Active Imagination 8

Finding the frivolous, the antidote to arrogance, and the mystery of fiction.

I’ve given Jung’s Active Imagination “technique” one week. Each day I’ve worked with the same image. I’ve closed my eyes and seen myself working in an old, spare bedroom where I used to practice and write music. Minor details have changed. In one session my work was on a computer screen. In another, paper and pen. But, the containing image hasn’t changed.

Furthermore, it’s a memory. I didn’t imagine the room, I remembered it.

“Am I doing this right?”

“Is this all bullshit?”

Maybe I haven’t done real Active Imagination, regardless, the results have been positive. So, I let the voice of my doubts recede and continued to practice. That image was superceded today, by a stronger one.

I followed the usual prompts given by the soothing voice of the therapist with the British accent. Once relaxed, my mind cleared long enough for the new image of a closed door to appear. The wooden door had a glass window like classroom doors in elementary schools.

I entered a small, second-story office. The wallpaper was a tacky, hunter green and peeled loose in one corner. There was a brown leather armchair and a gray, metal desk with leather top.

On the desk was an unwrapped ream of cream-colored paper. That’s what I smelled, freshly milled paper.I fed the paper into a typewriter then hunched over the keyboard so I could hunt-and-peck my work. The longer I clicked on the typewriter keys, the faster my words appeared on paper. When I looked up for the first time I was still sitting next to a ream of paper, but I’d left nothing blank. I took the finished manuscript and slid it into a manila envelope.

The whole scene felt like I’d traveled back in time and become Raymond Chandler. I must’ve been writing mystery or something in that detective genre. There’s no other way I can explain the image. But for the fun of that, I’d become serious about the process.

I seemed to have no sense of play and felt challenged to find the frivolous. I’ve been accused of taking myself to seriously. In short, I’m arrogant. There’s a semantic connection between humility and humor. Self-deprecating humor is the antidote to arrogance. The whole trench coat, smoky-office vibe had the soul of Glen Gary Glen Ross. Art that takes itself too seriously puts me to sleep.

Keeping light, having fun with the creative process makes it easier to take action. I pulled the manuscript back out of the envelope, turned it over and fed the first blank sheet back into the typewriter.