Gamesmanship

(all photographic information is unknown)

All games are governed by rules. I think of games in relationships and cringe. But I guess that games must exist like anything that's generally known to exist. Like any law of nature, gravity or instinct, or reflex; like snow piles in parking lots resembling mountains for the same forces that shape mountains shape them; or the blood-cell shape of new, moving, river-ice, pouring past the banks and bridges, pushed and pulled. Big horn sheep butting heads-- Whyte Avenue yob culture. The forces on everything are the same, and somewhere we're all shaped by these forces, and are, well, forced to act accordingly.

Patience is finite. Love is often interrupted and dissuaded by the lack of practical, relational progress. The same punched-in-the-gut feeling is known by all jilted lovers, across lovers.

Prophesy is real, but it''s by no means supernatural, nor is it a proclamation of genuine inevitability, it's merely a case of perceiving the slight, met with innate anticipation of outcome. You can feel the end, and by each acknowledgment, and each contemplation thereof, the end slides closer. Feeling the end is natural for most; if you focus on it too much though it cheats you and becomes a self-mutilating/self-fulfilling prophesy. You can see too much, you're perception becomes skewed and your motives jealous. Select insecurities further provide a basis for more gamesmanship, which in turn creates the reaction of increasing suspicions, and decreasing acceptance. Unconditional love is at last very conditional. If romantic, the truth stings you, and yet again you ponder the inconsequential, the fantastical, the very fountain of youth: a world without responsibility, a world without end.

In moments like these you falsely praise the possibility of such loss and like a fool you prematurely congratulate yourself for future conquests not yet attempted. But the pain you've known twice before will actually floor you, even killing you a little bit. And then, as before, you will stand up and walk away--- hopefully more prepared for your next endeavour, but hopefully not too acclimatized by the trauma of relationships, for that is pure bitterness.

Jung on Instinct and Consciousness

If psychic life consisted only of self-evident matters of fact – which on a primitive level is still the case – we could content ourselves with a sturdy empiricism. The psychic life of civilized man, however, is full of problems; we cannot even think of it except in terms of problems. Our psychic processes are made up to a large extent of reflections, doubts, experiments, all of which are almost completely foreign to the unconscious, instinctive mind of primitive man. It is the growth of consciousness which we must thank for the existence of problems; they are the Danaan gift of civilization. It is just man’s turning away from instinct – his opposing himself to instinct – that creates consciousness. Instinct is nature and seeks to perpetuate nature, whereas consciousness can only seek culture or its denial. Even when we turn back to nature, inspired by a Rousseauesque longing, we “cultivate” nature. As long as we are still submerged in nature we are unconscious, and we live in the security of instinct which knows no problems. Everything in us that still belongs to nature shrinks away from a problem, for its name is doubt, and wherever doubt holds sway there is uncertainty and the possibility of divergent ways. And where several ways seem possible, there we have turned away from the certain guidance of instinct and are handed over to fear. For consciousness is now called upon to do that which nature has always done for her children – namely, to give a certain, unquestionable, and unequivocal decision. And here we are beset by an all-too-human fear that consciousness – our Promethean conquest – may in the end not be able to serve us as well as nature.

Problems thus draw us into an orphaned and isolated state where we are abandoned by nature and are driven to consciousness. There is no other way to open us; we are forced to resort to conscious decisions and solutions where formerly we trusted ourselves to natural happenings. Every problem, therefore, brings the possibility of a widening of consciousness, but also the necessity of saying goodbye to childlike unconsciousness and trust in nature. This necessity is a psychic fact of such importance that it constitutes one of the most essential symbolic teachings of the Christian religion. It is the sacrifice of the merely natural man, of the unconscious, ingenious being whose tragic career began with the eating of the apple in Paradise. The biblical fall of man presents the dawn of consciousness as a curse. And as a matter if fact it is in this light that we first look upon every problem that forces us to greater consciousness and separates us even further from the paradise of unconscious childhood. Every one of us gladly turns away from his problems; if possible, they must not be mentioned, or, better still, their existence is denied. We wish to make our lives simple, certain, and smooth, and for that reason problems are taboo. We want to have certainties and no doubts—results and no experiments—without even seeing that certainties can arise only through experiment. The artful denial of a problem will not produce conviction; on the contrary, a wider and higher consciousness is required to give us the certainty and clarity we need.

-Carl Jung, The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche, The Stages of Life