Although many books have been written about the psychology of violence (as I learned during my days directing a program for court-referred perpetrators), Dr. The same dynamic of denial applies to entire nationsa€”and goes far toward explaining why the a€?nicesta€? and most restrained people sometimes pick up a gun.
Listening to the Rhino deals not just with outwardly expressed violence, however, but with confronting and transforming archetypal violence (as imaged by the dream figure of the Rhino) manifesting from within the psyche. Following up on Jung's advice to translate emotions into images, Dallett writes about how a symptom or an illness, whether somatic or psychogenic (or both), represents an attempt at incarnation imparted by a spiritual force badly in need of translation from a literal source of suffering into an actively lived symbolic work. Active imagination furnishes a primary Jungian tool for this kind of deep work, but as Dallett reminds the reader, Marie-Louise von Franz always insisted on the importance of completing at least these four steps: setting the ego aside, tending the images, reacting to the images, and putting the results to work in life (italics added). This belief may well be a candidate for what Dallett identifies in another context as a pathological identification with spirit: what Jung identified as inflation. In the chapter a€?Sedating the Savage,a€? Dallett presents many examples of how psychotropic medication represses unpleasant emotions while supporting artificial idealized states of happiness and surface contentment.
While the matter of healing is a major theme of this book, the other is violence, and Dalletta€™s point here is that when violence is repressed it puts the individual and collective into grave peril.
Dallett returns our attention to the potency of active imagination as a tool to activate the psychea€™s potential for literal physical healing as well as psychological wholeness. On the cover is a picture of a rhinoceros with two birds perched on its back, a classic example of a mutually beneficial biological symbiosis. Jungians are often the last bulwark in todaya€™s field of mental health practitioners, who remember the unavoidable reality and necessity of darkness and violence. We must develop an ego that is strong enough to contain the violent side of human nature, Dallett suggests, in order to live up to a€?what Jung saw as the millennial task (of) carrying the divine opposites of good and evil within the individuala€? (p.87). To contain the worst kinds of violence, Dallett suggests that we find a way to give expression to our destructive impulses without causing too much harm. The gist of Dalletta€™s argument, however, points towards incorporating more of the almost lost Jungian technique of Active Imagination.
The Rhino did not simply show up to heal the dreamer, but to inform her that she was to serve him. In Pat Britta€™s own words a€?During my early association with The Rhino, I could tell he wanted something of me, but I did not know what. In the alchemical laboratory of human life we are also mirrors for transformations on a larger scale, the transformation of the spirit in nature. Dallett reminds us that one-sidedness is one of our greatest dangers, be it the lopsided, misunderstood spirituality that denies the spiritual reality of violence or the overly rational slant of todaya€™s scientific community.
We read in some detail here about the work of Jungian analysis, with special emphasis on active imagination, a method for bringing unknown parts of oneself into awareness and into connection with onea€™s everyday personality. Seamlessly, the book then turns to two major topics of special concern in todaya€™s world: the nature of violence and the use of psychotropic drugs. While this discussion of violence focuses on the psychic sources of explosive violence, another section, on the use of psychotropic drugs, looks at contemporary uses of prescription drugs to damp down or cover up difficult, painful, unwelcome emotions (and violence).
What we have in this small book is the fruit of a penetrating mind nourished by long experience of the psyche, and now offering us the essence of that experience, fueled by passionate concern over issues of todaya€™s world. Why is there so much violence around us - shootings in colleges, bullying in schoolyards, violent movies in theatres, graffiti in public spaces, news on television?
Janet Dallett is a Jungian analyst in her seventies, now living in Port Townsend, Washington. Britt had hundreds of Rhino dreams in the course of her nine-year analysis with Dallettt, which always focused on the meaning of his latest appearance. Britt truly grasped the Rhino, writing poetry about him, painting his picture, and even casting him in bronze so he could stand in her front hall, and her damaged heart healed. Dallett attributes Britta€™s healing to her commitment to the Rhino, a voice for what Jung calls the Self, the God within. We are doing to the wild part of our psyche what we have done to the wild parts of the earth.
I especially remember one old guy, batty as hell, his face covered with pus, his bald scalp peeling, his tongue swollen and hanging out of his mouth like a steer at an old-time Kansas City slaughterhouse. I was pulling guard duty and I spotted him when he was a half mile down the hill that leads up to the compound. At noon the day we buried the kid, we saw smoke, a single pencil-thin curl that rose into the sky like jet exhaust, except there weren't any jets any more.
Pete suddenly had that mongrel look on his face, a strange cross between outrage and guilt, but he didn't say anything.
Pete was carrying a shotgun, one of the pumper-action Ted Williams models we'd scavenged out of a Sears Roebuck store somewhere along the line.
We had only about a hundred shells of buckshot left, but Mather had insisted we take every last one of them. That night, Tony and Mather stayed behind with the women and Eric, eleven months old, our only offspring. It was summer, the summer of my twenty-seventh year, and it had been the most glorious summer of my life. I have to believe the guy upstairs has a pretty mean streak of irony because that wasn't it by a long shot. Maybe it was the test of a new killer technology related to the so-called Star Wars program that the late President Reagan had announced a decade before. Maybe the Martians landed in a Kansas cornfield and decided to zap ninety-five percent of the human race, just for kicks. Whatever it was, it silently and quickly burned off half the upper atmosphere, leaving plants to die, food chains to be disrupted and destroyed. We didn't know how bad it had really been until it turned winter, and winter brought no dirty snow on Fifth Avenue, no frost on Macy's windows, no skating in Central Park, no temperatures lower than the sixties, not even in January or February. By spring, the hospitals and doctors were overloaded with skin-cancer cases and people whose vision was fading away to darkness. By summer, the effects of the failed wheat and corn crops were filtering down, and grocery stores experienced their first shortages. We were in Boston when the fabric of American society began to dissolve, slowly but completely, like a cube of sugar in water. Mather had decided to put down roots, at least until we could figure out what the long-term plan would be. Why they didn't establish camps like the rest of us was a mystery not even Mather pretended to be able to solve.
But it wasn't only noise that made the nights strange -- temperatures had been thrown all out of whack, too. Some had been torched and some had self-combusted, but most of the houses still stood -- a curious mixture of white Colonials and shingled Capes and ticko-tacko pre-fab ranches that had been all the rage during the prosperous, inflationless fifties. You didn't need a historian to see that the Quannapowitt in the old days had been a healthy, full-fledged river -- upstream a mile you could see the remains of a dozen mills.
Getting to the barn was easy: Crouching low, we simply followed a waist-high stone wall that ran up to it from the river. What I was prepared for, I suppose, was the usual band of roamers: a group of men and women, middle-aged or younger, with one kid, possibly two. There were no grown men in this group -- no able-bodied grown men, that is, only a wizened old character who looked to be eighty or more sitting closest to the fire.
If the empty cans were any clue, they'd recently finished dinner, but there hadn't been much to eat. Mather later theorized that they had been in hiding somewhere, and had recently been forced out somehow -- maybe when their food ran low, maybe at the hands of some belligerent roamers. With my father's encouragement and guidance, and on very wobbly ankles, I would circle that rink, hour after hour.
I learned, for example, that being good and decent and kind is its own reward, and that working hard is a virtue. Those who know me best may observe, correctly, that I have not taken all of my father's lessons to heart. I had arrived early in Boston for animal rounds, in which the week's experiments on pigs and baboons are reviewed by the scientist and his staff of fellows, post-docs and senior investigators. They are what they've always been, regardless of topic: fairness, balance, accuracy, clarity, and so forth. Merely keeping on top of the field is daunting, as the list of publications in that Boston lab demonstrates.
Which leads to the deeper questions, the moral, religious, cultural and ethical ones -- those raised by people like Christopher Reeve, who sat here two weeks ago in his wheelchair and asked us to ponder the origin of human life. And so, another of our responsibilities as journalists -- perhaps the most important one -- is facilitating a public discourse that will lead to a sound public policy.
Many years ago, when a farmhouse graced the top of Wolf Hill, the path could accommodate vehicles; one, a bus, ended its last journey up there and its rotting remains continue to be a source of wonderment to all who happen upon it. I was interviewed yesterday by a researcher at Harvard's Kennedy School of Government for a case study on the role weblogs played in the downfall of Trent Lott.
Another cool thing about driving to NY is when you get close enough to see big green Interstate highway signs that say New York City.
We're getting close to June 14, when, last year, to people who read this site I just disappeared. Ed Cone links to a story from Mark Tosczak, a NY Times stringer, on getting credit for his work.
I've given Tim Bray his share of grief, but in this piece about the state of CSS, he nails it.
Four years ago: "Salon (justifiably) brags that they've matured to the point where they could send a reporter to Yugoslavia. Cory Doctorow reports on an Apple update that makes it so that iTunes can only stream to people on the same subnet.
On Thursday I'm giving a keynote at the Open Source Content Management conference, or OSCOM. There's been a bit of discussion about my last DaveNet piece, mostly users talking about what they're willing to pay, as if they have all the power.
The power of the software developer not to develop is largely silent, so people don't consider it.
A professional software organization for a well-supported product has 10-20 people, maybe as many as 30 to 40. Let's say you spend 100 hours a year using a piece of software and assume your time is worth $50 per hour. I don't know if this means anything but there are no stories on Google News about Colorado Governor Bill Owens's veto of the state "Super-DMCA" law.
Robert Wiener writes to say that searching for Colorado and veto gets a bunch of hits on Google. Speaking of Google, I was kind of bored and wanted to see how my investment in John Doerr was doing, so I fired up Google, and lo and behold, my story is #3.
I wonder why some weblogs so openly say things that are just plain wrong, that are so easily refuted, without presenting the opposing data, or even suggesting it might exist with a disclaimer like imho, or ymmv, or ianal. Most places I don't expect journalism, but some places I do, and they disappoint often enough to make it noteworthy.
One thread on a respected blogger's site gives the whole weblog tools market to one of the companies. BBC: "Jodi Plumb, 15, from Mansfield, Nottinghamshire, was horrified to discover an entire site had been created to insult and threaten her. Ellen Ullman: "To listen to Mr Engelbart that day almost five years ago was to realize that the computer industry, when it started, was not simply about becoming a chief executive or retiring on stock options at 35. Sjoerd: "It is noisy outside, and 2 riot police cars are racing by, because ADO Den Haag has won the 1st division soccer leage. Flying over Boston or NY it's astonishing how much real estate is used to house dead people.
I was sitting in a law school cafeteria yesterday thinking how far away I was from the threat of terrorism.
Ben Edelman, a Harvard Law student and fellow at Berkman, has been studying Gator, one of the leading advertising servers.
Marketing Profs: "Blogs offer the human voice, which can be loud, controversial, and even wacky.
A few people have suggested asking people to send Google API keys they aren't using and rotate them to work around the fatal flaw. BTW, some people said the Nikon took better pics than the Sony I use now, but I don't think so. Evan Hansen: "Paralyzed by fears of piracy, the record labels have taken years to get their act together for online distribution. Bloki is "a Web site on which you can create Web pages, right in your browser, with no additional software required.
Microsoft's decision to support RSS without arguing over what it is looks smarter every day. Scoble, who works at Microsoft now, says he likes using a desktop app to write his internal weblog. Disclaimer: I've been trying to work on weblog-tool compatibility issues with Google for the last few weeks. BourgeoisBananaIf you're not sure how you should be feeling, a balance between being impressed at the level of detail and revulsion at the subject matter sounds about right.
Dallett's clearly and concisely written book offers thoughtful and sometimes surprising reflections, case anecdotes, and scholarly musings on violence as a spiritual problem.
It is easy for introverts in particular to skip the final step, but doing so severs inner from outer, contemplation from action.
James Hillman has presented a similar critique, which can be summed up by the dictum: Silence the symptom and lose the soul.
It is tiresome to be reminded that Jung believed active imagination to be the sine qua non of coming to terms with the unconscious. Oxpeckers or a€?tick birdsa€? sit on top of the rhino eating insects and noisily warn of approaching danger. It contains big ideas that deserve to be pondered and digested many times and reading this book is an excellent way to re-engage this material. Dallett reminds us that the etymology of the word a€?violencea€? suggests a close relationship between violence and God. Dallett makes a convincing case that our culturea€™s addiction to love, peace and happiness in effect creates senseless violence and that we must learn and find a way to teach our children, that the terrible side of life is not going anywhere. Dallett reminds us that, once a respectful and responsible attitude towards the unconscious psyche has been developed, the meditative dialogue of Active Imagination is the technique for the on-going and life- long task of engaging emerging images. Dallett grounds her reflections by allowing us a glimpse into the lives of two former patients, Pat and Teresa and she shows us the difference in attitude of these two women towards powerful inner animal dream figures.
Britt had this dream, but because she took the image seriously and engaged it for decades to come. It is a potentially dangerous, primitive animal that has visited the dreams and fantasies of Ms.
Dallett makes the analogy to the alchemical work, which Jung had translated into psychological terminology. At first I thought his message was personal a€“ urging me to view life as whole, not with the limited eye of my rational ego. Our collective ego is still trying to maintain its autonomy in relation to the larger mysteries while the power of the feminine in her own totality is pressing into consciousness. This discussion is unusually clear and thorough, giving a readable and rounded picture of this form of psychological worka€”both its potentiality for healing and its dangers. And why are we so fascinated by violence that crime, killing, and war are often at the top of the news? I hear him pronounce: a€?If a thing is worth doing it is worth doing easily!a€? By this he means, according to Britt, that if a thing is worth doing it is worth taking the time to get to know it, so the thing can show you how it wants to be done.
When connected to your inner program something beyond the ego comes to your aid, but when you try to go against your destiny you hit a wall.
Later she realized he wanted to reach a wider audience; he wanted to speak for life, all life, animals, plants and the earth itself.
We North Americans have naively idealized the Christian virtues of kindness and self-sacrifice, dangerously repressing our so-called negative emotions.
We are sedating the suffering of body and soul with psychoactive drugs, unaware that pain is a reaction against something that needs to change. Not that we hadn't seen our share of roamers since coming north to Vermont a year ago, after the Great Fire leveled Boston and half of eastern Massachusetts. Since the sky blew off, every sunset has been spectacular, nothing any artist or photographer could ever hope to capture. He was all bundled up in canvas, canvas that was ripped and tattered like a sail that'd spent a week in a hurricane.
It was an automatic response by then, as natural and routine as guard duty or sleeping during the day. He was on his ass, resting, looking our way and trying to figure if it was worth the effort to make the climb. It was coming from the rubble that used to be Bradford Village, one of the suburbs of Burlington. Since Robbie and Sloane got ambushed -- it happened when we were escaping the Great Fire -- Tony, Pete, Charles, Mather, and I were the only males in our camp. Pete was our resident tech whiz -- he'd designed the hatchery, come up with the ventilation scheme that kept the temps down inside, even managed to hook up running water and plumbing.
Those gorgeous pinks and yellows were draining from the sky, leaving behind a cold, inky night loaded with stars.
He'd been trying to soft-pedal his gut feelings, but you could see he was deeply concerned.
He'd been correct on every issue since he took charge two years ago when the sky blew off, the crops started wilting, and the world's population started dying by the hundreds of millions. We were living in New York, then, all of us, living in style and with more than our fair share of creature comforts in an upper West Side neighborhood that only recently had been gentrified. I don't know if anyone anywhere ever really learned the answer to that question, not at the beginning, when the only effects were those amazing technicolor sunsets and that crazy shift in the jet-stream, or, later on, when political institutions and economies were disintegrating faster than global temperatures and the seas were rising. There was no big bang, no escalation of crisis, no state of alert, no Warsaw Pact troops marching across Germany, no Colonel Khadafy dropping a surprise on Israel -- just a sky the color of fresh blood the evening of July twenty-sixth. Maybe it was the test of something the Soviets had up their sleeves that our intelligence never picked up. When we did have to go outside, no matter how briefly, Mather made sure we wore sunglasses and painted ourselves with sunscreen, protection factor fifteen. It was September, the hottest September ever recorded by the National Weather Service, and no one any longer had any doubt what was happening.
After disposing of a gang of winos, we'd made our home in an abandoned subway tunnel near Park Street Station, which is almost directly under City Hall. Bodies strewn everywhere, smoldering or just plain rotting, every one of them guaranteed to be harboring enough disease to wipe us out a thousand times over.
His best guess was that it had something to do with intelligence, or lack thereof, and I imagine he was right.
If you closed your eyes, you could picture it as it might have been before the sky blew off: a charming little blue-collar village, where neighbor knew neighbor and treated him with proper Yankee respect, a place where the machinery of life hummed quietly along in a more-or-less well-greased fashion.
It was coming from across the Quannapowitt River, and as we got closer, we could see flickering shapes.
Unless some of their number were off somewhere in the shadows, this was going to be a milk run.
Since the sky blew off, the Quannapowitt had shrunk to a trickle, six inches deep at its deepest with no more power to drive a loom than water from a faucet.


That was the description of all the bands we'd seen, and it made sense they were like that. That rink -- surely no bigger than about 15 by 15, but an arena to a boy of five or six -- is where I learned to skate. I laughed myself almost silly at that, and my father, without complaint, closed his eyes again. I am delighted to be part of this discussion tonight, and I would like to thank the University of Rhode Island for inviting me. I thought of the Wright Brothers and the other pioneers of flight and how the risks they took and the innovations they made revolutionized their world. They are but a handful among the thousands of journals, Web sites, list servs, press releases and the like that we could encounter.
Many mainstream readers and viewers -- not to mention mass-media writers and editors -- are only now learning the differences between adult stems and embryonic stems, between therapeutic cloning and reproductive cloning -- never mind the implications of research.
For him, a man who might walk again if certain genetic work succeeds, it is not simply acceptable but morally imperative to use unfertilized eggs to grow stem cells.
These past few months, I have managed to worm my way into places where I technically don't belong in order to claim a front-row seat to history. By telling the stories of the researchers, I hope to bring the research to a wide and general audience. We don't like bugs, the ticks and mosquitoes especially, and anyway, we're drawn to the beach at Wallum Lake, which is just up the road. Every year the mountain laurel and pine claim more of the path, and this year was no exception, but there was still plenty of room -- more than sufficient, I informed Cal, for another good flying- saucer run this winter. The air seemed fresher as we continued, the light through the foliage stronger, and soon enough we'd reached the peak.
An inventory of our pockets disclosed sticks, pebbles, acorns, flowers, mushrooms and a bright yellow leaf, which Cal had selected for his mom. There's something for everyone, whether you like Bill Gates or Richard Stallman, or neither. Bragg's colleagues on the national staff had exchanged phone calls and e-mail messages, angered by comments from Mr. As OSCOM starts, the issues of interop betw content management tools is very hot in the open source world thanks to work by Paul Everitt and Gregor Rothfuss. Using my wingy-dingy new search engine, I found a great reference, a mini-article entitled Oh Lieberman, which should have been entitled Oy Lieberman. Sure the original author may toil at a money-losing labor-of-love long past the point where it has been proven not to be viable, but what about the people he or she is not hiring, the manual writers, testers, more programmers, a sales person, a marketing person perhaps, to work on ease of use and to keep the website current. So when you hear yourself complaining about software quality, think about how much money the developer of the product has to fully support it. They link to one press release from the Music Indistry (sic) News Network commending the governor for the veto. BTW, I wasn't thinking Google might have been holding back, I was thinking the newspapers were. Microsoft's developer program was kaput, everyone who was anyone wanted to develop for the Web, and that led them to Netscape and Sun, and away from Microsoft. Being in a dead software market is no fun, even when you haven't signed on with the dying platform vendor.
He's got a Web app that simulates a Gator client, and sends messages back to Gator asking for ads to display on certain sites.
Somehow MS has taught its people not to care about issues that are not related to success or failure of products.
I've noticed that it colors how I think about them, not in a positive way, and felt I should disclose that, since I write about them here on Scripting News. You can give the people in your charge a nice life, with a nice house and a nice job, or you can set them on fire, or put them in the pool and 'forget' to build a ladder. For some people it's not enough to set a baby on fire; they need to build an entire complex for setting babies on fire. Also criticized is the widespread habit of using meditation to get rid of (repress) the emotionally charged images flowing from the unconscious. I would like to see this insightfully expressed logic extended more often to the state of the oppressed struggling on every side and in all corners of the world.
The Indoa€“European root of the word a€?violenta€? is wei, which means vital force and one definition of the word God is a€?an immanent vital forcea€? (p.86).
The reader is encouraged to reflect on seemingly counter-intuitive statements, such as a€?violence is the human spirita€™s protest against the enforcement of more goodness than it can stomacha€? (p.92). This suggestion, although fundamentally right, may need more elaboration than this book provides, because the danger of infection by archetypal forces is high and not to be taken lightly. With reference to Barbara Hannah, Dallett devotes a segment of the book to a much needed review of what Active Imagination is and discriminates what it is not. We are informed on the front page that this book was written with contributions by The Rhino and by Dalletta€™s former patient Pat Britt. Dallett writes, a€?The Rhino has been the central figure in hundreds of Pata€™s dreams continuing still today. The alchemists believed that their work was to redeem God or the son of God, whom the alchemists imagined as a a€?fabulous being conforming to the nature of the primordial mothera€? (p.
We are encouraged to look at the place within ourselves where we remain a€?fundamentalista€?, where spirit is trapped in a literal, concrete enactment, physical illness or cherished convictions of the nature of reality. The cover photo of a rhinoceros with two small birds casually perched on its back leads us into a text full of insight into both interior and outer worlds. Only a profound understanding can put forth such subtle and complex ideas in such apparently plain talk. Britt had been so ill with bacterial endocarditis and kidney failure that she was expected to die in her early forties. However, if something is hard to do you should change your relationship with it, or let it go. We are suppressing the healthy masculinity of normally active children with Ritalin, either because the way we are living is driving our children crazy or because they do not conform to our expectations.
He arrived at dusk, and when no one answered his cries, he finally fell into a restless sleep in the dust and half-dead weeds along the front perimeter.
It didn't occur to me then, but somebody must have told him that canvas was about the best protection you could have when you were outside.
Night was always the best time to be on the move, whether it was a disposal operation or a raid on one of the few warehouses or stores that had anything left worth raiding. Found it beneath a crucifix on the altar of a burned-out Catholic church in Manchester, New Hampshire, when we were making our way north from Boston.
We were the brie-chablis crowd, the folks with the MBA's and the designer bathrooms who spent weekends on Cape Cod and February vacations in Aspen.
In the early days, when the presses still ran and the six o'clock news was still being broadcast, there was all sorts of talk that it had been the test of some new thermonuclear weapon -- more frightening and more secret than the Bomb, which had every true-blooded Yuppie doing flips back then. We got out of the city in June, before the real panic hit, and we headed up the Connecticut coast.
Eventually there was a run on sunscreen and finally supplies dried up, but Mather had been smart enough to buy cases of it before John Q. From a defensive perspective, the tunnel was a dream -- only one entrance, which we kept clear with occasional firefights.
Immediately Mather decided to head north, where, he said, we would have the best chance of establishing a camp.
You needed brains to build a camp, defend it, find a way to eat -- in our case, a small but successful fish hatchery, supplemented by freeze-dried and canned stuff we'd managed to hoard. The moon was three-quarters full and between that and the usual stunning array of stars we had no trouble keeping up a good clip. You could imagine being born in that village, growing up there, raising a family, walking your children down the aisle, bouncing your grandchildren on your knee, going to your grave a reasonably satisfied man. They were just beyond the bank of the river, roughly three hundred yards away, a band of people huddled in a circle on flat ground next to a burned-out but still standing barn. Sun and disease had taken their toll, a toll few of the very young or very old were able to pay. The noise was startling, but before anyone down there could react much, I emptied the shotgun in their direction eight times.
I suddenly had an old-fashioned thirst for an ice-cold beer, but there wasn't any beer any more.
General Hospital, is exploring a number of new medical treatments, including ones involving gene therapy. I was thinking about tonight's forum, and what I would say about the role and responsibilities of journalists in this new world we have all entered. My eye moved to the titles of the periodicals on the library shelves: Immunology Today, Gene Therapy, and Xenotransplantation, to name a few. At the risk of inferring that some issues deserve a higher standard of journalistic excellence than others, I believe that nothing in the news today is more important than the genetics revolution and biotechnology in general.
Today's intimacy of capitalism with genetics -- of IPOs with DNA -- has brought a new element, even to respected academic labs like the one in Boston.
I have that seat, but now comes the real challenge: getting inside the heads of the scientists. Cal insisted on taking the lead and, unlike our last walk, in April, he refused assistance getting past deadfalls. Only a cellar hole is left of the farmhouse, destroyed some thirty years ago in a fire of suspicious origin. I wanted to carry him or at least hold his hand; instead, I took a breath and was silent on the matter. We left the quarry and made our way back to the cart path through a stand of towering Balsam firs, unlike any other on Wolf Hill. To me it was the day I quit smoking, and also the day I checked into the hospital (when I wrote that post I didn't know for sure I'd have to go into the hospital, but I wasn't surprised when I did).
In my talk yesterday I said this was a species of software developer with a lot of power, a beast of the 80s, extinct this century.
Before that I told the story of how XML-RPC came to be, and how Eric Raymond liked it so much.
By making my position public about the equivalent issues in the weblog world, I will be joining with them in requesting that we put aside our differences (I'm not sure there are any) and establish a set of principles on how we build from here. Financiers invested, and gave back to the university so the next generation of technology entrepreneurs could be educated, nutured and launched." It wasn't clear that financiers invested in the companies started by the students, not in the work done at the universities. He met up with the proprietor of that site at a place in NYC called Alt.Coffee on Avenue A in Manhattan. How about a couple of tech support people (so they can take a vacation once in a while, it's a tough job).
When you buy a new computer you probably pay a few hundred dollars for software, most of it going to Microsoft. How much self-respect is there in paying nothing for software that leverages so much of your time? So even if you don't want to pay for the time-leverage software delivers, would you pay money to keep your money safe? Is it based on features, or any deep understanding of how the products work, or the economics of the market?
Hosting is a tricky business, as we found out, there are ISPs who now host MT sites that must somehow be included in their plans, yet there seems to be no mention of them in the FAQ. Here's how I like to look at it -- formats and protocols are tools, details; the important thing is functionality delivered to users.
In my men's groups we always knew which men were at greatest risk for another violent incident: those who maintained that their anger was an aberration they had now overcome with penance and good intentions. An overemphasis on decency and virtue not only darkens the personal and collective shadow, it unconsciously identifies with divine goodness and thereby falls into inflation and self-righteousness. These and other New Age maneuvers are enlisted in the service of propping up the happy persona that conceals the darker dimensions of conflictual psychic life. Yet Dallett goes farther: Psychiatric medication should only be used to contain severe symptoms, she argues, preferably in small doses and even then only temporarily. Most of the examples of violence in this book break forth from the uptight middle class, where swings are removed from parks to prevent lawsuits.
In Jungian thought, the Self, which is the psychological equivalent to the image of God, often breaks into consciousness violently. Active Imagination is not guided fantasy nor is it art, but, following Hannah, Dallett sees Active Imagination as a creative function. 28), an earthy, fabulous, night creature, like the Rhino, equally life threatening and life giving. We meet the rhino of the title as he first appears in the dreams of a gifted woman whom the author has known for more than 30 years, initially as her Jungian analyst. Rage, she says, is a natural instinctive response to a threat to the Self; violence is the human spirita€™s protest against the enforcement of more goodness than it can stand.
We knew about other parts of the country, where whole camps had been wiped out by typhus, diphtheria, all the diseases that had gone completely out of control since the sky blew off.
The only ones we'd disposed of were the ones that got too close or started acting too weird or hung around too long, like stray dogs begging for handouts.
She'd probably been pretty once, but the sun had left her skin runny and raw and made her hair fall out.
Pinks layered over blues and oranges and yellows, some soft strokes, some bold ones splashed up there with a powerful hand. He'd told me more than once that killing still turned his stomach, no matter how many times he saw it or did it.
At night, you didn't have to worry about whether the ultraviolet was going to burn the skin off your back or make you go blind or cook your brains or fry your sperm.
There wasn't a one of us who wasn't making fifty grand then, minimum, not a one of us who wasn't employed with one of Wall Street's or Madison Avenue's most reputable firms. There was still gas left, although there were shortages and growing lines at the stations, so we drove, charging up a storm on our American Express and Visa cards as we went.
From the survival point of view, it gave us decent access to stores and warehouses, particularly those mammoth ones along the waterfront, which were still stocked weeks after everything else ran out. We passed other bands as we walked, and we had some skirmishes, losing two of our original group in the process. It took brains to beat the sun, escape the heat, and it took brains to keep the germs at bay. I wanted to get in and out quickly; I had some business back with Lisa, who'd been my girlfriend in the West Side days, and who Mather had decided was still an acceptable mate for me. And the cars that were parked in the driveways were beginning to rust; every tire was flat, and roamers had busted the windshields. We'd have a devil of a time tracking them down, and some would probably slip away, and then there'd be hell to pay with Mather. The river wasn't cool, no rivers were any more, but it still felt refreshing around the ankles. Huddled at their feet in the dirt were a half dozen children, most younger than the kid who'd made it to our perimeter. What there was was hooch, which Mather had discovered you could make from canned peaches, dandelions, anything that had sugar in it, even bark from certain trees. Life-saving protocols already in clinical use have been pioneered in this lab, and I expect that more will follow. And this thought, hopefully not a trite one, occurred to me: The Wright Brothers transported people. It came this year at the customary time, when the sugar maples are at their peak and the oaks are only beginning to turn. Rusting machinery, barrels and bedframes are strewn about, and the woods are slowly claiming them, too. The quarry has not been worked since the 1800s, but if you look around town, you will see many foundations made of its imperfect granite.
That's all there is to it, except when you really want to get it you should let just a hint of an R back. Shortly after my reappearance, Seth Dillingham said something really nice and very memorable.
Apparently he went over his allotted time, I wanted to ask him to comment on the opportunities for open source projects to integrate with commercial software. I polished my skills as a user, and watched other people learn weblogs, saw what they got, and didn't.
Then I hazarded a guess that if Eric had dinner with Bob Atkinson, one of the co-designers of XML-RPC, that they'd agree on a lot, and probably enjoy each others' company, even though Bob is a senior guy at (you guessed it) Microsoft. I've tried to explain the issues in non-technical terms, yet of course as soon as words like APIs and XML appear a lot of ordinary people tune out. Some of them are great writers and have passion for the truth and aren't serving the same masters that the bigtimes at WSJ, NYT and CNN. It's about a 20-minute drive to the office, not as convenient as living in Cambridge, but very sweet.
If you pay nothing for software, you probably won't die from it, but you may lose data, you're virtually certain to waste time, and at some point, money. I have data that contradicts theirs, fairly superficial stuff -- why, on investigation didn't they uncover it?
If there are any busdev people I need to talk with at Google, I guess now's the time to do that.
In the light of this observation, the missionary and the terrorist stand revealed as brothers-in-arms.
Making a work of art, breaking a therapeutic impasse, or modifying a relationship are three of many possibilities for new forms of expression that liberate the archetypal power from remaining trapped a€?in mattera€? (in symptom or illness).
One can almost hear in popular a€?thinking positivea€? propaganda the voice of the family cheerleader castigating brothers and sisters for being so a€?depressinga€? as to discuss Dad's alcoholic violencea€”or on a national level, the violence inflicted by the precarious rule of empirea€”out in the open. Although the alarm should be raised about overmedicationa€”psychotropics are even being found in public water suppliesa€”I have known people with major psychiatric disorders for whom the advice to go off meds to do a€?psychological worka€? has been disastrous.
Dallett pleads us to acknowledge that the terrible in human life is real and that only by confronting it, by taking it by its horns, do we have a chance of not being controlled by it.
The Rhino represents an instinctual mercurial principle in psyche that holds the power to heal or to wound. The Rhino becomes an imaginal companion for Pat Britt and Dallett speculates that his a€?dependable presence may compensate the uncertainty of a life in which death is always at handa€? (p.33). We follow the patienta€™s devoted inner work with the dream rhino, as he emerges into a living imaginative reality: mentor, opposite and guide, and we learn of the healing of her life-threatening physical illness.
In Britta€™s initial dream, the dream that is thought to foretell the course of therapy, a small rhinoceros charges her, but she catches him by the horn and holds on. If you can let it speak to you, and give it what it needs you will have an inner partner for the life that remains to you, however long or short that may be.a€? (p. Royalties, in part, go to the International Rhino Foundation, which helps to preserve the rhinoceros from extinction. His body quivered a bit and then his mouth became a fountain of blood, but it didn't last long.
She was delirious, talking nonsense about salvation, redemption, apocalypse, all that other Bible crap, like so many of the roamers we'd seen since New York. Back when I was in parochial school, I remember thinking the walls of heaven must look that beautiful. Didn't have to take your chances bundled in a hundred layers of clothes and sunscreen coating your body like axle grease.


Perhaps the good father gave his final sermon, then put it to his head and squeezed off a round. That disposing of them might be a greater logistical problem than we'd had to deal with in a long, long time, maybe ever. The day the looting began in earnest, we grabbed enough canned juices and beef stew and hams for at least a year, according to Mather's calculations. He hadn't assigned Pete a woman, but he had occasional privileges, which he was always pleased to exercise. The trees that once had shaded back yard barbecues now were blighted, their leafless branches waving in the wind like the thin fingers of a skeleton.
Except for the wrinkles, they wore identical expressions: that peculiar hybrid of fright and exhaustion and malnutrition I'd seen on roamers before.
On my way out of the barn, I was lucky -- I found a five-gallon can of gas, and it was full.
It is one of several labs in New England where I have been hanging around over the last few months. Scientists today are on the verge of being able to DESIGN people -- and if not design them, then certainly change them in ways that can -- or should -- make their lives better and longer. Often lost in the reporting of stem-cell research, for example, is the fact that embryonic stem cells can grow uncontrollably into teratomas, or cancer. Imagine when the first scientist doesn't merely clone a baby, but custom-builds one by manipulating the germline.
The temperature at dawn read 29 or 30 degrees, depending on the angle the thermometer was viewed.
We went through the backyard and onto the cart path that ascends Wolf Hill, a fanciful name in the nineties, even for a rural town like ours.
We marveled together at a sight as strange as grape vines entwined around a bedframe, and I tried explaining how a house not unlike our own had been reduced to ruin, but I don't believe I succeeded, nor did I really try.
It resembles a den, and the forest floor is softly carpeted and often dotted with toadstools -- certainly a spot, I allowed, where elves dance under the starry sky. Also, reading the highway signs I kept seeing Oxford, which I wanted to write as a hex number: oXF08D.
And for sure, on May 31, 2002 I had chest pain, and was in denial on how sick I really was.
I asked other people for ideas of what made weblogs different from professional pubs and Wikis. They still are, but after SOAP and XML-RPC they could just as easily be running on a server farm. And most of them don't have websites, yet, largely because it is too complicated and expensive to have one. And if you pay $10 or $20 to use a piece of software, the software isn't paid for if the software isn't generating enough money to be fully supported or developed. Why don't a small number of users of the popular weblog tools work together to create an authoritative review of the category and show us how the products compare. It takes better pictures than the Nikon if I actually have it with me when I see something photo-worthy.
Unfortunately I don't have any money to pay them for this, but I'm afraid that's what they're going to want to talk about. I am thinking of people legitimately diagnosed with bipolar disorder who took similar advice from their gurus and ended up psychotic; one, a former student, is still homeless and ranting in the streets. As fantastic amounts of money continued to be funneled upward, the number of Americans living below the poverty line soars higher than ever before. There is a story about the late Edward Edinger in which someone asked him, a€?What is new in Jungian psychology?a€? He replied, a€?New? Then I am reminded of the story of Edinger and his comments about what is old and what is new in Jungian psychology. Instead she asks us to recognize violence as an intrinsic aspect of the collective psyche, one that must find expression and that does have a purpose as when a€?the Self often breaks into consciousness in ways that are violent, primitive, even monstrous. The unconscious is a minefield of devastating, destructive potentials, but without venturing, and at times suffering this minefield, there is no way of getting to the treasures. In Pat Britta€™s case, it was the spirit released from a life threatening illness that took the image of this large, gravelly voiced Rhino. Finally we see that this work gives the former patient her independence of analysis and analyst. In less than three minutes, long enough for a smoke, his nerves stopped firing and he was still. We didn't find a body, but maybe one of his parishioners had dragged it away for burial when that Mass was over. I have written a handful of pieces for The Journal, and over the next many months will write more.
And adult stem cells are notoriously difficult to isolate and direct, another fact that is sometimes overlooked.
Water has long filled where men once labored, of course, and a century's worth of sediment covers the bottom, making it impossible to gauge true depth (although we have tried, with our sticks). You can certainly feel good about giving the money, but you're probably not going to get what you want or think you deserve in the way of support or upgrades for that kind of money. I'm working on a taxonomy of weblogs for the two conferences I'm keynoting in the next two weeks.You can start there if you want but you probably don't need my help. I have also known people with schizophrenia who could never hold down jobs or attend school without some kind of long-term antipsychotic medication. People still dona€™t understand the old.a€? Author Dallett might heartily agree with this sentiment.
He speaks to our desperate post-modern world, saying we must turn away from our arrogance and learn again to live with the rhinos, the crocodiles, and all the natural, instinctive forms of life a€“ now, before they are gone, leaving us alone, alienated, and doomed to extinctiona€? (p.37). When Cal is a little older, I will tell him -- as I did his sisters -- spooky stories of the goings-on here when the moon is full.
That's what I liked the most about Ringo, he needed a little help from his friends, and he appreciated it too. If you have a pain inside your chest where your heart is, go to see a doctor now, don't think you can exercise your way out of the corner. In other words, I did something rather unlike a weblog to try to get to the core of what one is. And get this -- this isn't just for Radio users, we created an open system that anyone can ping. What's important in such cases is to prescribe a correct and accurate dosage not only to contain extreme symptoms but to make psychological work possiblea€”work that includes dealing with the psyche's responses to the need for medication. If the Self in such sufferers is enraged, social constraints and injustices give it excellent reason to be, for as Martin Luther King pointed out long ago, a riot [like a symptom] is the language of the unheard.
In her latest offering she reanimates many penetrating insights from Jung and reminds us that they are as cogent and urgent now as when Jung first presented them. In response to her dream, the woman took up the task of relating to the unconscious through art, dialogue with the rhinoceros and study of dreams.
But I know enough about chemistry to know that a chemical by itself may be poisonous but not poisonous when in a compound with other chemicals. Wearing gloves and masks, we carried him downhill, away from the hatchery, and put him ten feet under, as deep as we could dig in the two hours we had before the sun came up. There was only one way to know for sure, I said: Some fine summer night, we would have to camp out here, being careful to stay awake until midnight. The first hit took me to a guy about the right age, living in about the right place, but on further inspection I noted that (gullp) he died.
The remarkable dreams and healing experience of this dreamer make up one part of this rich book and serve to illustrate and put flesh on the abstract bones of some of C.G. Then we burned our clothes and bathed in rubbing alcohol and Lysol we'd come across on our last trip to the A&P warehouse.
A few nocturnal animals still survived, owls and raccoons among them, and their voices seemed to come from a hundred directions at once, or no direction at all. When we were done, we walked naked back inside the compound, pulling the razor wire tight behind us. Our April walk was during a nor'easter, and we got soaked playing in the waterfall, but it was gone now, too.
Rachel is in high school now, and Katy, four years younger, is sneaking looks at Seventeen. Since there's no year on it, it's impossible to know if it's the Mitchell Stern I knew as a kid. Cal was worried it would never return, but I reassured him it would, with the next steady downpour.
He'd been keen on mushrooms since our last swim at Wallum Lake, when he found ones as big as my hand that had materialized overnight beneath a picnic bench. He was tired, and as I carried him home, I promised we'd camp out next summer, bugs and all. But the growing data about the impact of a deep alignment of psyche and body reveals that we have merely scratched the surface of that mysterious intersection.
He also gathered acorns, which he proposed to feed to squirrels, a word he still had difficulty pronouncing.
A connection and engagement to the depths of the psyche that stimulates powerful healthy growth and that transforms body as well as psyche is unhappily still on the fringe of accepted consensus today, this in spite of what depth psychologists, in addition to Jung, have intimated or stated for over one hundred years.
Here I sit 4 hours by car from NY, if I want a good pizza, I have to go there, they don't make it here.
Think of all the bandwidth that's wasted by search engines looking for changes on pages that never change. But you should be aware that the story of Chicken Little is notA  a "fable character." While he did say "The sky is falling" quite a bit, this was only because he had difficulty making contact the his agent provocateur whose actual physical appearance had changed over the years. The video faculty includes Eric Hulsizer, a former Channel 8 cameramanA who photographed "Channel 8 On Your Side," and Lisa Inserra of Cox Media (the company that owns Valpack) who is active in producing television commercials for her company's clients.az?i»? In my program, I've studied drawing, camera operation, scripting, digital imaging, programming basics, copyright law, video editing, website design, sound production and editing. One of myA professors says the program is the best of its kind in the Tampa Bay area and I think he's right.az?i»?i»? Please, please, put the word out to others so that this fine program will be better known. It doesn't matter what your heritage is or whether you are still in high school or old enough for Medicare.
Petersburg Collede digital arts program is filled with both talented professors and students. In your story on stadium horns, you called them vuvuzwelas, what is that funny looking symbol after the photo credits. The image can be used freely, subject to some restrictive terms in the license, including crediting the photographer. It looks to me like he called on Curtis LeMay, Colonel Clearwater - and then realizing he had made a mistake - schluffed it into Colonel Kilgore. Here's a photo of American school children using the original Bellamy salute:A I think the photo speaks for itself. Colonel Clearwater Dear Colonel Clearwater: What do you think about the Egyptian revolution? Fundamentalists, in any religion, are usually a reaction to what the followers perceive as injustice. This doesn't mean Egyptian society and culture will necessarily change; it is still their culture and values. But in the long run any thing they make of it will be for their benefit (and not the benefit of the United States). Not by rampeling down the side of the building like Tom Cruise, but by sliding in with a tourist visa when it was not open to tourists.
Clearwater: Republicans are betting that your readers don't care - that after all you did to beat them in 2006 and 2008, you're going to sit this one out. So they're whipping up their base by blocking help to unemployed workers, blocking summer jobs for teens, apologizing to the big companies that gave us the spill in the Gulf, and doing anything else they can do to stop progress. Yes, that Rand Paul, who says freedom means a private business can discriminate against African-Americans, and that President Obama holding polluters accountable for the mess in the Gulf is "un-American." And he's not alone.
One candidate calls Social Security "horrible policy," while another has said that Americans will turn to "Second Amendment remedies" against Democrats.
In New Hampshire, Paul Hodes is running neck-and-neck with his Republican opponent to take this seat for the Democrats. We've just started to turn our country around, passing healthcare reform, working to hold the big banks accountable for the Wall Street meltdown, pushing legislation to address climate change and end our addiction to oil. The GOP is betting big that saying "no" and blocking progress is a path to success in November.What bet will you make? I think the Republicans should adopt as their emblem the condom because it more clearly reflects the party's political stance. A condom stands for inflation, halts production, destroys the next generation, protects a bunch of pricks, and gives one a sense of security while screwing others.
Colonel ClearwaterDear Colonel Clearwater, Last week, my friend and colleague, Congressman Anthony Weiner, did something very good, and very gutsy. Weiner's report showed that this firm, which sells gold coins, rips off its customers while benefiting directly from Beck's Chicken Little lunacy about the economy.
Every time Beck screams that there is an impending Obama-led government takeover of the economy and your savings aren't safe, he's making a sales pitch for this sleazy advertiser. You see, Beck's ratings have recently crashed, and most of his reputable advertisers have deserted him. Now that he's been exposed, Beck has spent the last week using his big media platform to attack and undermine Weiner - he even set up an attack website designed to damage Weiner's political standing. This collusion between big media, conservative commentators, and quack economics is a scam, but it is powerful if it remains unopposed. And we need to support people like Weiner, who have the guts to go after right-wing lunacy at the source.
Consider his statement: "I beg you, look for the words 'social justice' or 'economic justice' on your church Web site. That oil disaster must be stopped, and a way must be found."I am not the original author of that sensible thought, but it has been my favorite definition of faith for a while. While we have no way of certainty for moving past them, working to find a pathway that takes us beyond our doubts is the best option in my view. Then how come Congress starts each session with a prayer and the president is sworn in on a Bible? Wants to KnowDear Wants to Know, As I said in an earlier reply, our countrys laws and structure are not based on the God of the Bible and the Ten Commandments, as Sarah Palin and others claim. So most of us do not work on Sunday and some businesses are not open for business on Sunday. So we have a religious custom of not working on Sunday and a secular custom of watching football on Sunday. The Constitution states that the president must take an oath, but it does not mention anything about a Bible. Colonel ClearwaterDear Colonel Clearwater, I understand you answer, but you say customs and traditions. Wants to Know MoreDear Wants to Know More, It is important to realize the difference between a custom and a tradition. It is a custom at my house that every year we watch football on Thanksgiving Day after we eat. A tradition is a ceremony invented for the purpose of commemorating some historical event or to develop a sense of binding in a community or religious group.
Thanksgiving Day is a tradition in America that serves the purpose of reminding us of what we have from God for which to be thankful and is loosely based on the first harvest feast of the Pilgrims to celebrate their first year of survival in the New World.
It is a tradition; a ceremony we use to create a common bond among Americans by commemorating our heritage. When Congress meets, the first thing that happens is that the designated speaker calls the group together.
Colonel ClearwaterDear Colonel Clearwater, I have just seen a video about an organization called the Council on Foreign Relations.
This organization has members who were past Presidents and past Secretary of States of the United States, plus leaders in the fields of finance, industry, and other important positions in society. The spokesman on the video has concluded that this organization must be a part of world conspiracy to take over the world and put the entire world under a one-world socialist government and I agree with him.
The Council on Foreign Relations (CFR) is an organization of foreign policy experts, people concerned with international trade, prominent historians and writers, as well as others who are involved with foreign policy and international affairs. The CFR hold speaking events with question-and-answer periods which are usually televised on CSpan or other cable stations. The speakers are usually world leaders, historians, writers, or others involved in international affairs. Some of the speakers have included such figures as Nelson Mandela, George Soros, Thomas Friedman, Mikhail Gorbachev, and Ronald Reagan.
The journal, which I have subscribed to and read for over 25 years (plus you can buy it at the newsstands in Borders or Barnes and Noble) provides a forum for contrasting views and opinions regarding issues affecting foreign policy. Some people have made a nice living scarring others with conspiracy theories about the CFR.
My advice to you is to go to the store, buy and read their journal, watch their events on CSpan, and be wary of people who wish to sell you on the idea that other people are out to get you.
Colonel Clearwater________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________Dear Colonel Clearwater: Cancel my subscription to your liberal rage. And no matter how great the obstacles may seem, we must never stop our efforts to reduce the weapons of war.
We must never stop at all until we see the day when nuclear arms have been banished from the face of this earth." Ronald Wilson Reagan, 1984 Colonel ClearwaterDear Colonel Clearwater: Liberals? I realize that there is collateral damage in war, but this is no less than cold-blooded genocide. They were shooting at insurgents who, upon later investigation, turned out to be civilians.
By saying the soldiers were shooting civilans implies that they knew they were shooting civiliansj.
The real guilty party are those who convinced the American public that this war was necessary and just. Can you tell me how the "Smallest of the World's Leading Newspapers" managed to scoop "Florida's Best Newspaper?" Pedro TechadorDear Pedro, Always nice to hear from one of the Techadors.This was a WikiLeak scoop. Palin:Your statement reminds me of what Republican Congressman, Devin Nunes said during the health care vote. And now you are bringing the ghosts back into this chamber." There is no polite way to get around this.
Tea Party Patriots are morons when it comes to history, economics, and how to run a society. Much like the resurgence of the Ku Klux Klan after World War I, the Tea Party Patriots are people who believe they have lost their privileged status in American society and wish to thwart others hopes for the American dream. Unfortunately, or fortunately (depending on which editor yells loudest) President Obama considers Wall Street, the banks, the Republicans in congress, and those with tea party policies as necessary players in the solution when they are, in fact, part of the problem. Both the Senior Citizens' Right to Work Act and the Family Medical Leave Act were passed this way.




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