throughout our lives as repeating patterns of behavior. If guilt is a necessity in life, then psychic wounds are also necessities. These necessary wounds determine the developmental path we must follow if we are to recover those cut off qualities and heal our wounds. We have to bear painful guilt if we are to become whole, just as we have to bear painful hunger if we are to lose weight.

It is the urge to develop and become whole that lies behind our repeating patterns. One pattern that most people experience is the tendency to keep choosing a partner that has the same difficult qualities as the previous one. Usually we are attracted to someone opposite, someone who carries qualities that we ourselves can’t express. The persons we are attracted to may superficially seem different, but psychologically be much the same. For example, we may always be attracted to someone who is relatively unavailable. We then repeat the childhood experience we had with one or both of our parents.

The way of dealing with the unavailability may differ from child to child. One sibling may react by clinging, by expressing its neediness, by clamoring for attention or complaining when it is insufficient. Another sibling may react just the opposite. He/she may resolve to become self-sufficient and demand little from the parent. This sibling may take care of the parent and learn that safety lies in being the good boy or girl who never creates a burden for the parent. The other demands to be taken care of and is a real burden to the parent.

Later in life, these two are attracted to each other. One needs to be taken care of. The other needs to take care of someone. As it turns out, they are both needy. But both are unconscious of it and deny it. It’s the basis for the widespread phenomenon of co-dependency. It’s a secret collusion. On the surface, one feels angry and rejected if his every need isn’t being anticipated and met. But deep inside, he feels guilty because he feels unworthy of care and attention. Meanwhile, the other feels just the opposite. Consciously, she feels guilty if she isn’t anticipating and taking care of every need of the loved one. And underneath she may be filled with anger and resentment when her caretaking is not deemed satisfactory or is not appreciated. Her sense of self worth depends on proper acknowledgement of her efforts.

The displeasure and dissatisfaction that arise actually give us a hint about how to break this pattern. After many painful experiences, we eventually discover that healing takes place when we can treat the partner as we have been treated. The healing element is almost always homeopathic. Rather than trying to get the partner to behave differently, we have to take on some of the very traits we thought we wanted them to change. We have to develop traits that we have spent a lifetime trying to avoid or deny. The always available person becomes less available. The always unavailable person become more attentive.

In order to behave homeopathically, we have to do inner work in the shadow where our opposite qualities have been stored. We have to become very conscious of our own feelings. For example, a caretaker cannot become unavailable without experiencing guilt and anxiety. If we become conscious of our guilt and anxiety as it arrives, we can name it and bear it. If we resolve to bear those feelings, they will not last long. The same thing happens in dieting. If we are not watching our feelingscarefully, the hunger comes and we grab a cookie without reflection. If we feel and name the hunger just as it comes and resolve to bear it, the hunger will not last long.

In Mel Mathews’ novel SamSara, we see that the hero, Malcolm Clay, is caught in a repeating pattern. He is always strongly attracted to women who are unavailable. He meets this beautiful woman named Kelli. Kelli is focused on her own work projects and is not readily available to others. Malcolm falls for her. Her behavior is random and intermittent. He never can reliably count on her showing up for a date or returning a call. Sometimes she will; sometimes she won’t. Her behavior drives Malcolm crazy as he chases her around the world. Eventually, he ends up in Ireland where she lives and he is repeatedly let down by this incredibly attractive woman.

After much hurt and pain, Malcolm is finally able to let go. He does it with a homeopathic treatment. He gives her a dose of her own medicine. She invites him to meet for a drink at one of the local hangouts. When he sees her coming this time, he slips out the back door, gets on a train and heads for the airport. She arrives at the café and soon begins to call Malcolm trying to find out where he is. His phone rings just as the train approaches the air terminal, and he notices a young boy crying in his mother’s arms. “Hey kid, you’ve got a call,” he says, handing the whining boy the phone before stepping off the train.

It is likely that Malcolm had to bear much anxiety and guilt in order to stand Kelli up. Malcolm values reliability, dependability and keeping his word. It makes him angry when others don’t behave the same way. But, in this moment, he had to save himself by finding in his unconscious a quality that had been put there long ago in order to safely traverse childhood. He had to become unavailable. Malcolm also had to suffer through much painful yearning, just as an alcoholic does when he gives up something that once made him feel good but later made him feel bad. And like an alcoholic who gives up alcohol, he has to spot the yearning the moment it begins, acknowledge it, name it and suffer it momentarily, perhaps several times until the yearning passes.

Deep Blues and Unitary Reality

2011-08-02T10:47:00.010+02:00

Deep Blues explores the archetypal journey of the human psyche through an examination of the blues as a musical genre. The genesis, history, and thematic patterns of the blues are examined from an archetypal perspective and various analytic theories – especially the interaction between Erich Neumann’s concept of unitary reality and the blues experience. Mythological and shamanistic parallels are used to provide a deeper understanding of the role of the bluesman, the blues performance, and the innate healing potential of the music. Universal aspects of human experience and transcendence are revealed through the creative medium of the blues. The atmosphere of Deep Blues is enhanced by the black and white photographs of Tom Smith which capture striking blues performances in the Maxwell Street section of Chicago. Jungian analysts, therapists and psychoanalytic practitioners with an interest in the interaction between creative expression and human experience should find Deep Blues a worthy contribution. Deep Blues also appeals to ethnomusicologists and enthusiasts of all forms of music.

In his ever-fascinating book, Dr. Mark Winborn goes where few authors on the blues have ever gone: into the profoundly psychological implications of the genre. A Jungian by training, Winborn argues convincingly how the blues communicates for reasons that extend to the symbolic language of the unconscious. His results are sure to inspire future research in not just the blues but in other areas of traditional culture and the creative act. —Dr. William L. Ellis, Saint Michael’s College, Colchester, Vermont, Ethnomusicologist - Musician - Music Critic

Just like a fine bluesman, Winborn ‘riffs’ on the various psychological aspects of his topic: the genesis of the sound, the unitary reality created in playing and listening to the blues, its archetypal manifestations and healing potential, and the influence of the personality of performer and performance. As he states, ‘the blues belongs among the great arts because of its extraordinary capacity to embrace, embody, and transcend the opposites, especially as they become manifest in the experience of tragedy and suffering.’ Using original lyrics throughout, Winborn invites us to reimagine the power of the blues in its ability to deepen our own soulfulness. —August J. Cwik, Psy.D., Jungian Analyst & Musician

Mark Winborn, PhD, NCPsyA is a Jungian Psychoanalyst and Clinical Psychologist. He is a training and supervising analyst of the Inter-Regional Society of Jungian Analysts. Dr. Winborn maintains a private practice in Memphis, Tennessee where he is also currently the Training Coordinator for the Memphis Jungian Seminar.

The Chronicles of a Wandering Soul: Book 1

2011-04-01T12:16:00.003+02:00

il piccolo editions presents

The Chronicles of a Wandering Soul
Book 1 - LeRoi
by Mel Mathews
ISBN 9781926715339, 204 pp, 2010

“An introspective allegory about the search for prosperity of the soul . . .”

—Midwest Book Review

“Mel Mathews’ place in the ranks of fine contemporary writers is assured.”
In The Chronicles of a Wandering Soul series, the wandering, questing central figure of Malcolm Clay has become a new literary icon. With thoughtful ruminations, keen humor, informative explorations of themes from religion to traits of visited countries, and so many clever double entendres, Mel Mathews’ place in the ranks of fine contemporary writers is assured.

—Grady Harp, goodreads, Amazon.com Top10 Reviewer

“Vive LeRoi: A powerful kick at the American way of life.”
LeRoi is ostensibly a novel, and not overtly psychological, but it lays bare the psychic plight of a middle-aged man looking for meaning. It is a powerful kick at the American way of life—ambition, success, money and power—but it is redemptive in the narrator’s search for internal Eros and an outer relationship he can trust himself to believe in.

—Daryl Sharp, author and publisher, Inner City Books

In Book One of The Chronicles of a Wandering Soul, Malcolm Clay, a rather ornery but ‘successful-in-life’ character, finds himself stranded in the middle of nowhere, his fancy MG allowing him to limp into a gas station with a diner-cum-motel on the other side of the road. Subtly layered in symbol and metaphor, one soon realizes that the simplicity of this novel is only skin deep. The old mechanic, a study in laissez-faire and cool disdain, tries the patience of our hero. As a matter of fact, all members of the cast including the Queen who rules the diner, the pretty waitress and the lanky fast-order cook are highly complicated human beings. The enigmatic and moody old Chevy half-ton pick-up truck Malcolm borrows is unreliable in the conventional sense, but does grant him the freedom to escape the confines of the motel and the frustration of his broken down MG. ‘Ol’ Reliable’ guides him over a cattle guard, a mysterious unseen gateway into sanctuary, the oasis of a river that cuts through this otherwise barren wasteland where he can cast a fly into adventure—and misadventure—yet beyond that, healing waters for the soul. Could this perhaps be a modern day model of a questing Perceval and the Grail Legend’s Fisherking?

READ THE FIRST CHAPTER

Give me that old time religion, it’s good enough for me . . . or is it?

2009-07-09T05:57:00.014+02:00

by Mel Mathews

Perhaps that 'Old Time' religion has failed us, or at least the deeper meaning of symbols and metaphors have been lost to misinterpreted literalism and that 'old king,' religious fundamentalism. Blindly following old time beliefs and attitudes in their many forms and guises is following our forefathers right over the cliff and into a vast sea of disillusionment and meaninglessness. Will we repeat this by following along with a host of fundamentalist ideals, the endless pursuit of materialism at the expense of our ecology, and other forms of meaningless neurotic suffering, or we will be moved to willingly and consciously suffer the unknown, until these old time religious symbols become alive within and take on authentic meaning as opposed to being a useless, lifeless, hand-me-down relic?

Instead of completely running away from, or blindly following, perhaps we could begin to question these old religions and fundamentalisms, begin to confront and dialogue with these calcified God-Images, and find that lost nugget of gold - the transcendent. After all, like a reoccurring nightmare, these haunting literalized religious concepts and other 'old king' values will not go away until their embedded images are exposed and truly given their due.

Edward F. Edinger’s Transformation of the God-Image and Lawrence W. Jaffe’s Celebrating Soul are two fine Inner City Book publications that address such concerns.

Transformation of the God-Image
by Edward F. Edinger
with a foreword by Lawrence W. Jaffe

"Whoever knows God has an effect on him."
--C.G. Jung, Answer to Job.

From Lawrence W. Jaffe’s Foreword of Transformation of the God-Image:

Despite the Biblical imagery, this book is not concerned with traditional religion. Its subject, rather, is psychology, the scientific study of the soul. References are to Job, God and Christ because our deepest feelings still resonate to that imagery. Put another way, the reason for the Biblical references is because "Jungian psychology has the task of introducing to the world a new world view" (Edinger, Aion). The roots of this new world view lie in the Judeo-Christian myth.

If, as Edinger predicts, Jung's works are one day read as Scripture once was--for sustenance of our souls, for moving words that touch us to the heart, for reassurance, guidance and orientation--Answer to Job will surely occupy a unique place in the Jungian canon. The special status of Answer to Job as the most complete statement of Jung's essential message has long been acknowledged by Jungians, who have discussed it in countless seminars and conferences since its publication in 1952.

What has sparked all this interest is that the central theme of Answer to Job--the transformation of God through human consciousness--is the central theme, too, of Jungian psychology. Not long before his death Jung himself affirmed its importance, remarking that he would like to rewrite all of his books except Answer to Job, which he would leave just as it stands.

Answer to Job contains the kernel, the essence, of the Jungian myth, and Edinger's study of it, at once erudite and down-to-earth, thoughtful and heartfelt, evokes that essence with unequaled clarity and power.

Celebrating Soul by Lawrence W. Jaffe

"Man has a soul and there is a treasure buried in the field."
--C.G. Jung

People are beginning to bump up against the limits of materialism and rationalism, realizing that these fail to offer something essential, a purpose in life. Although a few turn back to institutional religion for orientation, many find that road barred to them by their reason and their skepticism. Whatever form the new religion takes it must leave a large place for reason. The new religion will therefore be the product of a marriage between reason and faith, science and religion.

We cannot do without meaning in our lives. Meaning cannot be established objectively; it arises only through a relationship with the inner, subjective world. But it is precisely that realm that has been discredited in our day by the misapplication of the scientific spirit. In compensation, this book describes and gives examples of the inner life in order to help the reader sense the reality of the soul. It explores the spiritual significance of Jungian psychology--its message of personal and cultural renewal for a civilization that has lost its sense of purpose.

In Celebrating Soul, Lawrence Jaffe helps to expose what has been lost in literal translations and brings us into deeper relationship with the symbolic and metaphoric value of concerns such as:

* The New Religion
* The Jungian Myth
* Jungian Spirituality
* What Is Our Purpose in Life?
* The Hymn of the Pearl
* Breaking the Chain of Suffering
* The Golden Rule and the Iron Rule
* The Wounded Inner Child in the Bible
* The Lesson of Job
* The Meaning of Suffering
* Holding the Opposites As Service to God
* Wrestling with the Angel
* The Redemptive Value of Consciousness
* A New Form of Worship
* The Healing of Childhood Wounds
* Success Versus Consciousness
* Jung on the Life of Christ
* Studying Torah and Studying Jung
* Redemption Through Shadow Work
* A Psychological View of the First Commandment
* Testimony to the Holocaust
* Death and Resurrection
* Being "Born Again"
* Individuation and the Bible
* Jung and the Bible on Love
* New Life in Late Life
* A Psychological Gloss on a Benediction
* The Problem of Prayer
* Christ As a Model for Individuation
* Reason and Statistics
* Self-Knowledge Gives Meaning to Life
* The Answer Lies Within
* Psychotherapy As Sabbath

Mel Mathews' book reviews have appeared in many syndicated publications. He is the author of the Malcolm Clay Trilogy, a series of novels that portray a man’s struggles as he goes against the grains of his upbringings and emerges as a renewed man who is guided by his own inner truth and hard-won wisdom. Learn more about this reviewer and his publications at: www.melmathews.com or www.malcolmclay.com

Permission to reprint this article is granted.

Along with many other fine publications
Transformation of the God Image and Celebrating Soul
can be ordered by calling Fisher King Press at
1-800-228-9316 in the US, or +1-831-238-7799 from abroad.
Also available at www.fisherkingpress.com

An Authentic 21st Century Man

2009-06-30T04:08:00.022+02:00

a review by Mel Mathews
of Resurrecting the Unicorn:
Masculinity in the 21st Century

Not long ago while listening to a NPR broadcast concerning Masculinity in the 21st Century, I was caught up by an interview of a woman journalist who had written about 'what it means to be a man in the 21st century.' The concept of a woman reporting on and defining, or attempting to define, masculinity was a bit off-putting. We tread on thin ice when a woman, or women define manhood and/or masculinity, just as we do when a man, or men attempt to define women and femininity. Sure, we all carry these contra-sexual aspects within, but that doesn’t make Man an authority on femininity, nor Woman an authority on masculinity, anymore than it makes a lefty an authority on a righty. The interview soon shifted away from a woman’s definition of masculinity to pop-cultural definitions of manhood. Perhaps I was still ruffled by this lefty-righty thing, but I also considered it quite shallow to have masculinity or femininity defined by fleeting fashions of pop-culture, for as naturally as DNA defines genetics, archetypal patterns define the psychological and spiritual makeup of masculinity and femininity—not passing trends.

Now, speaking as a man about masculinity, I can say that many 21st century men have been raised by women—without a masculine role model—and what they've learned about being a man has been defined by the media, the women’s movement, and many other distorted social norms. Often, such men discover that they are no longer able or willing to carry these externally imposed values and instead seek alternative definitions of masculinity and lifestyles. Some would call these periods of change a crisis; others would consider this a step in the direction of mental health. Regardless of how we label this time of soul-searching, it ultimately calls for a willingness to suffer the unknown. The rewards for such courage often prove quite beneficial. For those willing to take on the task of becoming an 'authentic' man, one can expect to gain a more defined sense of self who is moved by his own internal values, and in turn experience a more meaningful and fulfilling life.

However, all the compensatory posturing, chest-pounding or drum-beating in the world won't revive this great masculine spirit. This can only be accomplished by developing a deeper relationship to soul, to the archetypal patterns or energies that comprise the core aspects of our beings. The mental landscape of metaphors—dreams, stories, myths, fairy tales—deal with the eternal truths of human nature and are the language of soul. In the recently published book Resurrecting the Unicorn: Masculinity in the 21st Century, Bud Harris masterfully guides readers deep into the realm of metaphors where we can examine the evolution and development of human consciousness and reclaim discarded, yet much needed, integral aspects of our masculine natures.

"True masculinity—not the macho type—is needed for men to be strong enough to meet the feminine in themselves. For this they must find their own masculine face—not a face defined by women," suggests Bud Harris in Resurrecting the Unicorn. Harris then delves into the fairy tale, "Fyrtoiet," better known as "The Tinder Box" by Hans Christian Andersen, where an "Elemental Blueprint for Developing Masculinity" is extracted from the symbolic metaphors of this wise old tale.

Perhaps it’s time to pick up where Robert Bly's Iron John and Sam Keen's Fire in the Belly left off in the last part of the 20th century. If you're ready to explore and claim an 'authentic' masculinity from a place that calls for a great deal of courage, where truth, values, and integrity are defined from within, not by antiquated beliefs or pop-culture, then Bud Harris' Resurrecting the Unicorn is certainly worthy of your time and attention. Makes for a great gift to a husband, father, bother, and particularly for women who are raising boys.

Resurrecting the Unicorn: Masculinity in the 21st Century, ISBN 978-0-9810344-0-9 is available from the publisher, Fisher King Press at www.fisherkingpress.com or by calling 1-831-238-7799. This timely publication is also available from your local bookstore and from a host of online booksellers.

Mel Mathews' book reviews have appeared in many syndicated publications. He is the author of the Malcolm Clay Trilogy, a series of novels that portray a man’s struggles as he goes against the grains of his upbringings and emerges as a renewed man who is guided by his own inner truth and hard-won wisdom. Learn more about this reviewer and his publications at: www.melmathews.com or www.malcolmclay.com

Permission to reprint this article is granted.

Oedipus Denied . . . not so quickly!

2008-09-02T03:31:00.010+02:00

by Mel Mathews

Whether we know it, or not, whether we care to or are able to admit it, every human being is influenced by psychological ‘complexes’. In The Complex: Path of Transformation from Archetype to Ego, Erel Shalit explains the difference between an ‘autonomous complex’ and an integrated complex. Shalit explains, “The fundamental task of the complex is to serve as a vehicle and vessel of transformation…” In other words, psychological complexes are necessary aspects of our being and when we are able to recognize and develop a dialogue or an ongoing conscious relationship with these complexes, these aspects of our humanity can be expressed and honored in a healthy and often creative manner.

A complex becomes troublesome when it is denied and splits off from our greater whole, as is the case with the Oedipus myth. In studying and deciphering the symbolic meaning of the Oedipus myth, Erel Shalit explains how a complex that has the potential to bring us into living a fuller, more conscious existence, is often denied and splits off into an ‘autonomous’ complex. Denying a complex, an aspect of who we are, does not cause this entity to go away. Instead, the denied castaway becomes ‘autonomous’ energy and unconsciously continues to live a life of its own, often wreaking havoc that is acted out in a host of neurotic symptoms.

In recognizing and welcoming home these prodigal complexes, vital pieces of our beings, we are able to reclaim lost aspects of our souls, and in turn unblock the stymied flow of psychological and creative energy that often gets dammed up and diverted into neurotic symptoms and suffering.

This publication addresses far more than just the Oedipal Complex. Dr. Shalit also delves into the Father Complex and the Mother Complex in both negative and positive forms. Client’s dreams and case studies are also discussed to bring theory into more concrete and practical terms.

For those interested in psychology, myth, religion, and philosophy, but even more so to those who might be suffering from a host of neurotic symptoms, including addictions or obsessive compulsive tendencies, I highly recommend The Complex: Path of Transformation from Archetype to Ego (ISBN 978-0919123991) as well as Erel Shalit’s most recently published book Enemy, Cripple & Beggar: Shadows in the Hero’s Path (ISBN 978-0977607679).

Mel Mathews' book reviews have been published in USA Today and many other notable publications. He is the author of several novels, including the Malcolm Clay Trilogy. His books are available directly from his website at: www.melmathews.com or www.malcolmclay.com

Amazon.com Widgets

Life as an Elephant, aka...

2008-08-27T05:05:00.009+02:00

by Mel Mathews

This wonderfully warm, humorous, entertaining and beautifully written book gives an overview of Jungian Psychology. That’s right, warm, humorous, entertaining, beautifully written, and a psychology book. Jungian Psychology Unplugged: My Life as an Elephant is comprised of six chapters. Chapter one addresses Jung’s Basic model of Psychological Types. Chapter two deals with ‘Getting to know Yourself’ and explains the basics of archetypes and complexes, persona, shadow… Chapter three, ‘The Unknown Other’ is about projection and identification, including the challenges involved with intimacy and relationships. Chapter four deals with the ‘Anatomy of a Midlife Crisis’ which is most often fueled by the need to develop a relationship with one’s self, or with the unexpressed aspects of our personalities that have not been honored and given a voice earlier in life. In chapter five Daryl Sharp writes about 'The Analytical Experience,' including his own, which I found most refreshing. All to often, one will pick up a psychology or self-help book in hopes of finding a recipe to improve one’s life. That’s not what happens in Jungian Psychology Unplugged: My life as an Elephant. Instead, in vulnerable fashion, Daryl Sharp shares some of his more personal moments during the period when he was seeking council. The author well knows that another person’s recipe is worthless when it comes to finding one’s self and living an authentic life, and he doesn’t pretend to be an authority and try to prove otherwise. Chapter six is about 'Psychological Development,' the process of becoming more conscious by developing a relationship to one’s soul. Sharp addresses the need to be true to our vocations, our true callings in life, and venerates those who have the courage to do just this—listening and being true to one’s inner voice. I highly recommend this book to anyone interested in living an authentic life, not just those who have an interest in Jung or psychology.

Daryl Sharp is the author of 17 books. He is also the General Editor of Inner City Books: Studies in Jungian Psychology by Jungian Analyst. The entire list of Inner City Books are available for purchase at www.fisherkingpress.com

Mel Mathews' book reviews have been published in USA Today, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, Powell's Books, Chapters.indigo.ca and in many other venues. He is also the author of several novels, including the Malcolm Clay Trilogy (Fisher King Press). His books are available from your local bookstore, a host of on-line booksellers, or you can order them directly from his website www.melmathews.com or www.malcolmclay.com

Tree of Life: Opposites Reflecting the Center of Soul

2008-08-17T14:27:00.007+02:00

I've been spending an awful lot of time editing other people's manuscripts and promoting their publications at the expense of having my own work fall by the wayside. It's not that the other work isn't valid or valued; it's just that once again, I'm lopsided, a little bit like this painting, which in reality isn't lopsided at all. It just looks a bit out of kilter because of the way it was scanned, but if you were to view the 'real thing' you'd find this mandala far more balanced.

Since I haven't been tending to my own work as of late, it felt right to pay attention to this ten year-old painting, to sit and meditate on these most necessary opposing forces. The first thing that came to me . . . the thought was that my parents have just celebrated their 49th wedding anniversary. At 47 years of age, I suppose that makes me a legitimate child. Isn't that really a funny concept, being legitimate, or not. How can one be legitimized by religious or social standards? Hell, that’s a crock of crap! One is legitimized by the fact, or better yet, in the mystery at that very moment when we were conceived, the moment when two opposing forces were mysteriously unified. To contemplate how I am comprised of what was once two, the sperm and the egg—that simply blows me away. Sure, there are millions of us walking the face of this earth, but each one of us is in fact a unique miracle, no matter how modern day science might like to slice and dice, and categorize us otherwise.

Anyway, back to Mom and Dad and their 49th wedding anniversary and to yet another miraculous fact that they are still together after all of these years. Just to have gone through all of the ups and downs together for nearly five decades. I mean, come on, love plus intimacy doesn't equal bliss, and seldom is it as pretty as the happily-ever-after picture that has been painted by a world longing for inner reconciliation within our very own souls.

Intimacy, I get a kick out of people who like to refer to 'sex' as being 'intimate' or 'making love'. Anyone can have sex, or be sexually intimate, or whatever else you might want to doll it up as, but how many long-time 'lovers' can pass gas in the presence of the other or sit on the shitter and have a conversation? That's far more intimate than having sex, in my humble opinion anyway. I’m not suggesting that people need to relate this way, but how many people are free to be this vulnerable, that is without experiencing a deep-seated since of guilt or shame? And what about all of those 'I love yous' that are so often expressed out of habit, duty, or just to keep peace in the home. Anyone can speak such falsities, when in reality they are feeling or thinking something quite the contrary. What about the good old fashion 'F#$% off fat ass' or 'I'd rather shoot myself in the foot than to have to eat another meal with you staring at me from across the table.'

4 days or 49 years of togetherness, neither seems all so easy in my little world. Perhaps I'm just a freak who has never experienced 'true love'? Perhaps I'm just a disillusioned, bitter, narcissistically wounded, selfish middle-age man who has missed out on the loving wedded bliss that so many others have shared? Perhaps; perhaps not? Consciously, or unconsciously, a person who is so-called glued together or socially adjusted most likely entertains a vast range of feelings and fantasies that include lust, jealousy, rage, disgust, hate, discontent, betrayal, and the desire to screw his best buddy's wife if the opportunity ever comes a knocking. One may not have to act on such desires and fantasies, but entertaining such thoughts and feelings may well be part of the compound that binds people in marriage for such long periods. Sure, love and a commitment to one's values and family, the need for home and companionship, not to mention the many psychological complexes that run us from behind the scenes also comprise this binding compound, but dancing with one's shadow certainly must play a great role in long-lived marriages or relationships.

Marriage and legitimacy have always intrigued me. Being legally married versus being married within, just as being legally legitimized versus claiming nature's law and legitimizing one's self are far different things. I know a woman whose father wouldn't claim her until she was eight or nine years old. Although, I think the man's obstinacy had more to do with the mother than it did with claiming his daughter. The couple was divorcing, they had split up and ended up in bed for a one last ‘go’ at things and the woman 'miraculously' got knocked up. I'm not assigning blame to either, but the man wanted a divorce and the woman didn't, and here she ends up pregnant on their very last tumble. No doubt the man felt trapped and perhaps rightly so. The mother spent several years in court, pursuing her ex to legitimize their daughter. Hell, you didn't need a court or 'the law' to legitimize this young girl. It was plain as day that she was his daughter, a spitting image of the fellow, I'm telling you. But beyond that, the very moment she was conceived, nature deemed her legitimate. I dare say the mother was legitimizing the marriage that they once shared, or perhaps the mother was trying to legitimize her very own existence, far more than she was her daughter's.

Anyway, I'm a rambling on and really don't know what I'm talking about. I’m just trying to occupy myself and stay out of my lady friend’s path. She’s really been on a pisser for the past few days, and when she reads this, I’ll probably catch all the hellish furry she’s got bottled up inside. She’s trying to be really nice, trying to pretend that the sun’s shining and life is grand, when in fact, darkness hangs all around her. Funny thing is, the more you pretend it’s sunny out, the darker the day becomes. Normally, I’d hop in my truck and drive and drive and drive. But my truck’s not at my disposal, so I’ll just weather the storm. Perhaps that’s part of what has kept my parents married all of these years, the capacity to weather storms. Some people just drive and drive and drive; some people weather storms. Then again, perhaps it’s a combination of driving and weathering storms. Who really knows?

I recall one visit to my family home a few years back, to the very house I was brought home to after being born. Dad had been retired for nearly ten years and mom was, and still is, working four, twelve-hour shifts weekly. Dad’s always been the kicked back one, solid as a rock and mom’s always been the one running around in circles. Anyway, I woke up there one morning to find my parents sitting just outside on the front porch, one on each side of the door. I walked out between them and before I could say good morning, mom pipes in: “I just don’t know what I’d do if I retired. I mean, what would I have to do. . .” Dad sips his coffee, looks at me with a smirk and says, “It’s not about what you have to do; it’s about doing what you want to do.” I just looked at them both and thought, good god almighty, that’s me, the both of them: Solid-as-a-Rock and Running-around-like-a-Headless-Chicken, and though I no longer live in this home, I cross this threshold countless times a day. And I always will; it’s part of the mystery of who I am—two opposing energies.

Whatever it is that unified my parents and held them together for all these years . . . in spite of my cynicism and all the other quirky things that split me apart and bring me back together again, I am most grateful to these two dynamically opposing forces and the mystery of their existence and insoluble everlasting love.

Now, I better go rub my lady’s back. There’s no way in all of creation that I can rescue her from her dark cloud—that she’ll have to deal with on her own. Sure, she’s gonna blame me for her discontent, just like I blamed her for burning my tongue on a cup of boiling hot tea the other evening. If you can’t crap on the one you love, who can you crap on? Before it’s all done, there will probably be a f#%@ you and a, no f#%@ you, you selfish… truth be told, there may well be a lot more of those ahead of us, along with all those I love yous. But isn’t that how it really is in life, intimacy not always being so pretty.

Mel Mathews' book reviews have been published in USA Today, Amazon.com, Barnes & Noble, Powell's Books. He is also the author of several novels, including the Malcolm Clay Trilogy (Fisher King Press). His books are available from your local bookstore, a host of on-line booksellers, or you can order them directly from his website www.melmathews.com or www.malcolmclay.com

Abandoning the Cacophony - not on your life!

2008-07-03T19:53:00.003+02:00

Often, while painting, or preparing to paint, much like writing, or preparing to write . . . well, I just said something that I don't believe in. I don't believe we prepare to paint or write; it simply must be done. One must pick up a paintbrush or a pen and begin, without allowing the 'thinking' brain to interfere with accusations or judgment, not allowing anything to crush one's creative spirit. Thinking can come later, in an editing phase, but the act of true creativity must be expressed without the imposition of an oppressed mind. Without fearing that what comes from within is good or bad, right or wrong. Like a newborn child, it must simply be allowed to a flow and authentically become whatever it may be.

These images were not painted with 'thinking' on my mind. I just picked up the paintbrush and began. This was painted in August of 2000 while spending time in Big Sur. I painted another favorite of mine just after completing this particular piece. This was the warm up you might say, dipping into paints (and the unconscious) and playing, not unlike an orchestra that is just assembling, removing their instruments from the case, testing, tuning, rehearsing . . . preparing for the real thing.

My approach to writing comes in much the same way. Most often when I begin to write, I'll take a dream and begin to explore the images, the people, the era, the setting . . . this is a way to expose all of the images, explore them and allow them to be or become what they are meant to be. It is usually in this stage of chaos that a story or a painting will begin to take form, or an image will begin to be transformed. I may spin off of a dream image that I was writing about, it may spark a memory and lead me into a completely different realm and ten or fifteen pages later, I'll look up and ask, Whoa, where did all that come from? It's like visiting a different country, or a different world, but without ever even leaving your chair, or your home, or the cafe you might be sitting in while you're away on 'vacation.' It is a most gratifying encounter, an experience that a dear friend of mine refers to as 'being kissed by an angel.' Being allowed to participate in such an act is what I call experiencing grace.

OK, the following image is what came after painting the jumble of images that you find above at the beginning of this blog. To most they are nothing special. Certainly, a skilled painter . . . alright, most children and even amateurs could paint a far prettier bed of blooming flowers. Yet, this is my bed of flowers, my flower bed where new life has taken form and now blossoms, and beyond words, this painting has deep meaning for me. It represents a time when I experienced a shift in consciousness, when my world or my image of life and the world changed. During periods such as this, one revels in the reality that things, or my blighted view of what once was, will never again be the same -- without a doubt, the Kiss of an Angel.'

Mel Mathews, is the author of several novels, including the Malcolm Clay Trilogy: LeRoi ISBN 0977607607, Menopause Man ISBN 0977607615, & SamSara ISBN 0977607623 (Fisher King Press). His books are available from your local bookstore, a host of on-line booksellers, or you can order them directly from his website at: www.melmathews.com or www.malcolmclay.com

Facing the Underworld Demons

2008-06-19T03:46:00.006+02:00

This was painted in the fall of 2005. Being the healthy hypochondriac that I am, I've supposedly been dying from a host of fabricated maladies over my life span. For several years now, I often have dreams about illness or 'dis-ease.' Usually, the case being that I am 'ill-at-ease' with myself - as in not being congruent with my soul.

When these spooky dreams come, most often, I'm compromising in some fashion, living an unauthentic life of duty and pleasing others as opposed to being true to my soul's calling. My unconscious has an uncanny way of drawing my attention to my dis-ease, or to the things that are 'eating at me' from behind the scenes. Soul knows that if it really wants my attention, an image filled dream will come and then at the end of the dream, it will have something to do with illness, possibly cancer, or someone I've know from the past who has died of some dreaded illness. The unconscious does this to spoke me, to startle me awake so that I will pay tribute to these haunting apparitions. This is souls way of demanding my undivided attention.

This particular painting was done after such a dream. I've learned that to avoid such dreams and images is only an invitation for greater psychological disturbance - more unsettling dreams. So, I will often meditate on a dream, often record the dream in journal, and occasionally something clicks and along comes a shift of awareness and I move deeper into relationship with my self, and my truth, whatever it may be during a particular day or period in my life. Other times, journaling isn't enough, and the images must be approached in another fashion - without words or intellect. Seldom does the soul move from a linear pragmatical position, but instead answers and communion can only come by stepping into the non-linear imaginal real, where the attempt to literally translate is set aside and one's imagination is free to roam in areas that otherwise might be deemed as silly, stupid, childlike or childish, immature, bazaar, irresponsible, and at times even bordering on insane. This is where painting comes in for me. For others it can be honored in a host of different mediums.

Instead of telling you about the dream that prompted this painting, I'm going to let the images speak for themselves, or better yet, I'll remain silent and instead, let your imagination take over. I will say this, though: Over the years, most of what has haunted me in dreams often, after time passes, after I have engaged these 'spooks' in some sort of meditation and creative artistic expression, these so called 'dis-eases' and 'ill-at-ease' aspects of my dreamworld (my psyche/soul) have transformed into some of my closest and healthiest friends and have been the fueling catalyst behind my writing, the Malcolm Clay Trilogy included.

Writer's Block: Fact or Fiction?

2008-06-08T15:48:00.004+02:00

by Mel Mathews

Actually, I didn’t have writer's block when I painted all of these funny little symbols. Can't really say that I ever have had writer's block. Now, that's not to say that all that I write has commercial value—quite the contrary. Yet, everything that I write has soul value and is in service to my evolving existence and authenticity. It may well be chaotic, insane, profane, and lack an ounce of structure or reason; however, it is still in service to my soul and creative process, much like these silly paintings that are posted on my blog, as they too share the same intrinsic value.

When these particular primitive images were painted, I was in the midst of writing my first novel LeRoi and wanted to believe that I had writer's block, because I was lacking clarity about the direction in which the book was going. In reality, I was standing in my own way, believing that I could logically wrap my mind around the unconscious and squeeze it like an orange until my thirst was sated. That's one of the biggest lies I've told myself over the years, that I'm the one running the show and the unconscious is on a leash.

Occasionally words don't come, but that usually means that I'm written out, all that wanted or needed expression has been expunged. When a vessel has been emptied, it is only normal that it should sit in an empty silence and organically complete this natural cyclical process of birth, life, death, and renewal, or as some might say, 'being born again.' This can be a difficult task when it is called for, to sit and wait in silence, in reverence of something far greater than me. I was brought up in a society and family whose values are rooted in hard work and forthrightness. I was taught to work hard, be honest and put forth my best efforts, and sooner or later I would be rewarded. And this very attitude often pays off when one is living in the conventional world and places value in the acquiring of material possession and the illusion of security that accompany such goods.

I understand and support humanity's call to acquire material goods in order to meet the needs of our physical existence and wellbeing. However, when it comes to the creative process . . . well, no matter how well-off a person is materially, if one is not pregnant, how can one will one's self to give birth? Birth happens to us, we are birthed; our creative impulses are given form from something far greater than our limited capacity—and most often futile attempts—to manipulate the cosmos. Sure, man and woman must come together and unite in order for a child to be conceived. Still, it is far more than just physical intercourse that creates us, that breathes the spirit of life into our bodies. We, as is the case with all living creatures, are miracles who for all practical, logical, reasons, should not even exist. Artistic expression, no matter the form, must also have this miraculous spirit breathed into it as expression takes form, and it can't be willed into existence any more than one can will their heart to take its next beat.

When I am at a loss for words to write, or lacking clarity, I will often turn a brown paper bag inside out, or take some other scrap of paper or cardboard that is lying around and begin to paint. I may meditate on my feelings of emptiness, or of feeling artistically impotent, perhaps a feeling of sadness, confusion—I am usually writing when I have access to my joy, sense of humor, anger and/or rage—but during these times of sadness, emptiness, impotence... I will meditate on the feelings and paint. And I don’t practice this ritual so that I can dispose of these negative feelings—quite the contrary. I sit with my self and meditate and paint my feelings in order to honor these very aspects of my humanity, pieces of me that want and need to be honored with something other than words. Then most often, after time passes, and when I'm able to step aside and not stand in the way by trying to force something—or better yet, stand aside and not BLOCK the creative process—this renewed energy can flow forth, refilling the empty vessel and breathing spirit into new forms.

Alchemy's Postmortem King & Queen

2008-04-27T19:30:00.007+02:00

The dream that inspired this painting had something to do with batman making love to batwoman, or perhaps cat woman. In the upper left hand corner, you will notice a small image, that of a lion or lioness worshiping the rising sun, aurora consurgens, the dawning of a new day.

In the center of this painting, you find a five pointed grave, or crypt, where the king lays on top of the queen. It has the tones of death, mortificato, yet the king and queen lie in union, physically connected by the act of intercourse, coniunctio. My feeling at the time of this painting was that of incubation, the tomb being cocoon-like.

At the bottom left corner, you will find two pair of eyes looking on, observing. Whom these eyes belong to, I couldn't tell you. Perhaps these are the eyes of higher consciousness, the Great Father and Mother observing, and possibly even standing guard over the conception and incubation of a new age, a higher consciousness that has yet to be born.

On the bottom right side, you find the moon, thus, revealing lunar qualities to balance out the solar from above. And all of these images are contained within a molten fluidic sea of fire—no doubt a temple of purification.

Mel Mathews, is the author of several novels, including the Malcolm Clay Trilogy (Fisher King Press). His books are available from your local bookstore, a host of on-line booksellers, or you can order them directly from his website at: www.melmathews.com or www.malcolmclay.com

© 2008 Mel Mathews

Yin Yang - Hidden Treasures

2008-04-22T13:50:00.006+02:00

I don't recall the dream that instigated this particular painting. It was painted in the fall of 2005, when I spent a few months in Oklahoma, 15 or 20 miles northeast of Tulsa. It was something how I stumbled into the place. My uncle, my father's oldest brother had passed away and I returned from Europe to be near my father. Just a few days after my uncle's funeral, my good friend Turner called to say he was moving to Oklahoma and asked for my help. My father was born in Oklahoma, as was my uncle. They were from a family of 12 children and had come to California in the dust bowl days. That's right, they were real live "Grapes of Wrath" sojourners.

What the heck I figured, what better way to honor my long lost heritage than by helping a friend move back to 'my' origins? So, off I went, on yet another adventure, and a few days later, I was kicking around in Oklahoma dirt and staying with Turner's father-in-law, Paul. A week or so had passed and I really wasn't sure what I was going to do, where I was going to live . . . to tell the truth, I wasn't sure about much of anything. While driving down the road with Paul one afternoon, we approached a drive with a sign that said: "Okra & Zucchini for sale. Come to the far house up on the hill."

"Turn down that road, Paul," I said. "Maybe there's a place for me to live back there."

Without the least bit of hesitation, Paul turned right and passed through the gate. It was a farm, an old native pecan orchard, and there was a small bungalow nestled under some trees about a quarter mile past the front gate.

"That might be just right for you," Paul said, observing the home that appeared to be occupied.

We drove on past the bungalow, on up to the house on the hill, which wasn't really much of a hill, but it sat up higher than the other home. There were a few ponds and two garden plots. An elderly gentleman greeted us as we pulled up to the home.

"Howdy, neighbor," Paul said, "Is that little house down there for rent?"

"It's already occupied." the man explained. "Fellow's been living there for about six years now. Got some okra and zucchini, though..."

We followed the man through the garage and into the home. They bagged up some okra and Paul handed them five bucks. On our way out the door, Paul told them, "Thanks alot neighbor. If that little place ever comes available, you be sure to let me know." And on we went about our business.

A week or so later, I drove to Memphis, to visit a brother, and then on the Northern Alabama to spend a few days with friends on Wheeler Lake. Then it was time to head back to California, or so I thought. I drove back to Oklahoma, to say goodbye to my friends. When I arrived at Paul's place, he told me that his neighbors had phoned and said the little bungalow would soon be available. We went and had a look. It would need some cleaning and a few repairs, but the price was right and I gave the landlord a deposit.

I stayed at Paul's until the current tenant vacated the property. Then the old man who owned the place and I cleaned it up, painted and all that fun stuff. And this is where the story gets to be really something. Right as we were finishing the renovation, he asked, “Well, how are you going to earn a living?” I told him that I’d written several books, had published one with a print on demand publisher and that I had learned it was a bad choice and not the way to properly publish and sell books. Then I told him, “I think I need to start my own publishing company, but I’m not quite sure where to start.” He casually tells me, “Well, I was in the publishing business for 20 years. What do you need?”

All this from turning down an old dirt road on an intuitive hunch, in a very remote setting in the middle of Oklahoma . . . unheard of, yet it makes completely good sense when one is open, when one is on their path. The old man went home to eat lunch and then phoned me within an hour with a list of contacts.

At this point . . . well, one chooses life or death, to me it is life or death, anyway - no way could I thumb my nose to the gods. I’d suffered far too much over the years for not listening and following the signs and knew that if I didn’t follow what was being laid out before me, there would be too big a price to pay. I'd been in contact with Jackson Fisher since returning home to the States. He knew about my frustrations with print-on-demand publishers and he had been encouraging me to pursue publication elsewhere. He wanted to see my first three novels in print, the Malcolm Clay Trilogy, and he had offered to help see to it that this was done. I picked up the phone and called on Jackson . . . suppose you could say I asked him the famous question, "Whom does the grail serve?" then we bowed to the great spirit, followed fate and Fisher King Press was born.

Eye of the Needle

2008-04-11T01:15:00.006+02:00

The eye of the needle was painted many years ago. It has to do with judgment, judging self and others. At first it seemed a curse, to be filled with so much prejudice for what and who I was taught to disdain.

Eventually, this judgment had to be turned onto itself, judging judgment and self-disdain. Only then could seeing with a critical eye bring salvation. I've learned that judgment is a valuable tool, just as long as I'm being true to values based on my feelings, and not a rigid set of hand-me-down falsities.

Disregarding my inner voice and being true to others has faithfully betrayed and led me astray. Many might consider this a selfish attitude, yet if I am untrue to myself, how can I be true to others?

The Unlived Lives of my Ancestors

2008-03-18T00:00:00.008+01:00

January of 1998, I leased out my home in the great Central San Joaquin Valley of California and rented a small studio in Carmel Valley. I'd work in farm machinery business for three of four days and in the evenings stay with my maternal Calvinist Grandmother in my hometown. Then I'd drive the three hour path to Carmel and spend three of four days in my little hideaway. It was on one of these long weekend retreats that I painted 'The Unlived Lives of My Ancestors.'

I don't recall the dream that inspired this painting, but it has to do with lost life, or un-lived life. The headstone on the bottom right corner is that of my paternal grandparents. I had been raised a bit lopsided you might say. Since birth, my maternal Dutch Calvinist heritage had been venerated and my Oklahoma American Indian lineage, and all the spiritual wisdom that is rooted deep within this land and ancestry that goes back far beyond the European Invasion, had been abandoned and left for dead. Ten years ago is when I finally began to honor this side of my being. And as I write these words, I'm a bit sad to admit this, that as a child I fell prey to a rigid religious fundamentalism that in so many ways crushed my spirit and still to this day tortures my soul.

My dutch grandmother, she used to keep her yard so nicely manicured, but here in this painting, the trashcan is tipped over and a new or renewed spirit is rustling up what's left of the prior years' leaves. Then there are the little sperm or embryos floating up above the headstone, new life has risen from the grave. New growth, the tree, perhaps the tree of life, is rooted in the ground where my American Indian ancestry is buried. There are other images, too, but now they are calling:

"Time to turn inward, Mel, time to put your ear to the ground, listen, to the earth, the many generations that have come and gone before you. Turn away now, from all that heady fanatical fundamentalism, all those insane creeds and false interpretations. Time to listen to the Great Spirit that comes to you in the sleeping and waking dreams. The wind, a dark cloud, a kite, a stone, a blackbird, a fox, a bobcat, a coyote, and sometimes even a squirrel, or the wisdom that comes from a child whose youthful innocence and wonder hasn't been blighted by the white man's so-called mechanical scientific maturity and chemical wisdom."

Into the Early Hours

2008-03-17T00:59:00.003+01:00

Into the early hours of the morning,
I dance with my ancestors,
feeling their joy and pain. Only They,
these Old Ghost can show me who I really am;
They are far enough removed to carry this responsibility.

In spite of their love and goodwill,
in spite of all their efforts and admirable intentions,
Mother and Father, they are too close,
their love is not yet eternal.

Someday it will be; love transcendent
after they have past,
when my grandchildren's grandchildren call upon them;
call Them out to dance.

It's five AM: yesterday, I cooked dinner at three in the morning.
For many days, I've been awake all night, until the sun rises.
At first, I kept telling myself: "Correct this. Get back on track."
Then I realized; I am doing exactly this, finding a natural rhythm.

Nothing is wrong with being awake until six in the morning, sleeping 'til two in the afternoon.
Insanity lies, not in falling into my own rhythm, but instead
in trying to fall into someone else's, into the cadence of convention.
Perhaps other rhythms aren't wrong, but for my soul, they are false.

I've yet to decide on dinner this morning. Then again, maybe I won't eat?
Instead, I'll wait for breakfast; wait until the rest of the world is commuting home,
merging onto those congested highways, those plugged up arteries of what once was,
not a machine.

Angels; they're out there, you know,
silently rolling drums and waiting, to love me.
I'm learning to listen, to hear,
my heart beat.

Into the early hours of the morning,
I dance with my ancestors,
feeling their joy and pain. Only They,
these Old Ghost can show me who I really am;
They are far enough removed to carry this responsibility.

In spite of their love and goodwill,
in spite of all their efforts and worthy intentions,
Mother and Father, they are too close,
their love is not yet eternal.

Someday it will be: love transcendent
after they have past,
when my grandchildren's grandchildren call upon them;
call Them out to dance.

Mel Mathews
Borgo Allegri, Firenze
January 15th, 2005

The Cosmic Ovary

2008-03-16T03:00:00.003+01:00

Occasionally, I'll dream about disease, cancer or some other catastrophic illness. It may come in the form of a person I know who is suffering or has suffered such a malady, or it might be tied to an unknown image. Over the years, I've learned that most often, the dream is not a message of impending doom, but instead, an aspect of myself that longs for dialog and relationship. Often what 'eats' at me, what causes me 'dis-ease' are unhonored or unrecognized aspects of my soul demanding a voice, expression, their very right to 'be'.

'The Cosmic Ovary' was painted in Firenze, September 2002, while mediating on one of these unsettling dreams. I was living on via della Mosca—The Way of the Fly . . . I promised myself to be true to this writing, to speak what comes to mind and not hold back in an effort to please readers, so here goes.

Flies, the pesky little bastards, one minute you'll find them roosting on a pile of dog crap, the next moment, they might be buzzing around your ear, or dancing a filthy jig on your just delivered dinner plate. Flies, they've been known to lay their eggs in piles of cow dung, or other unsavory locals. Who else would abandon their progeny in a pile of shit? Well, perhaps I should be careful in asking such a question—flies take on many forms. Perhaps it's self preservation, survival of a species. After all, aren't most dung heeps avoided at all cost. Perhaps it's the safest place in the world for a fly to raise a family?

You know, this is really stupid, writing about flies, dog crap, and disease, but . . . well, I promised to be true to the process. Perhaps that's what The Cosmic Ovary is—a pile of dog shit in disguise, hiding the very gems and unborn aspects of my soul. Careful where you step! You just never know.

By the way, I find it quite vain to brag about the Malcolm Clay Trilogy - it's simply not my place. However, I can certainly brag about John Atkinson's Timekeeper and Larry Staples' Guilt with a Twist. Both of these publications are well worth your time and there are links right on this page to order your copies. Go on, don't wait till tomorrow - just do it, NOW!

The Unveiling of a Wounded Heart & Soul

2008-03-08T21:50:00.013+01:00

At a C.G. Jung gathering in Monterey, California in 1997, 'by chance' I met Joseph Pagano - a young man of 80 years at that time. I'd had an interest in Jung and Archetypal symbolism, although at the time of this gathering, I had no previous experience with depth psychology. I'd spent many years in a therapist's office, for fifty bucks an hour, venting my anger and frustrations brought on by the pressures of a demanding sales career. I also did my fair share of pissin' and moanin' about a failed marriage and a few love affairs, you know, the whole 'woe is me,' life's victim sort of thing. In reflection, fifty bucks an hour once a week was cheap, a wise investment. It provided a place for me to vent my rage and other negative feelings and not have to bring them out onto my clients or friends. These many hours were also preparing me for something I had no intention of entertaining - leaving my place in the world as victim behind.

I had taken a break from the selling world and rented a studio apartment on the Monterey Peninsula for a month. There was an ad in a local paper about the Jung Society gathering on Friday evenings. Aside from ordering coffee or a meal at a restaurant, I'd been alone, pretty much in silence for a week, so I phoned to learn about the Jung gathering. Joseph answered the phone and after a brief visit, he said he'd hold a seat for me that evening. I showed up, met a few people and listened to the presentation, and did the same for the following next three Friday evenings. On my fourth visit, I told Joseph that I'd be returning to work and probably wouldn't see him again. He then mentioned something to me about working on my dreams. "Oh, my dreams will take care of themselves," I told Joseph. He then handed me his card with his office and home phone number, telling me to call anytime.

I then returned to my old selling life in the Central San Joaquin Valley. A few months passed. I was reading James Joyce's Dubliners and The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man at the time. It was shortly after Saint Patrick's Day and the book was on a discount stand in Barnes & Noble. I'd read The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man and was now reading a few of the stories in Dubliners and I'll never forget: it hit me while sitting in my truck, in the drive through line at the In and Out Burger - I'm not creating anything! I pulled Joseph's card from my wallet and phoned his office, but there was no answer. Then I called his house. After a short exchange of pleasantries, I explained, "Joseph, I'm reading James Joyce's The Portrait of an Artist as a Young Man and . . . well, I'm not creating anything."

"Come over and let's talk about it," Joseph suggested. But I didn't go, not right away, that is. A few more months passed and then a close friend who I'd gone to high school with died. I'd actually worked on his family's ranch and we shared an old farmhouse together when we were in our early twenties. The dope and booze finally caught up with Charles and at 35, he was dead. I attended the funeral service for Charles, and about a week or two later, I decided to visit Monterey and to attend a Friday evening Jung gathering. The event ran late that night and finally I told Joseph that I really had hoped to visit with him, but that I had to go because I was staying with friends.

"Come back tomorrow morning," Joseph suggested.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," I answered.

"Yes it is. I'll be here."

"What time?"

"Oh, I don't care, nine or ten, you pick."

Ten the next morning it was. I can't say for certain, as that was nearly 11 years ago, but I most likely brought my morning cup of coffee along. We visited for a while. I told him how I'd once been a drunk, had gone through all that rehab stuff, told him about my lost loves and all the other existential pains that come along with life.

On I went for a while and then once there was a break from my rhetoric, Joseph said, "Well, perhaps some day you'll come to a place where you'll be able to accept your life for what it is?" Then he asked if I recalled any recent dreams.

"Yeah, I was a cowboy boot, sitting in a wheel chair, and one of my clients was pushing me around. I think his kids were with him."

"What do you make of that dream?" Joseph asked.

"I'm tired of being the victim, and I'm tired of being pushed around. These boots were made for walking, goddammit, and that's just what they're gonna do . . ."

I met Joseph or visited with him on the phone quite often over then next few years. We worked on my dreams, I'd tell them to him and then he'd ask me what they meant. He never told me. Sometimes he'd hint, but most often Joseph let socratic wisdom guide the way.

Occasionally, if the dreams stopped, Joseph would suggest that I paint, said I didn't need to be a painter to paint, said it was just another way of communing with the psyche, communing with one's soul. He said it was a way of priming the pump when the flow of psychic energy had been put on hold. I went out and bought a starter kit with few tubes of acrylic paints and a brush or two. Sometimes I'd tear open a brown paper bag and use that for a canvass, sometimes it was just an old piece of cardboard, sometimes it was actually a canvass, that is if I found them on sale. Anyway, when the dreams stopped, Joseph would say to paint, and sometimes he'd suggest that I paint a dream image, meditate on the feeling from a dream and just paint, so I did.

Over time, I plan to post these paintings to my blog, along with some writing about my thoughts and feelings that accompany these images. In no way am I suggesting that these images are worthy of commercial artistic recognition - if anything, it would be quite the opposite. However, primitive and crude as they may appear, as is the case with my writing at times, these renderings are still a reflection of my soul, perhaps the evolution or the unveiling of the many layers of one man's soul.