The Felix Unger Conversion Scale

I used to be Felix Unger.  One day in an interview, Ashley Judd remarked that she had been struggling with this…compulsion? shall we say? and when she found herself wiping up counters in ladies rooms she Knew Something Had To Be Done.  Oh.  Well.  As it happened, I had recently found myself more than once doing that.  You know, leaving it nice for the next person sort of thing.  So, as with all drives and compulsions that rise up out of the deep, it’s quite a tussle, and quite a lot of work to decide what is what and why it is really OK if the stuff on the coffee table isn’t perfectly lined up. Followed closely by who knew? there’s more than one way to wipe a counter down. And, one of my personal favorites: No one was ever murdered by a dust bunny. Among other things.  Eventually one arrives at a place of reason.   Then, the fun begins.  Why was I doing this in the first place?  There is a wonderful  novel, CARMICHAEL’S DOG, by R.M. Koster, that talks about this.  Carmichael is a novelist full of devils that drive him to…well…anyway….. and his dog is the only one who sees what’s happening.  Hilarity ensues.  As usual.

So, anyway, there I was this morning trying to keep my eyes squeezed shut, no I do NOT have to face reality yet, thinking of catchy blog titles.  OC/Dc?  Then the radio came on and there was, in fact,  AC/DC singing: how do you make your money.  Which leads us to today’s point, in the usual roundabout way.  I finally figured out what it is I “do”.  This might seem like not such a big deal except this is the first time I’ve been even remotely clear about it, in my own words.   Last night The Partner and I were talking as we usually do, and he put into words something that clarified what Jung called the Shadow Self to me, finally. ( I’ve been wondering about this since dinosaurs roamed the earth.  A bit slow, sometimes.) Things happen to a person, and they really cannot tolerate thinking about them. At all.  So they get driven way, way back in the brain, waaaay past the room called “Now Where Did I Put That?” and into a place so deep it verges on being forever un-findable.  These places don’t necessarily have to have a value attached to them.  Sometimes the things we can’t accept and shove into that walled space are “good” things, sometimes they’re ” bad”, sometimes they cause us unbearable pain.  But they still emit a life long signal.  The lighthouses and poisoned arrows in our hearts and souls are always sending out communiques to us, one way or another.  You can call this resonance, perhaps.  I realized this morning that what I (in my view, am allowed to) do: is communicate with these things in people and help them make their way through.  For this gift I am profoundly grateful.  Now I get why I am always the person a dog out on a walk comes up to with a thorn in its paw.


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