A Measured Chronomancy of Reading
There is no time like the present
I’m not going to remember 80% of what I read of Carl Jung’s Man and His Symbols.
I’ll remember anecdotes, the odd point that really strikes me in the moment, the feeling of the text. And for the weeks I’m reading it, I will be swimming in that feeling and applying it to my life.
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But once that period is over, I put Man and His Symbols on a shelf, maybe pull back at it for a specific passage, but it’s influence will wane.
I found a book discussing the Tao by Jung in my Grandmothers book collection. It was dusty and gained a “old book” smell after the decades spent in her possession. I was ecstatic that she had read Jung, and that we now shared an intergenerational fascination with this man. I eagerly asked her about it after looting her library for anything related (including a tarot deck and workbook). She was happy about my fascination, but admitted that it’s been nearly 60 years since she’s read it, and at that point had lost any idea of what was written in it.
I read under the assumption that I’m hoarding the knowledge much like a dragon’s lair in the mountains. That once the page had been read, I’d at least have that. A notch of knowledge to note down for forever future reference. This, as you have clearly guessed by now, is not the case.
We don’t live for very long, but our bodies remake themselves constantly. We can’t expect neural marble statues. We are swimming in tides of change.
Information, books, self-help are a limited boost in a certain area. They are supplementary material to push you in a certain direction for a duration of time. Maybe for only a few weeks or months.
The subject of my study of Jung isn’t Jung or any of his patients, but myself. I am the thing being moved and moving, and I must embrace that to it’s fullest.
