WEBVTT

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Jim Conrad: Welcome to Conovision.

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I'm your host, Jim "Cono" Conrad.

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On episode 10, we tell stories about
the dark side, the dark side of the

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moon, as metaphor for the shadow side
of the human psyche, the human soul.

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What demons lurk, what fears lie submerged
in the Mariana Trench of our mind.

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We will hear the poems and prose of
two literary gods, William Butler

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Yeats and Cormac McCarthy, and their
revelations from the Shadowlands.

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But first, a story about the tragic
sense of life, the tragic vision,

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as so presciently illuminated in
mythology by the ancient Greek

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playwrights and philosophers, and
why it matters so much to us now.

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The word tragic, like myth, has been
somewhat debased in our modern times.

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It has come to mean something
calamitous, something horrible as when

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a television talking head intones,
tragedy tonight on the Westside freeway.

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The ancient Greeks did
have a word for that.

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It is catastrophe, but we do
have much to learn about who we

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really are from recalling what our
ancestors intuited 26 centuries ago.

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Their imaginative rendering of
the human dilemma, the dialectical

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play of fate, destiny, character,
and choice still remains the best

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paradigm for how life's permutations
play out on this finite plane.

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Our predecessors discerned that we
often intend a certain outcome, work

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diligently towards its achievement, and
yet wind up in an entirely different

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place than expected in our lives.

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And most disturbingly, this altered
course derives in substantial

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measure from the choices that a
presumably conscious being made.

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How could this be that we
could be our own enemy?

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The ancient Greeks understood that
there were forces in the cosmos to

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which even the gods were subject.

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Those Greek gods being Aphrodite, the
goddess of love, sex, and beauty, Athena,

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the goddess of reason, wisdom, and war.

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Artemis was the fleet
footed goddess of the hunt.

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Aries was the god of Bloodlust.

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Apollo, who was the twin brother
of Artemis, was among the most

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important and feared of the gods.

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Son of Zeus, he disseminated the
will of his divine compatriots

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through various means.

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Notably, Oracles.

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The Oracle of Delphi was his mouthpiece.

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Demeter, an agricultural goddess
was mother to Persephone, who

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was abducted by the underworld
god, Hades, to be his bride.

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Dionysus was a son of Zeus
born to a mortal mother.

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The cult of Dionysus revolved
around intoxication, sex,

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and savage ritual sacrifice.

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As mentioned, Hades ruled
the world of the dead.

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Hera, the queen goddess of Olympus,
was both sister and wife to Zeus.

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Though she is often depicted as reserved
and austere, she was mercilessly

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vindictive when it came to her
husband's many extramarital adventures.

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Like many gods in the Greek pantheon,
Hermes presided over multiple spheres.

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He was a pastoral figure, responsible
for protecting livestock, but was

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also associated with fertility,
music, luck and deception.

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Poseidon is best known
as the Greek sea god.

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But he was also the god of horses
and of earthquakes and had some

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seriously strange children.

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Though humanoid, he fathered
both the winged horse Pegasus, by

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Medusa no less, and the cyclops,
Polyphemus, who is blinded by

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Odysseus and his crew in the Odyssey.

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And finally, with the assistance of Hades
and Poseidon, Zeus overthrew his father

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Cronus, king of the Titans and became the
chief deity in a new pantheon, comprising

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mostly of his siblings and children.

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The forces of the universe to
which these gods were subject were

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named Moirai, or Fate, sophrosyne.

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Or what goes around comes around.

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Diking for justice, nemesis, or
consequential retribution, and destiny.

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These forces might be translated by
us today as the organizing balancing

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structuring powers of the cosmo.

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A word itself, which means order.

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When we are ignorant of these forces
at work, as frequently we will be,

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we most likely will make choices that
run counter to the principles and

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energies of our own deepest nature.

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Moreover, our ancestors believed
that we often offend the gods.

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That is, violate the energetic
designs of which they are the

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dramatized personifications.

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Thus, a wound to Aphrodite will show
up in one's intimate relationships,

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or one possessed by Aries will
act out of unreasoned anger.

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With all its attendant consequences.

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Accordingly, the ancient Greeks believe
that by reading the texture of one's life,

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one can identify the ignored or repressed
archetypal powers, the gods offended,

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and offer homage and compensation
to them to restore the balance.

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Add to this mix, our predecessors
acknowledge the role of individual

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character, which repeatedly plays a
role in the creation of our choices

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and patterns, what they called hubris,
often translated as pride, might

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more pragmatically be defined as
our tendency toward self-deception.

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Especially the delusion that we are
in possession of all the facts when we

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make decisions, what they called the
hamartia, sometimes translated as the

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tragic flaw or the wounded vision, the
inherent biasing of our choices as a

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result of our own psychological history.

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Our tendency toward wrong choice
or unintended consequences is

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fueled by these two liabilities.

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The first is our temptation to
believe what we wish to believe,

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the assumption that we know all we
need to know about ourselves and

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the situation to make wise choices.

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In fact, seldom do we know enough
even to know we do not know enough.

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Moreover, there is a second element here,
namely the biasing of our vision by the

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profound influence of our personal and
cultural histories, our experience subtly,

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alters, even distorts the lens through
which we see the world and the choices

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we make are based on that altered vision.

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At birth, each of us is handed a
lens by our family of origin and our

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culture through which to see the world.

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As it is the only lens we have
ever known, we will presume we see

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reality directly, even as we are
seeing it colored and distorted.

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How could we ever choose wisely when our
information is biased, even inaccurate.

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Only the corrections of others or
the corrections from our violated

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psyche may oblige us to consider
that our fundamental way of seeing

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and understanding is suspect.

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From this encounter with our limitations,
the wisdom of humility comes to know that

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we do not even know what we do not know.

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And that what we do not know will
often make the choices for us.

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Our lives begin and end with loss.

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We lose the safest, least demanding
place we will ever inhabit with all our

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needs met and are forcefully extracted
into a world of peril and contingency.

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And we end our journey with
the loss of our mortal state.

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Natural as it is to seek to hang on the
inevitability of loss rather asks that

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we treasure what we have appreciated
for its precious, momentary presence in

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our lives and know that its gift to us
is found precisely in its impermanence.

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What would be ours in
perpetuity is less treasured.

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What is fleetingly here is most dear.

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The Greek myth of immortal Tithonus
relates how he found his life

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meaningless because of his immortality.

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Every choice this hour could be reversed
in another, and so he petitioned the

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gods to grant him mortality so that
his life through his now risky choices

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could be experienced as meaningful.

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The god's blessed Tithonus.

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We live today in the age of anxiety.

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We would rather be ruined than changed.

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We would rather die in our dread
than climb the cross of the

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present and let our illusions die.

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This excerpt from WH Auden's poem,
The Age of Anxiety, captures the

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existential angst of being human.

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At the turn of the last century,
Sigmund Freud published a book titled

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Psychopathology of Everyday Life,
where he noted that one does not

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have to visit a mental asylum in
order to observe psychopathology.

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One can observe the machinations
of the divided soul in the

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mechanics of ordinary life.

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In his book, Freud detailed the
implicit motives walled off from

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consciousness that interfere with the
ego's choices, and behaviors producing

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namesake slips, forgetfulness, and
camouflaging of dangerous feelings

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through acceptable disguises.

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Freud, along with Carl Gustav Jung
helped our age find a new vocabulary.

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Observed meaningful motives in the
confounding of consciousness and in

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short helped us become psychological.

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Now, in this new century, we are
driven to psychological inquiry.

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In large part because our social and
religious institutions, as well as

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our great educational, technological,
scientific, artistic, and humanistic

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accomplishments have failed to prevent the
slaughter and madness of the 20th century.

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The great Crystal Palace in London,
which in 1851 housed the first

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international celebration of the newly
divine trinity of progress machinery

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and materialism was by the next century
a glass and steel Hulk used by the

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Nazi Luftwaffe as a navigational point
on their bombing runs over London.

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It seems that not only minor interferences
of consciousness, but madness itself,

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lurks beneath the veneer of civilization.

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How else can we look at a
world where we are bombarded by

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sensations, driven by addictions,
medicated beyond accountability,

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agitated into constant motion, and
further from ourselves than ever.

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Unless we begin to look psychologically,
unless we begin to consider,

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there may be a deeper meaning.

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After all,

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Carl Gustav Jung added the thought
that the spiritually charged images

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that once linked humanity to nature
and to the gods had eroded with the

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waning powers of tribal mythologies
and sanctified institutions.

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If points of spiritual reference
had disappeared for most, the modern

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sensibility had to look within in
order to find the place where those

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collective images were generated.

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Jung wrote, we think we can congratulate
ourselves on having already reached

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such a pinnacle of clarity, imagining
that we have left all these phantasmal

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gods far behind, but what we have
left behind are only verbal specters.

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Not the psychic facts that were
responsible for the birth of the gods.

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We are still as much possessed
today by autonomous psychic

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contents as if they were Olympians.

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Today they are called
phobias and obsessions.

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In a word, neurotic symptoms.

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The gods have become diseases.

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Zeus no longer rules Olympus, but
rather the solar plexus and produces

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curious specimens for the doctor's
consulting room, or disorders,

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the brains of politicians and
journalists who unwittingly let

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loose psychic epidemics on the world.

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The implications of Jung's
observations reverberate through

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our culture and our personal lives.

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In examining that seeming oxymoron, that
a god, an eternal one may die, he explains

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that the name attached to a form may
fade, but the energy behind it has only

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been transformed and reappears elsewhere.

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Where did the gods go then?

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The primal energies that gave rise to
the ancient gods have not gone away.

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They have gone underground and
become unconscious, have a spectral

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influence, even greater than
when they were embodied as gods.

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The spiritual powers that the gods
embodied, the invisible world made

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visible for a while, fall back
into the human psyche, and oblige

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humankind to suffer separation
alienation and estrangement from them.

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The most recent millennia began
with so much hope for progress, for

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healing, for the solution of the
ancient scourges of mankind, became

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the bloodiest in all of history.

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The neuroses of individual politicians
embodied and channeled the unconscious

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dynamics of the populace and led to
more murderous possession than that

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ascribed to Satan during the Middle Ages.

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The distractions and enticements of
popular media, newspapers, magazines,

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film, and most of all social media and
television, delivered much information,

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but in a deadly mix of popular fantasy,
collective projections, wishful

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thinking, obscure motives, and shadowy
agendas that only dazzled intelligence.

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What fills this existential void?

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This meaning gap?

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this time between the gods who have
vanished and the gods not yet arrived,

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is the stuff of our daily life.

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Where our ancestors had living
mythologies, we believe that

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we have transcended such a need
and therefore stand naked and

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vulnerable before the raw, sometimes
destructive powers of our nature.

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Our hubristic belief that we are
in control of ourselves and nature

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only makes us more unconscious
of what is at work within us.

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Our ancestors could seek the relief of
their personal and tribal problems by

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asking which god had been offended, and
then offering propitiation to reestablish

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right relationship with that god.

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To say that one has been offended by
Aphrodite today would be thought mad.

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And what about the culture of sensation?

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We are wrapped around by pop culture.

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News that runs 24 hours creates info
junkies, local newscasts find the

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glorious accident, the most salacious
scandal, the most paranoia, stirring

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threats to public health, to serve up
for breakfast, for dinner, and to send

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us toward turbulent slumber at bedtime.

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Transient non-entities are catapulted
to fame, followed by cameras

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throughout the course of their
ordinary days, and described with hyped

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banalities of the unexamined life.

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Romances, survival contests,
sensationalized disease reports, corporate

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greed, political greed, all feed the
ever increasing lust for sensation.

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Apparently, where one has no personal
life, no depth of character, one

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must have an artificial life, an
avatar with someone else's values.

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A life or a culture based on
sensation has no choice but to

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continually escalate the sensations.

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For we quickly grow desensitized
to their incessant drumbeat

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and their failed promise.

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A modern Dante descent into hell.

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Might be defined as taking a good thing,
asking way too much of it, exhausting

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it, and then being left with only it.

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Beware The Ides of March is a famous
warning from William Shakespeare's play,

00:18:24.120 --> 00:18:30.010
Julius Caeser spoken by a soothsayer to
Caesar foretelling his assassination.

00:18:30.370 --> 00:18:35.590
The phrase symbolizes a foreshadowing
of tragedy and a fatal arrogance,

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as Caesar dismisses the warning
as the words of a dreamer.

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And finally, a friend in recovery
once told me that when he was

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drinking, he always had this
strange feeling of impending doom.

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And then when he got sober,
he realized what it was.

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I asked him, what was it?

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And he replied, impending doom.

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Recall the words of Cassius from
Shakespeare's Julius Caesar.

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Men at some time are
masters of their fates.

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The fault dear Brutus, is not
in our stars, but in ourselves

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that we are underlings.

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The Second Coming by William Butler Yeats.

00:19:51.645 --> 00:19:58.285
Turning and turning in the widening gyre,
the falcon cannot hear the falconer.

00:19:59.605 --> 00:20:01.615
Things fall apart.

00:20:02.065 --> 00:20:04.525
The center cannot hold.

00:20:05.545 --> 00:20:08.995
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world.

00:20:09.895 --> 00:20:16.435
The blood dimmed tide is loosed,
and everywhere the ceremony

00:20:16.465 --> 00:20:19.645
of innocence is drowned.

00:20:20.755 --> 00:20:23.460
The best lack all convictions.

00:20:23.879 --> 00:20:28.770
While the worst are full
of passionate intensity.

00:20:38.820 --> 00:20:42.420
Surely some revelation is at hand.

00:20:43.170 --> 00:20:47.790
Surely the second coming is at hand.

00:20:48.090 --> 00:20:49.830
The second coming.

00:20:51.000 --> 00:20:55.470
Hardly are those words out when
a vast image out of spiritus

00:20:55.470 --> 00:20:58.169
mundi troubles my sight.

00:20:59.429 --> 00:21:06.940
Somewhere in sands of the desert, a
shape with lion body and the head of

00:21:06.940 --> 00:21:16.810
a man, a gaze blank and pitiless as
the sun, is moving its slow thighs.

00:21:17.380 --> 00:21:21.970
While all about it, real shadows
of the indignant desert birds,

00:21:23.410 --> 00:21:26.140
the darkness drops again.

00:21:27.400 --> 00:21:36.040
But now I know that 20th centuries
of stony sleep were vexed to

00:21:36.040 --> 00:21:38.590
nightmare by a rocking cradle.

00:21:39.250 --> 00:21:46.420
And what rough beast, its hour
come round at last, slouches

00:21:46.630 --> 00:21:50.950
towards Bethlehem to be born.

00:22:07.740 --> 00:22:08.590
They road on

00:22:11.665 --> 00:22:15.835
and the sun and the east flushed
pale streaks of light, and

00:22:15.835 --> 00:22:17.245
then a deeper run of color.

00:22:18.360 --> 00:22:24.360
Like blood seeping up in sudden
reaches, flaring plane wise, and

00:22:24.360 --> 00:22:29.160
where the earth drained up into the
sky at the edge of creation, the

00:22:29.160 --> 00:22:32.250
top of the sun rose out of nothing.

00:22:33.270 --> 00:22:41.640
Like the head of a great red phallus until
it cleared the unseen rim and sat squat

00:22:41.910 --> 00:22:44.400
and pulsing and malevolent behind them.

00:22:47.160 --> 00:22:52.620
The shadows of the smallest stones
lay like pencil lines across the sand

00:22:53.100 --> 00:22:56.880
and the shapes of the men and their
mounts advanced elongate before them,

00:22:56.880 --> 00:23:01.290
like strands of the night from which
they'd ridden, like tentacles to bind

00:23:01.290 --> 00:23:03.360
them to the darkness yet to come.

00:23:04.560 --> 00:23:09.930
They rode on with their heads
down, faceless under their hats

00:23:10.200 --> 00:23:12.270
like an army asleep on the march.

00:23:12.930 --> 00:23:17.350
By mid-morning, another man had died
and they lifted him from the wagon where

00:23:17.350 --> 00:23:22.410
he'd stay in the sacks he'd laid among
and buried him also, then they rode on.

00:23:24.750 --> 00:23:30.749
Now wolves had come to follow them,
great pale lobos with yellow eyes that

00:23:30.750 --> 00:23:35.400
trotted neat of foot were squatted
in the shimmering heat to watch them

00:23:35.400 --> 00:23:37.020
where they made their noon halt.

00:23:38.060 --> 00:23:43.669
Moving on again, loping, sidling, ambling
with their long noses to the ground.

00:23:43.909 --> 00:23:47.060
In the evening, their eyes
shifted and winked out there

00:23:47.060 --> 00:23:48.620
on the edge of the firelight.

00:23:49.370 --> 00:23:53.719
And in the morning when the riders
rode out in the cool dark, they

00:23:53.719 --> 00:23:57.830
could hear the snarling and pop of
their mouths behind them as they

00:23:57.939 --> 00:23:59.659
sacked the camp from meat scraps.

00:24:00.620 --> 00:24:06.889
The wagons drew so dry, they slouched from
side to side like dogs, and the sand was.

00:24:07.100 --> 00:24:12.949
Grinding them away, the wheels shrank,
and the spokes reeled in their hubs

00:24:12.949 --> 00:24:15.020
and plattered like loom shafts.

00:24:15.199 --> 00:24:19.639
And at night they drive false spokes
into the mortises and tie them down

00:24:19.639 --> 00:24:24.020
with strips of green hide and they
drive wedges between the iron of the

00:24:24.020 --> 00:24:26.719
tires and the sun cracked fellows.

00:24:27.050 --> 00:24:28.280
They wobbled on.

00:24:28.550 --> 00:24:34.250
The trace of their untrue laborers
like side winder tracks in the sand.

00:24:34.280 --> 00:24:37.100
The duledge pegs worked
loose and dropped behind.

00:24:37.429 --> 00:24:39.080
Wheels began to break up.

00:24:40.580 --> 00:24:43.310
10 days out with four men dead.

00:24:43.669 --> 00:24:49.669
They started across a plane of pure
pumice where there grew no shrub,

00:24:49.760 --> 00:24:52.730
no weed as far as the eye could see.

00:24:53.480 --> 00:24:57.560
The captain called the halt and he called
up the Mexican who served as guide.

00:24:57.889 --> 00:25:01.129
They talked and the Mexican gestured
and the captain gestured, and

00:25:01.129 --> 00:25:02.990
after a while they moved on again.

00:25:03.590 --> 00:25:08.689
A man from the ranks said, this looks
like the higher road to hell to me.

00:25:10.399 --> 00:25:14.570
In two days, they began to come
upon bones and cast off apparel.

00:25:14.750 --> 00:25:19.340
They saw half buried skeletons of
mules with the bones so wiped and

00:25:19.340 --> 00:25:24.230
polished they seemed incandescent
even in that blazing heat.

00:25:25.159 --> 00:25:29.929
And they saw panniers and pack
saddles and the bones of men, and

00:25:29.929 --> 00:25:35.120
they saw a mule and tire that dried
and blackened carcass hard as iron.

00:25:37.020 --> 00:25:37.939
They rode on.

00:25:39.230 --> 00:25:45.500
The white noon saw them through the
waste like a ghost army, so pale

00:25:45.500 --> 00:25:50.149
they were with dust, like shades
of figures erased upon a board.

00:25:51.500 --> 00:25:55.070
The wolves loped paler yet and
grouped and skittered and lifted

00:25:55.070 --> 00:25:56.870
their leans snouts on the air.

00:25:57.919 --> 00:26:03.800
At night, the horses were fed by hand from
sacks of meal and watered from buckets.

00:26:04.095 --> 00:26:05.775
There was no more sickness.

00:26:06.735 --> 00:26:12.285
The survivors lay quietly in that
cratered void and watch the white

00:26:12.285 --> 00:26:15.495
hot stars go rifling down the dark.

00:26:16.515 --> 00:26:23.325
Or slept with their alien hearts beating
in the sand like pilgrims exhausted upon

00:26:23.355 --> 00:26:29.145
the face of the planet Anareta clutched
to a namelessness wheeling in the night.

00:26:31.395 --> 00:26:32.265
They moved on.

00:26:33.225 --> 00:26:33.465
And they.

00:26:33.855 --> 00:26:34.875
Iron of a wagon.

00:26:34.875 --> 00:26:37.925
Tires group polished brightest
chrome in the pumice.

00:26:38.835 --> 00:26:43.995
To the south the blue cordilleras
stood footed in their paler image

00:26:43.995 --> 00:26:48.195
on the sand, like reflections in a
lake and there were no wolves now.

00:26:48.195 --> 00:26:54.720
They took to rioting by night, silent
jornadas saved for the trembling of the

00:26:54.720 --> 00:26:56.940
wagons and the wheeze of the animals.

00:26:58.020 --> 00:27:04.440
Under the moonlight a strange party
of elders with the white dust thick

00:27:04.440 --> 00:27:06.540
on their mustaches and their eyebrows.

00:27:08.160 --> 00:27:09.060
They rode on.

00:27:10.425 --> 00:27:15.480
And the stars jostled and arced
across the firmament and died

00:27:15.480 --> 00:27:17.640
beyond the ink black mountains.

00:27:18.570 --> 00:27:20.940
They came to know the night skies well.

00:27:21.870 --> 00:27:26.250
Western skies that read more
geometric constructions than

00:27:26.250 --> 00:27:28.860
those names given by the ancients.

00:27:29.880 --> 00:27:31.590
Tethered to the pole star.

00:27:32.070 --> 00:27:36.690
They rode the Dipper round while
Orion rose in the southwest

00:27:36.930 --> 00:27:38.940
like a great electric kite.

00:27:40.410 --> 00:27:46.230
The sand laid blue in the moonlight and
the iron tires of the wagons rolled among

00:27:46.230 --> 00:27:50.880
the shapes of the riders in gleaming
hoops that veered and wheeled woundedly

00:27:50.880 --> 00:27:57.150
and vaguely navigational like slender
astrolabes, and the polished shoes of

00:27:57.150 --> 00:28:02.520
the horses kept hasping up like a myriad
of eyes winking across the desert floor.

00:28:04.050 --> 00:28:08.070
They watched storms out there so
distant they could not be heard.

00:28:09.420 --> 00:28:14.130
The silent lightning flaring
sheetwise and the thin black spine

00:28:14.130 --> 00:28:17.610
of the mountain chain fluttering
and sucked away again in the dark.

00:28:18.150 --> 00:28:23.040
They saw wild horses racing on a plane,
pounding their shadows down the night and

00:28:23.040 --> 00:28:29.160
leaving in the moonlight of vaporous dust,
like the palest stain of their passing.

00:28:30.210 --> 00:28:36.750
All night, the wind blew and the fine
dust set their teeth on edge, sand

00:28:37.230 --> 00:28:39.990
in everything, grit in all they ate.

00:28:40.800 --> 00:28:46.710
In the morning a urine colored sun
rose blearly through panes of dust

00:28:46.710 --> 00:28:49.200
in a dim world and without feature.

00:28:50.010 --> 00:28:51.900
The animals were failing.

00:28:53.160 --> 00:28:58.620
They halted and made a dry camp without
wood or water, and the wretched ponies

00:28:58.710 --> 00:29:00.900
huddled and whimpered like dogs.

00:29:02.130 --> 00:29:08.460
That night, they rode through a region
electric and wild, where strange

00:29:08.460 --> 00:29:13.140
shapes of soft blue fire ran over the
metal of the horse's trappings and

00:29:13.140 --> 00:29:17.910
the wagon wheels rolled in hoops of
fire and little shapes of pale blue

00:29:17.910 --> 00:29:22.260
light came to perch in the ears of the
horses and in the beards of the men.

00:29:23.010 --> 00:29:26.910
All night sheet, lightning quaked
sourceless of the west, beyond the

00:29:26.910 --> 00:29:30.870
midnight thunderheads, making a
bluish day of the distant desert,

00:29:31.080 --> 00:29:35.850
the mountains on the southern skyline
stark and black and livid, like a land

00:29:35.850 --> 00:29:42.030
of some other order out there whose
true geology was not stone but fear.

00:29:44.250 --> 00:29:47.400
The thunder moved up from the
southwest and lightning lit

00:29:47.400 --> 00:29:48.690
that does it all about them.

00:29:49.080 --> 00:29:50.430
Blue and barren.

00:29:50.880 --> 00:29:55.620
Great clanging reaches ordered out
of the absolute night like some demon

00:29:55.680 --> 00:30:02.190
kingdom summoned up or changeling
land that come the day would leave

00:30:02.190 --> 00:30:13.410
them neither trace nor smoke nor
ruin more than any troubling dream.

00:30:16.680 --> 00:30:17.595
They rode on.

00:30:24.330 --> 00:30:30.750
An excerpt from the novel Blood
Meridian, or The Evening Redness

00:30:30.780 --> 00:30:33.720
in The West, by Cormac McCarthy.

00:30:48.750 --> 00:30:53.760
Tales told by shadowy elders
around ancient campfires offered

00:30:53.760 --> 00:30:56.160
both explanation and comfort.

00:30:57.660 --> 00:30:59.129
Life hasn't changed that much.

00:30:59.485 --> 00:31:05.065
Our dependence on explanation and
comfort still lies just under our

00:31:05.095 --> 00:31:08.115
busy ambition and constant yearning.

00:31:09.945 --> 00:31:14.475
This has been episode 10 of
Conovision, the spirit of storytelling.

00:31:16.185 --> 00:31:20.415
We began with the words and wisdom
of Dr. James Hollis from his book,

00:31:20.715 --> 00:31:26.564
finding Meaning in the Second Half of
Life, or how to finally really grow up?

00:31:27.689 --> 00:31:31.155
Asking the eternal question,
where did the gods go?

00:31:32.534 --> 00:31:34.965
Plus the literary Olympians.

00:31:35.370 --> 00:31:38.460
William Butler Yeats and Cormac McCarthy.

00:31:39.120 --> 00:31:45.720
I urge you to find every word they
wrote and read it slowly, please.

00:31:49.200 --> 00:31:50.129
I'm Jim Conrad.

00:31:50.670 --> 00:31:51.450
Thanks for listening.

00:31:51.870 --> 00:31:56.015
And as always, remember, we
are all stories to be told.