2 results for (book:ur1 AND session:680 AND stemmed:father)
In another system of reality your father was — in fact, still is — a well-known inventor, who never married but used his mechanically creative abilities to the fullest while avoiding emotional commitment. He met Stella (my mother). They were going to be married — and in terms of years, the same years are involved, historically. At one time, then, in your father’s past as you think of it, having met Stella, he did not marry her after all. His love was for machinery, the speed of motorcycles, mixing creativity with metal. At that point of intersection, equal desires and intents within him became like twin nuclei. Whole regroupings of energy occurred, psychological and psychic implosions, so that two equally valid personalities were aware in a world in which only one could live at a time.
I do know a deeper compassion for my parents now than I did when they were alive. To paraphrase a remark one of my brothers made recently, I miss them in ways I couldn’t have anticipated before their deaths. Each of them died at the age of 81 — my father in 1971, my mother in 1973. For those who are interested, I drew a likeness of my father for one of my pen-and-ink illustrations in Jane’s Dialogues, and incorporated an image of my mother in another one. See pages 89 and 137 of that book.
Your mother loved physical reality and took the greatest pleasure in its most minute aspects, for all of her complaints. Your father loved it but never trusted it. Each of your parents had their strongest reality, this time, and in your terms, in a probable system of reality — and here (in this reality) they were offshoots. To them this system always seemed strange.2
By far, the creative, mechanically inventive personality began to outstrip the other. The father that you knew was the probable self, therefore. That probable self, however, dealt with emotional realities that the other avoided, and this was indeed his sole intent.
Your father’s creativity, as mentioned [in earlier, unpublished sessions] had its side of secrecy, privacy and aloneness … you identified creatively with his private nature. [...] You believed the painting self had to be protected … as you felt that your father had to protect his creative self in the household …
Give us a moment … Your father’s inventiveness would also be used in the same manner, as source material, by whichever self you chose to become. [...]