MEMOIR LOGO CONCEPT: The aleph and a Sufi mystic inspired my creation and design of the syzygy logo, which I initially based on the symbolism of the yin and yang.



But the concept expanded when I first saw the aleph in Judith Cornell’s    
Mandala Healing Kit, My inexplicable attraction to it led me to incorporate it into my logo before I knew what it meant. 

I later read that the “Aleph (the first letter of the sacred Hebrew alphabet) embodies the primordial, divine potential of the universe. ... Aleph contains all the universe’s potential and all of its emptiness   simultaneously. Aleph represents a dynamic process of movement from unity to diversity and back to unity,” Jennifer Judelsohn, Songs of Creation.

And the  mystic poet Rumi inspired me to use the fire and water concept after I read The  Question.  Here is an excerpt:  

“The presence is there in front of me. A fire on the left, a lovely stream on the right.

One group walks toward the fire, into the fire. Another toward the sweet flowing water.

No one knows which are blessed and which are not.

Whoever walks into the fire appears suddenly in the stream. 

A head goes under water, and that head pokes out of the fire.”

LOGO ART: Cropped fire and water images from Free Images

LOTUS LOGO: In spiritual and religious literature, “the lotus is a symbol for the macrocosm and the microcosm, the universe and man. The lotus represents the divinity of the cosmos as well as the divinity of man. 





The lotus is the center of the infinite, omnipresent consciousness which connects with the consciousness of the universe. Through the intuition, one of man’s divine gifts, the spiritual student can see the infinite, omnipresent consciousness as the lotus flower within himself.” 

LOTUS ART: Courtesy 
Homestead, my website service provider. (Temporary art while I design of my own lotus logo.)


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THE MEMOIR
CROSSING THE BRIDGE TO SELF
THE JOURNEY
The pen is mightier than the sword and, for the most part (not saying I never threw an ashtray), I have found it therapeutic to write (rather than punch walls or people) when I’m upset or hurt, especially if I’m beside myself with anger. Sometimes I write to vent— even if I think I’m wrong—and then I shred it, usually. 

I have wanted to be a writer since I was a child, a point of ridicule for my parents at times, and a pointless goal to others, who said there’s no money in that. You need a trade. But I was a romantic. I had a higher purpose. From my childhood diaries to my secret journals in my teens, from my lengthy, analytical letters of atonement and blame to heal rifts between friends and family in my 20s to filling notebooks with secret shorthand writing (thank you, high school teacher Ms. Faulkner, but I can’t decipher them now), from my college term papers in my 30s to my memoir, which I didn’t actually begin to write until I was in my 40s (although I was the title character in the first short story 
Like dreams, memoir writing opens window to soul   
“A book of mine is always a matter of fate. There is something unpredictable about the process of writing, and I cannot prescribe for myself any predetermined course. Thus this ‘autobiography’ is now taking a direction quite different from what I had imagined at the beginning. It has become a necessity to write down my early memories. If I neglect to do so for a single day, unpleasant physical symptoms immediately follow. As soon as I set to work they vanish and my head feels perfectly clear.”

My dad feared my story, refused to read it 
My mom and my dad both died before I published my memoir or this website so they have yet to read the story that would not be possible without them. When I was a child, I hated my dad. Now, my mother, she could do no wrong. She was the martyr, my saint—except for on those occasions when she insisted I was just like my father, and that really pissed me off. 

But I could not seem to convince my dad that it was the very process of writing my memoir—that is, the unexpected gift of self-reflection and self-analysis—that made me realize I am just like him, and that the characteristics I hated about him most were actually projections of my own anger, greed, and selfishness.  I had hoped he would see that through my process of Self-discovery, I eventually realized that he was not the bad guy. He was a remarkable man, especially considering what little he had to work with. But when I offered him my first drafts to read, he refused.

Through my process, I also realized that my dad and I chose to come into this life together, and that we had a contract to fulfill, and that the circumstances need not be personalized. But I may have realized it too late. My dad and I had a terrible argument five months before he died, an argument which will be a web page for another day. But now to this day I wonder: “Did we fulfill our contract? It seemed we had come so far, only to end where we had begun.”

I hope my dad will come to me in a dream and give me the assurance I desire. If and when he does, I will ask him why he locked me out of my brother’s house that day, a few months after he died. My brother  said it was absolutely impossible for the sliding glass door lock to latch behind me accidentally, which only confirmed for me that it was my dad who locked me out. But it also confirmed for me that even after his death, my father was still troubled and angry, which further confirms for me that we do not die—our spirits do not die, our energy, whether positive or negative, does not turn to ashes—just our bodies.

C. G. Jung, Memories, Reflections, Dreams
I remember writing, “Little Ann Marie, She Has No In-Between,” written while her first taste of beer and nicotine were fresh on her breath—there I go in the third person again). 

As I was saying, for me writing is like talking to a good friend, someone you can tell all your secrets to without being judged, someone who won’t tell a soul—unless you publish it yourself for the whole world to read. LOL. Now in my 50s, as I write this copy (and all the copy on this website) and try to fill in the blanks in my memoir (a task that requires painstaking self-reflection and self-analysis),  I have to stop, upon review of my own memoir, and ask, “What was I thinking?!?” 

Considering all the writing I have done in the past year to build this website—and amazed at how much I have learned in the process—I realize that writing is far more than therapeutic for me: It is a downright essential tool in my process of individuation. 

♂ ♀

© 1955–2015 Syzygy: Crossing the Bridge to Self. All Rights Reserved.


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Jung believed everyone has a story to tell. But if you are blocked from telling it, a door slams in your face, and the unfortunate stage is set for a neurosis. According to an account by Victor Daniels, a psychology professor for more than 40 years, it occurred to Jung while working at an asylum, that “when derangement occurs, whether major or minor, it is because their personal story has been denied or rejected. Healing and integration come when the person discovers or rediscovers his or her own personal story.”