A comedy of errors 

a comedy of errors


We wear our wisdom like a crown,
And swear the mirror got it wrong;
We build a throne from looking down,
Then call our certainty a song.
The rich announce the poor lack grace,
The poor condemn the rich as fools;
Each tribe puts virtue on its face,
Then sharpens up its favorite tools.
The scholar studies human pride,
And smiles at every lesser mind;
While Ego, seated just inside,
Leaves missing pages hard to find.
The singer breaks the neighbors’ glass,
And calls the howling “raw and true”;
The judges clap, the crowds all pass,
Because bad notes can feel brand new.
The lemon-jawed bank thief, it’s said,
Believed the cameras could not see;
He wore his cleverness instead,
And robbed himself of liberty.
We laugh, as safely we are taught,
At people blind beneath their nose;
Then praise the splendid things we thought,
And miss the button on our clothes.
The party man, the preacher too,
The tycoon, clerk, and professor;
Can find a thousand faults in you,
And call his own a small digression.
For ignorance is not a lack
Of books, or shoes, or social rank;
It is the habit of the back
To bow at truth, then rise and thank.
Still, mercy says we share the same:
A tender wish to be enough;
We hide our doubt behind a name,
And make assurance sound like stuff.
So when the facts arrive to call,
Let laughter loosen up the door;
The humblest fool may learn it all—
The wise one learns he’s fooled before.

Beware DB Norton

Frank Capra’s Meet John Doe

Sometimes the biggest fools

Are the ones who can create the show 

…

DCG

Ever met someone who is so extremely dumb that they don’t know how stupid they actually are? Ever tried to explain a new concept to someone who clearly doesn’t get it? Well, you’re not alone. Researchers have come up with a theory that explains why the less we know about something, the more confident we are in our ability to master it.
So, there’s a term for dumb and dumber? Yes, and it is more common than you might think. Join us today as we explore the avenues of dumbness. In this episode of The Infographics Show: What is the Dunning-Kruger effect?
Named after Cornell University researchers David Dunning and Justin Kruger, the Dunning-Kruger effect is a condition in the field of psychology where an intellectually challenged individual fails to adequately assess the extent of their own intelligence—or lack thereof. Armed with an unhealthy bias of illusory superiority, these low-ability people cannot objectively evaluate their own mental shortcomings. In other words, they are too stupid to know how stupid they are.
In a 1999 study, “Unskilled and Unaware of It,” Dunning and Kruger studied the criminal case of McArthur Wheeler, a bank robber who disguised himself by covering his face with lemon juice. His rationale being that the chemical properties of lemon juice are used in invisible ink, therefore should render him invisible to the bank security cameras. An easy enough mistake—and one that cost him his freedom.
After he was easily caught by the cops, the wannabe thief was shown the video surveillance footage of himself robbing the banks. Genuinely surprised that his plan hadn’t worked, Wheeler was without the required mental capabilities to figure out the gap in his own reasoning.
Other investigations followed, and Dunning and Kruger’s 2003 paper, “Why Do People Fail to Recognize Their Own Incompetence,” observes the following:
“Successful negotiation of everyday life would seem to require people to possess insight about deficiencies in their intellectual and social skills. However, people tend to be blissfully unaware of their incompetence. This lack of awareness arises because poor performers are doubly cursed. Their lack of skill deprives them not only of the ability to produce correct responses, but also of the expertise necessary to surmise that they are not producing them.”
People base their perceptions of performance in part on their preconceived notions about their skills. A good example of the Dunning-Kruger effect in action would be the early audition rounds of a talent show open to the fame-crazy public.
British pop star wannabe Warren Wald became a mini celebrity when he auditioned for the show Pop Idol in 2003 with a rendition of the 1980s track “Eye of the Tiger.” He sang the song so badly that the public adored him. Warren, who led a simple life, suddenly became a tabloid newspaper sensation. He gave interviews on television and radio, and the YouTube clip of him singing went viral.
Warren had no apparent idea just how badly he sang until the nature of his fame came to light. When the penny dropped, Warren realized he was being celebrated for his guts and determination rather than his promise as a vocalist. His singing career is currently on hold.
The public does have a tendency to champion underdogs, and this tends to reinforce the Dunning-Kruger effect. Studies have shown that the Dunning-Kruger effect is not limited to the mentally challenged. High-performing individuals can also overestimate their abilities. In fact, most of us do it a lot of the time.
The way to break out of the habit takes bravery and a level of humility that is uncommon in most people. We have to ask for feedback from a trusted source and be prepared for an honest response. So, if you feel you have a talent for singing, perhaps test your theory on a few honest people before appearing on national television.
What we now call the Dunning-Kruger effect is what the scientists used to call metacognition: thinking about thinking. Perhaps the less we know about a topic and the simpler it appears, the easier it is to ascribe some sort of understanding of it. We must be careful. We could well be one of the many Dunning-Kruger sufferers walking around blissfully ignorant of our ignorance.
So, what’s the dumbest thing you’ve watched somebody do? Were they aware they were doing it, or were they blissfully ignorant? Let us know in the comments.

— the infographics show 

The price of being seen 

The Price of Being Seen


I spent too long at an open door,
Waiting for someone to call my name.
I thought their welcome proved my worth,
And learned applause can sound like shame.
I made my heart a public room,
With every window lit at night.
I hoped the passersby would stop,
And tell me I was built right.
But people carry private storms,
They see through weather of their own.
No careful speech can change the eyes
Of those determined not to know.
So much of life is wasted breath,
Explaining wounds we did not make.
We mend what others threw apart,
Then blame ourselves when we still ache.
We trade our dignity for likes,
For seats beside a borrowed flame.
We shrink to fit another’s hand,
And lose the shape that held our name.
What is popularity but smoke?
What is attention but a spark?
It warms the face for half a breath,
Then leaves the room as cold and dark.
The hamster wheel will call itself
Ambition, love, or being kind.
But if it asks you to disappear,
It is not peace you hope to find.
There is a courage without noise:
To stop, to leave, to not explain.
To set down guilt that is not yours,
And let the silence hold the pain.
I am not saying it is easy.
The old need knocks upon the door.
But every time you choose yourself,
You need their verdict a little more.

…

DCG

It took me a long time to realize this.
But the best thing I ever did for myself was get quiet. Not silent out of anger, not silent to prove a point—just quiet.
I stopped explaining myself. I stopped trying to be understood by people who already decided not to understand me.
Have you ever done that? Have you ever tried to prove your heart to someone who already made up their mind about you?
That kind of pain is exhausting. It drains you slowly—not all at once, just little by little—until one day you realize you’ve been abandoning yourself trying to be accepted by people who were never going to hold you right.
So I let it go. I stopped trying to convince people I was a good person. Because the truth is, the people who need convincing usually aren’t the people meant to stay.
I stopped fixing things I didn’t break. I stopped apologizing for things that were never mine. I stopped carrying guilt that didn’t belong in my hands.
And for the first time in a long time, I felt peace. Not loud peace, not the kind you post about, not the kind you perform for the world—the quiet kind.
The kind that sits beside you when the room is still, when the phone is down, when there’s nothing left to distract you from yourself.
The kind of peace that asks you gently, “Why were you trying so hard to be chosen by people who never chose you?”
That question changed me. Because I realized something I should have known all along. My worth was never up for debate. Not then, not now, not in someone else’s hands, not in their approval, not in their attention, not in whether they stayed or whether they walked away.
I don’t need to be seen by everyone. I don’t need to be understood by everyone. I just need to be honest with myself.
And that’s where the strength came from. Not the loud kind of strength, not the kind that argues, defends, or keeps receipts—the quiet kind. The kind that stands still and knows. The kind that says, “I know who I am, even if you don’t.”
And maybe you needed to hear that today. Maybe you’ve been over-explaining yourself, over-giving, over-reaching, over-extending your heart, just hoping someone would finally see you the way you saw them.
Maybe you’ve been shrinking just to keep the peace. Maybe you’ve been calling it love when really it was your exhaustion begging not to be left alone.
But what if the peace you’re looking for is on—
— attribution from an adaptation from a post by @elize_only

It is now that I begin to truly see 

The dream: 2247 Baily Avenue.

The childhood home — one room where I grew up, and then the other room, once my brother’s, where I stayed with my own children for a time after my divorce.


Two kinds of shame: one as a child, and one as an adult.
The shame of the adult takes an even tighter hold on the constraints of your manhood when it is shared with your own children. That differs from the shame you carry as a child yourself, growing up in the house of pain.

How you deal with the shame you feel depends a great deal on the audience around you.

Note

The trauma: CEN or childhood emotional neglect: CPTSD 

The father: authoritarian narcissistic

The mother: codependent, and lived in fear, but also looked away and did not protect

The ex-wife: also authoritarian with a need for control

In one room, you are the child

And in another room, you have your children who see 

Two rooms in the same bewilderment

The common denominator: me

The activities of a child versus 

The activities of a man

The comparison is poignant

But the shame still stands

I now understand my trauma

Unhealed wounds must be processed through connection

In silence, they fester unseen

So with this testimony, I raise my objection 

One shame is learned

One is self created

The burdens of inequity

When you point the finger at yourself – it’s related

The lessons of accountability

And the politics of shame

It’s extremely hard to point the finger

When the finger is pointed at your name

Oh how we justify

The economy of quid pro quo

Just what do we testify?

Sometimes, I don’t rightly know

Like sitting in your own church

Like sitting in your own pew

Just what will we receive?

Just what will we do? 

In childhood I learned to overthink

In adulthood, I did the same

I now try to integrate emotion 

The man, the boy, and the claim 

Over 50 years with living in silence

The reflection from the polished mirror, I am now me 

Funny how when I start to go blind

It is now that I begin to truly see 

CLG

…

DCG

Cognitive dissonance inside a lucid dream

Cognitive Dissonance Inside a Lucid Dream
A thought experiment from DCG
~
Close your eyes.
You are asleep. You are dreaming.
And you know it.
The walls are soft. The rules are gone. No one is watching. Nothing you do here will follow you into the morning.
Or will it?
~
In my waking life, I hold certain beliefs. I have written some of them down and numbered them. I call them life hacks.
They are simple. They are mine. I live by them, or I try to.
But what happens to a belief when you carry it into a place where it no longer seems to matter?
That is the thought experiment.
~
Life hack #1 says:
It’s easier to avoid temptation
Than it is to resist it.
Life hack #5 says:
The more you tell the truth
The easier it becomes.
Awake, these two live together in peace. One tells me to step away from temptation. The other tells me that what I repeat, I become.
Now take them into the dream.
In a lucid dream, temptation does not wait at a distance. It stands in front of me. I cannot walk away from the room, because I am the room. Avoiding it is no longer possible in the usual way.
So life hack #1 goes quiet.
And life hack #5 begins to whisper something darker. If telling the truth gets easier each time, then what about everything else I repeat? If I give in once in a dream, knowing it is a dream, does it get easier the second time? The third?
One belief says step away.
The other says you become what you rehearse.
In the dream, I cannot step away.
So what am I rehearsing?
~
Here is the question underneath all of it.
If I know it is only a dream, is there any penalty?
No one is harmed. Nothing is broken. I wake up and the world is exactly as I left it.
And yet, I chose. I was awake inside the sleep. I knew my beliefs, and I set them down, just to feel what it would be like.
Is that a sin?
Or is it only a picture of one?
~
The other life hacks do not stay silent either.
Life hack #2 asks what I would find if I looked into my own heart. What was the true intent behind the choice? In a lucid dream, intent is all there is.
Life hack #6 warns that avoiding, done as a habit, can leave you always lost. Is calling it “just a dream” its own kind of avoiding?
Life hack #7 says what we run from pursues us, and what we face transforms us. Was the dream a place where I faced something? Or a place where I ran toward it?
Life hack #8 says the strength of your faith and the error of your convictions will entangle. Is that not exactly what happens here? The belief and the betrayal, tied together in the same moment.
And life hack #10 reminds me that the water never changed. Only the room. If I am the water, does it matter what room I am poured into? Or does the water remember every room it has been in?
~
I do not have the answer.
I am not sure there is one.
But I keep coming back to a few simple questions.
If I would not do it awake, why do I want to do it asleep?
If it means nothing, why do I feel it?
If I do it once to know the feeling, will I do it again to keep the feeling?
And if a pattern forms in the place where no one sees, is it still only a dream?
Or is it a practice?
~
Maybe the dream is harmless.
Maybe it is a rehearsal.
Maybe it is a mirror, showing me what I would do if the consequences disappeared.
Maybe that is the most honest place I will ever stand.
~
Close your eyes again.
You are dreaming. You know it.
The temptation is right there.
What do you do?
And who are you when you wake up?
…
DCG

Life Hacks, #1 to #11

  1. Life hack #1: “It’s easier to avoid temptation / Then it is to resist it.” (unknown)
  2. Life hack #2: “If you can look into the heart / What would you find? / The true motivation / What you have behind the mind? / If we do not mark our path / With our true intent / What then guides us? / In our true consent?” (DCG)[thundergodblog]
  3. Life hack number three: “To heal a heart and soul / You must reveal the heart and soul / Always consider forgiveness / Only we control what we console.” (DCG)
  4. Life hack #4: “To forgive is not for the ‘sole sake’ of relieving another of their guilt, but rather for the ‘sake of the soul’ that had been perpetrated upon!” (DC Gunnersen)[thundergodblog]
  5. Life hack #5: “The more you tell the truth / The easier it becomes.” (DCG)
  6. Life hack #6: “Ignoring, or avoiding is a pernicious kind of sloth / If it becomes a habit / You might always be lost.” (DCG)
  7. Life hack #7: “What we run from pursues us / And what we face transforms us.” (unknown)[thundergodblog]
  8. Life hack #8: “The strength of your faith / And the error of your convictions will entangle.” (unknown)[thundergodblog]
  9. Life hack #9: “Be the reason / Someone has a better day.” (unknown)[thundergodblog]
  10. Life hack #10, “The Water Never Changed”: A bottle of water costs $1 at the corner store and $6 on a plane, but the water is the same. “Nothing about the water was ever the problem. / Only the room it was standing in.” Your worth doesn’t change with the setting.
  11. Life hack #11: “Every day, you have two choices: to focus on what’s wrong, or to embrace what’s right. Choose gratitude. Choose joy. Choose to see the beauty in the little things…” (anonymous)[thundergodblog]
    The post for #1 on the site is dated August 11, 2026, even though #2 is from October 2025. It may have been reposted.

My Hacks and the Dream Experiment
My question: if you know you’re dreaming and still choose to sin, does that corrupt you? My own hacks mostly say yes, but only a little. What matters is the choice you make while aware, not the fact that it happened in a dream.
• Awareness makes it a choice (#2, #8). In a normal dream, things just happen to you. In a lucid dream you’re aware, so choosing the act is an “intent” in the sense of #2. #8 fits too: your faith and the conviction you’re breaking get tangled together. That tangle is the cognitive dissonance i’m describing.
• Repetition builds habit (#1, #5, #6). #5 says truth gets easier the more you tell it. The reverse would also be true: an act gets easier the more you rehearse it. #6 says a repeated habit can leave you “always lost.” #1 says avoiding temptation is easier than resisting it. Practicing the act in a dream wears down the avoiding, so waking life would take more resisting.
• Running from it vs. facing it (#7). This hack leaves room for a different answer. If you use the dream to face a temptation and understand it, it could change you for the better. If you use it to indulge the temptation, it’s the thing you run from, and #7 says that pursues you.
• The counterweight (#3, #4, #10). #10 says the water never changed, only the room. A dream is just a different room, so your core self is still there. #3 and #4 say it can be fixed: be honest about it and forgive yourself. In their terms, that’s “reveal the heart” and “the sake of the soul.”
• #11 suggests a way to aim your lucidity: use your awareness to practice what’s right instead of what’s wrong.
A possible conclusion: a dream doesn’t corrupt you, but deliberately choosing something in a dream and doing it again and again can wear down a belief, the same way a waking habit does. My  hacks point to three stages:

  1. The dissonance: #8
  2. The wearing down through habit: #1, #5, #6
  3. The way back: #3, #4, #7, #10
    This connects to real research. People practice skills in lucid dreams, and imagined rehearsal can shape how you act. Dream ethics, including Augustine’s worries about what he did in dreams,

Is not our own thinking?

Sometimes placed under lock and key

Hidden from ourselves

And from others to see

— DCG 

Three classes shy 

Three Classes Shy


Why do I walk the mesa late at night,
beneath the bell tower’s arch of sun-bleached stone?
Why does the old campus glow so bright
for one who walked away from it alone?
I left my home at seventeen, so young,
and paid my way with every dollar earned.
Who heard the quiet hope upon my tongue
each night I studied while the lamp still burned?
Why is there always one more class to find,
a room I cannot reach, a door that’s locked?
Why does the schedule blur inside my mind
while minutes slip away upon the clock?
Psychology, philosophy, two roads
I traveled far but never saw them end.
Three classes short. Who measures all the loads
a working heart must carry, lift, and tend?
I married, and I worked for forty-one
long years, and gave the best of what I had.
So why, when all those working days are done,
does one unfinished piece still make me sad?
Is this the reason that the dream returns?
Does painful truth play hide-and-seek at night,
and wait behind the library till it learns
I’m strong enough to face it in the light?
And if I face it, what else might I find?
That no diploma measures who I’ve grown?
That every lesson life has left behind
has taught me more than any class I’ve known?
The past is history, so let it be.
The future is a mystery, still unknown.
But now, this very moment, sets me free,
a gift we call the present, all our own.
So if a dream keeps calling you by name,
what hallway, what closed door, waits there for you?
Perhaps it doesn’t come to bring you shame,
but just to walk you home, whole, and new.

…

DCG

“If you don’t heal what hurt you, you’ll bleed on people who didn’t cut you.”

— unknown 

This was the dream. I woke up on the San Diego State University campus, wearing a very plush San Diego State letterman jacket, which I have owned in the past. I was surrounded by people, many of whom were from where I worked. The people I had my career with showed up throughout the dream, even though many of them did not attend San Diego State.
We were sectioned off, almost as if we had been told to serve the campus community for some unknown reason. We were grouped together in square formations, almost like attendance lineups, or even in classrooms. I walked around and saw people from my job. I didn’t know why they were there too, because many of them did not go to the same school I did.

This dream, in some form, keeps coming back: me on the campus of San Diego State University.

Transcription
“Here is the twist. I was three classes shy of getting my degrees at San Diego State University. One in psychology and one in philosophy.”
Annotation: the two degrees would have been a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy.
A Revelation
I left home at 17 and paid my own way through San Diego State University. I studied toward a Bachelor of Arts in Psychology and a Bachelor of Arts in Philosophy while working full-time.
I always meant to finish. But marriage and work took priority, and I spent 41 years with my employer. I ended up three classes short of both degrees, and not finishing those classes is my biggest regret.
My education has always mattered deeply to me. That may be why the same dreams keep coming back. I think they may be my mind returning to the one important thing I never finished the way I wanted to. This isn’t a failure. It shows how much I still value what I worked so hard for.

I convalesce 

In the sanitarium of my mind

I convalesce

Just what then will I epitomize?

Or, do I digress?

The mind is a curious domain

You can turn your attention inside

Discover the connections you’ve made

Then learn where the pit of your fears reside

Consider the invisible opérations

Disassociation or self defense

The subconscious training rituals

The impulse to build a fence

Observations from the playground

Internalized with limited objectivity

Often laid dormant or forgotten

In the shadows of obscurity

Is it really too much to ask?

How we descend upon humanity? 

How we treat each other and ourselves? 

The question in perpetuity 

Some say only knowing the reasons

Will not be enough

You must also be able to feel

Or your experience is just a bluff

The body holds its own accounting
A ledger written in the chest,
A tightness where the words fall silent,
A weight that will not let me rest


What wounds the most is often absent,
Not the blow, but what was never there,
The comfort missing from the doorway,
The empty space of unmet care


A child will trade away the feeling
To keep the bond that keeps him fed,
Authenticity for attachment,
A quiet bargain in his head.


So I learned to think instead of feeling,
To analyze and not to weep,
Assembled reason like a fortress,
And buried sorrow in the keep.


But thought without the heart is exile,
And feeling without thought, a flood;
The mind must learn to hear the body,
The pulse, the breath, the rush of blood.


So I return to meet the younger,
The one who stood beside the wall,
And name the ache he could not utter,
And answer, finally, his call.


To face the shadow is not surrender,
But gathering what was cast aside;
The anger I was taught to swallow
Becomes the strength I need not hide.


Responsibility becomes the medicine,
To carry what I did not choose,
To bear the load and find the meaning
Within the things I feared to lose.


Compassion, then, is not indulgence,
But curiosity made kind,
A question asked without a verdict,
A gentle light within the mind.


The fence I built becomes a garden,
With gates I open and I close;
Not every soul will find the entrance,
But those who do, the heart well knows.


So in the sanitarium of my mind,
I convalesce, but not alone;
The thinking and the feeling marry,
And I, at last, am coming home.

…

DCG

If every lock opened with every key, keys would become useless. People work the same way. You aren’t meant to connect with everyone. The people worth keeping are the ones your personality was meant to unlock. Because your job isn’t to open every door, it’s to find the ones you were made for.

— unknown 

Rented lives 

Rented Lives


We never heard the danger come,
it wore the clothes of ease;
it did not break the door or knock,
it simply took the keys.
The young men learned to call it free,
the hours they slipped away;
but strength is not a thing you rent
and borrow back someday.
When life at last asks them to stand
and lift what they must bear,
they reach for will and find it spent,
already rented there.
The daughters learned to be a picture
before they learned to be;
it’s hard to hear your own soul speak
while watching what they see.
The husband builds and pays and mends,
he keeps the roof and wall;
but useful is not the same as known,
and no one finds him there at all.
The wife holds every heart but hers,
she shelters all from storm;
but somewhere in the holding up
she lost her own true form.
The driven build a bigger life
around the same old wound;
they call the square footage healing,
but the hurt just has more room.
The elders watch the world rush on
with wisdom no one sought;
the grave is not the thing they fear,
but mattering for naught.
And we, the rest, are entertained
right out of what we know,
informed right out of quiet peace,
and lulled from where to go.
This is the only life we have,
not rented, not on loan;
the danger is we’ll spend it all
and never make it home.

…

DCG

Transcript
A lot of people are hurting right now. That’s you. I think this is a must-listen.
So I said to ChatGPT: “I want you to act as a risk analyst. However, your job isn’t to predict the stock market or insurance claims. It’s much more important than that. You are a risk analyst for the human condition. You study what actually puts groups of people in danger before they realize they’re in danger. For each answer, I want you to present the single greatest hidden risk facing that group. I’m looking for the things underneath their habits, culture, technology, family roles, addictions, ambitions, and fears. Stay away from the obvious ones. Keep your responses short and sweet and make it land. Here we go.”
Q: What is putting young men most at risk right now?
A: They are being trained to confuse escape with freedom, so by the time life asks for strength, their willpower has already been rented out to pleasure.
Q: What is putting young women most at risk right now?
A: They’re being taught to become an image before they become a person, and it is hard to hear your own soul when you’re constantly watching yourself from the outside.
(Damn, I worry about that with my girl so much. Think about it all the time.)
Q: What is putting husbands most at risk right now?
A: They’re quietly becoming useful instead of intimate, then wondering why the house they provide for no longer feels like a place where anyone can find them.
(What a line.)
Q: What is putting wives most at risk right now?
A: They’re being asked to make everyone else feel held while slowly losing access to the version of themselves that also needs holding.
Q: What is the main risk for our most ambitious humans?
A: They’re mistaking expansion for escape, building bigger lives around the same wound, and calling the square footage healing.
(Wow. That’s America.)
Q: What is the biggest risk to our grandparents?
A: They’re watching the world move on without asking for their wisdom, and the deepest danger is not death, but the belief that their life has become commentary instead of contribution.
Q: Let’s distill this down to the everyday person, people like myself and those listening. What’s our biggest risk?
A: You are being entertained out of your instincts, informed out of your peace, and distracted out of the one life that is actually yours to live.
(All right, y’all, if you like these shorts, I am…) [clip ends]

— saggy says 


My Answers, Same Prompt
Young men: They’re being offered achievement without risk: games, porn and online rankings all feel like winning, so they never build the tolerance for real failure that turns a boy into someone others can lean on.
Young women: They’re learning to judge their lives by other people’s reactions, so they can be admired and still be unknown, sometimes even to themselves.
Husbands: They’re letting loneliness look like competence. Because they handle everything, they end up with no one they need and no one who knows they’re struggling.
Wives: They’re becoming the family’s memory and schedule, keeping track of everyone’s needs, until their own wants feel like just another item on the list.
The most ambitious: Each goal they reach becomes the minimum, so they’re never done. They gain time and money but lose the ability to feel that anything is enough.
Grandparents: They’re being made comfortable instead of needed. Being kept safe while no one asks anything of them slowly tells them their story is finished.
Everyday people: We react so constantly that we’ve stopped choosing. Hours pass on things we never decided to do, and a borrowed life can feel exactly like our own.

— perplexity 

When you live in the world of shadows 

Why do I share my heart?

Why do I share my soul?

Why  do I find a psychological and philosophical language?

Does it have an Ostentatious toll? 

When will I find my peace? 

Is this the joke of reciprocity?

Do I walk the road to perdition ? 

Or will I give permission for my clemency?

Do I play the game of life?

Or does the game of life play me?

Knowledge is only half the answer 

Wisdom is when you clearly see ! 

I watched an episode of the twilight zone

Or was it an impression of reality?

How deep must I look?

What will be will be ! 

A lost soul may wander

I don’t rightly know

When you live in the world of shadows

To heal you must let it go 

I know the folk singer would say

I know he won’t rescind

“The answer my friend”

“Is blowing in the wind-the answer is blowing in the wind”

…

DCG

Am I  Channeling  Carl Jung


Am I Channeling Carl Jung?


Why do I keep returning to the door
I learned to fear before I learned my name?
What am I hoping to find beneath the floor?
Why does each poem go back there just the same?
Jung called it shadow: what we push away.
Is mine the anger I was taught to hide?
If I invite it in, what will it say?
And can I hear it without taking its side?
I wrote of learning silence in a house.
Did silence keep me safe, or leave me small?
Do I still go quiet as a mouse
When no one here is angry after all?
I wrote of wearing calmness like a coat.
Who taught me how to fasten every seam?
When hurt comes near, why do I clear my throat
And speak as though I’m safely in a dream?
Why does my pride arrive prepared for court
With every slight arranged to make its case?
What does it guard when it cuts kindness short?
What fear is hiding underneath its face?
I wrote that thought could make a fortress last.
Was learning then a shelter from the pain?
When I explain each detail of the past,
Why does my heart still walk into the rain?
I studied how a person comes to be,
The mind, the soul, the habits we repeat.
Did all those years of study help me see,
Or keep me from the feeling at my feet?
Jung listened for the parts a life concealed.
Do I keep hearing them beneath my page?
Is there a grief I’ve carefully not revealed,
Or fear I’ve called good sense for half an age?
Why do I read a silence as a sign?
Why do I search a face for coming rain?
Whose old voice sounds so much like mine
When I tell myself I must endure the pain?
What do I make of that boy on the field,
Still waiting for somebody to draw near?
What did he learn when no one asked him how he’d healed?
Why does his silence still live in me here?
I speak of love, then turn and guard the gate.
I ask for closeness, then prepare to flee.
Is this the shadow Jung asked us to face:
The frightened part I will not let be me?
And what of all the good I set aside?
The softer self I feared the world would bruise?
Is there a gentleness I learned to hide
Because I thought that I would have to choose?
Would Dostoevsky’s man beneath the ground
Know why I argue with myself at night?
Do I build proofs where no proof can be found
So I can say I’m right instead of frightened?
Why does this question follow all I write?
Has something pressed its shape into my soul?
If I can name the thing and bring it light,
Must I still feel it to become more whole?
I think of Maslow and the life I sought.
Is growing more than reaching some clear height?
If all I’ve done is learn to master thought,
Who holds the hurt I keep outside my sight?
Am I, like Jung, pursuing what I miss
When I mistake the mask for all I am?
Can I hold both the wound and joy in this,
And stop condemning one to save the man?
I almost sign this page, then change my mind.
Must I give strangers every private name?
Can I leave those I love and hurt behind
The curtain, yet speak plainly of my shame?
Can I ask the question without scorn?
Can I meet the boy and not demand his proof?
What part of me was waiting to be born
While I stood outside myself beneath the roof?
Please help me understand what’s going on inside.
Not just the story, but the ache beneath.
Can I sit with what I used to hide
And let a feeling pass without a speech?
I think I’m on a path that Jung once knew:
To meet the hidden self, not win a fight.
My steps are mine; his questions help me through.
Could I be growing whole by facing night?

…

DCG

“The most self-aware person in the room is often hiding the deepest pain.
People who were emotionally neglected as children become the biggest intellectualizers in therapy and the healing journey. They get stuck overanalyzing over and over, but terrified of feeling anything in their body.
They might walk into a therapist’s office and get told, ‘Wow, you’re so self-aware. Seems like you got it all figured out.’ But instead of relief and validation, they feel hollow instead, because what’s actually happening is a defense. It’s the suppression of the grief, the anger, the shame, the anxiety that never got to cycle through to actually release.
You see, a child’s first instinct when they are neglected is to cry out for help, to reach for connection. But when that call keeps getting ignored, they learn something else instead: that their cries don’t work. And so they go into the prison of their mind instead. They suppress the feeling, they disconnect, dissociate, and intellect becomes the only safe place left.
And it sure fools everyone, including themselves. But what’s underneath is a nervous system that actually collapsed. It’s the belief that feeling emotions puts them in a helpless and hopeless situation.
The intellectualization isn’t really making them smarter. It’s just trauma that’s still in control, and it costs them dearly: relationships that never really feel safe, a body that never gets to relax and loosen up, years—maybe even decades—understanding themselves so perfectly while nothing actually changes underneath.
But eventually, like all coping mechanisms, it starts to break at the seams: random bouts of crying, reactivity that they can’t explain, numbing out, avoiding hard conversations, or having hard conversations that immediately turn into explosions.
Now, if this is you and you want to get out of this, you have to go beyond the mind, and that’s a journey into the body, into the nervous system, into the parts that you never got to develop.
So one quick move that you can do the next time that feelings come up inside you is to place a hand—a soft hand—on where you notice it in your body. And there’s a lot of science backing this up now: just stay with it for at least 60 seconds and ride it out. Let the feeling happen. Short window, but big impact.
You might find out that you actually move through the feeling and get to the other side without having to suppress and overthink.
— mindfulness 

Serling Inspired  

The solemnity of our grief 

The anguish in our eyes 

A crisis of conscience

The reason for our lies 

The misanthrope

The beguiled

The forsaken 

The destiny of a child

The false profits

The helrs of sophistry

A travesty within a tragedy -just ask Dostoevsky 

The cult of personality


An “underground man” can build a throne from fear,

Then call the throne his sight;

He shuts the door on what he hears,

And says the room is right.

He sees a wound in someone’s face

And thinks he knows its cause;

He puts his judgment in its place

And calls that judgment law.

The child grows up beneath that gaze,

And learns to hide the bruise;

He wears the mask his father made

Until he thinks he chose.

The liar fears the truth will burn

The last good thing he owns;

He cannot bear to look, or learn

Who suffers for his throne.

And what of us who stand nearby

And see the child grow still?

What truth have we refused to try,

What silence served our will?

Perhaps the hardest thing to face

Is not the liar’s claim,

But how we turn from someone’s pain

To keep a spotless name.

…

DCG