The Dark One-Between Intervals.

The Iliad Bookshop mural

The Dark One

Sitting in my computer room I hear the sound of a flowing river of tires on asphalt. I notice it more distinctly because two windows are opened for fresh air. The contrary sound of birds singing, bees humming, my husband coughing and a random hummingbird, with a sudden bursting motorcycle sound of no fucking muffler, highlights my realm of hearing.

Today I am pulled to read a random reading. Jung’s Black Books are calling. Something from the 3rd book. I get out my small latter to reach up on the top shelves. Heavy and dusty I put it down. I notice that they are out of order. It is 1,3,2, isn’t an interval defined as the distance between 2 notes? I pull the book out and randomly open it up. I read the first paragraph I first touch with my eyes.

“I strive toward those lowlands, where the weak currents, flashing in broad mirrors, stream toward the sea, where all haste of flowing becomes more and more dampened, and where all power and all striving unites with the immeasurable extent of the sea…. Someone is standing there, on the last dune- he is wearing a black wrinkled coat. He stands motionless and looks in the distance. I go up to him. He is pale and gaunt and with a deeply serious look in his eyes. I say to him: Let me stand beside you for a while, dark one. I recognized you from afar. There is only one who stands this way, so solitary at the last corner of the world. “Stranger, you may well stand by me, if it is not too cold for you. As you can see, I am cold, and my heart has never beaten.” I know, you are ice and the end. You are the cold silence of the stones: and you are the highest snow on the mountains and the most extreme frost of outer space. I must feel this and that’s why I stand near you. pg. 114 [v.3]

This quote doesn’t touch me at first but as the day moves on, I realize that I too know the place or the dark one. I call it or him the bone. Some of us have visited this place. For me it is the mystics who brought me back to the goodness of a beating heart and the joy of cool feet in water on a hot day.

With a little jazz in the background the asphalt sea outside all seems good… dare I say normal.

We live in the notes of random intervals. I have read, heard, and understand these stories from other people I love. Their visiting those “end of the world” places, times or the dark one. Some got stuck there not finding their way back. I feel grief. Then there are those that made it through … I see them successful. Life is a strong movement forward. That is what the return takes.

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