Looking inward to find my soul

Grieving what was never had and working through the feels

It’s morning here in Iceland as I write this draft. Ms. Chubbicorn and our oldest are sleeping in.

I’m sipping my espresso and watching the view.

All is quiet.

These past few weeks have been dark as parts of grief is emerging for me. The grief of the loss of things I never had. As I wrote in my past letters, I had a cosmic cry from one of my therapy workshops, a cry from my ancestors. As that space cleared out, there’s 10x more waiting to work itself out.

When will it end?

Will it end?

I brought a copy of Francis Weller - The Wild Edge of Sorrow. This one is not a quick read but something more profound.

Modern technological society has forgotten what it feels like to be embedded in a living culture, one rich with stories and traditions, rituals and patterns of instruction that help us become true human beings. We live in a society with little regard for matters of the soul. - Francis Weller - The Wild Edge of Sorrow

While all that grief is slowly emerging, I came across this great video on Youtube. As AI begins to surpass our intellectual abilities, I’m questioning our role as humans. We created a society, a machine before the machine that uses raises human intellect to the forefront.

We walked away from our humanity. We separated ourselves from the earth, from the community's organic connectedness.

We replaced it with social media.

Filled the empty voids with dopamine hits.

Chased followers and likes.

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I found this beautiful video about Carl Jung.

In the first stage of our life, we focus on individuation, focusing on the outer world, which solidifies our personality.

The second half of life focuses on our inner world. We often have a mid-life crisis when we are not prepared to align into our conscious and unconscious worlds.

The Mother Wound remains deep

My parents were refugees from the Vietnam War. The immediacy of the war wounds pushed them to move forward, never looking back, and never taking rest.

“When survivors aren’t allowed sufficient time to grieve, however, the wounds close too soon, remain infected and never healed.”

In my formative years, I never formed the loving attachment I needed, that was my birthright. The village of faces, loving eyes, and gentle touch was replaced with a society of independence and isolation. My parents, just fresh from their traumatic life, moved on into a society that praised never looking back.

I filled this created void with materialism, addiction, and consumption.

I spent my life chasing what was missing without knowing it was missing, leaving behind a path of destruction and despair (and usually a lot of receipts of things bought but not needed).

As I cross over into my mid-life, I’m spending more time looking at my inner world. Though the pain runs deep, this inner world is infinite.

Welcome to the 80

Thank you for reading fam. These letters will form my book, a document of my journey toward healing. I appreciate you being here with me, and I hope some of it will inspire you toward your own path.

Let me know if you have any questions. I’d love to collect them for a future letter.