I’m going to come right out and say it, because I know of at least one person who’ll ask me about this; yes, I have been a mad, lonely ol’ bag of late, and this all makes perfect sense to me.
I believed that the Mercury archetype makes madness – the Trickster that sends us all a bit batty with ideas and stories and magic. I blamed my slippery-quick mind for soaking up ideas and confusing me – no besieging me – with constant dialogue and argument. I thought I had a brilliant but unruly child in me, who wants wants wants. So many questions, twice as many answers. Too much!
But lately came the revelation that its the Saturn/Senex part of the Senex/Puer syzygy that’s the real pain-maker. Its the Big Daddy Ego that gives form to the spirited, tricky, mercurial wisps of thought. All the stories in the world cannot be real without the Saturnine ‘fixing’ of them.
What I mean is that its now apparent that its the threshold dweller; the terminating, opening-and-closing, border-guarding, ancient in me – Death itself, my own inner Reaper, that takes those thought-threads and makes them, holding them in. All thoughts are of no consequence until the Ego turns them to bones and stones and walls.
And so this is good news – because the message is finally getting through that this part of me is necessary and as loveable as any other. In a monotheistic conceptual universe I may be tempted to solar heroics and ‘shining the light of consciousness’ upon my Ego’s bone-making, but instead I am going to love and honour all of it like I would my own mother.