Poetic Psychology is not a theory; it is a way of experiencing your life through the instincts of the unconscious psyche - the sensory introspective force animating the innermost core of the boundless elementary constellations making up the material dimensions of existence.
All the human senses have a distinctive intrapsychic resonance and I was able to hear, sense, smell, touch and see unconscious impulses sounding through the inert as well as organic elements of my own nature from when I was very young.
It has always been the images, however - the specks of psychological fiction – and their strikingly elegant and sophisticated instinctual sensuality that I love so very much and that draw my attention to them, day and night.
I do not remember exactly when or why, maybe because there is so much chemistry between us, but one day I learnt that Matter - which, like Psyche, is entirely unable to reflect itself through itself - wanted me to tell it what I could see through the eyes of the psyche's imagination and how it envisioned the properties shaping my elemental character.
Being enamoured with the material aspect of life and the unfathomable strength, indestructible resilience and stunning beauty of the elementary particles that found and shape existence, I was very glad to record the memoires of my life as a figure in psyche’s poetic fantasies and narrate them silently to the universe.
Carolina
Amour
My imaginal memoires are dedicated to the force of character - the two extraordinary psychological reflections that found and drive my nature and the greatest of all the loves of my inner life:
My mother - the beloved granddaughter and aristocratic heiress of the densest and most luminous black shade of the unconscious's Original dark matter and
My father - the cunning general, fearless warrior, seasoned patriarch, and most stable and resilient element founding the primordial Cosmos of the Greco-Roman imagination.
We are all images of psyche in our family, you see, intricate instinctual patterns mirroring a piece of original landscape in the material dimension underlying human nature.
I wish so often that I did not have to leave my home, that my mother did not have to send me away to find my father and bring him home, when I was so young.
I wish I could have stayed on our land, with our animals and our large and close-knit family without ever having to become conscious, civilised, and cultured in the world.
I found it very difficult to be apart from my them, and after the collision with consciousness - being broken down and squashed through the pinhead that is its dimension in cosmic terms - had left me with severe fractures, spinal injuries and memory loss, it was only because they reminded me constantly where I belong and that I had to keep going that I did not die and could bear the separation.
The pain was often insufferable and I will always feel the remnants of it throughout my anatomy. Fortunately, my family removed my heart in time and safely stored the heat of my love for the Cosmos in psyche's azure vault, so I was able to walk on with my senses intact and regain the memory of whatI was originally.
These days, back home, I cannot feel the agony anymore, only the silent pulse where the centre of my longing for them used to be.
Telling the tale of my parents, and of my family, is what keeps me warm. Maman was keen for me to do it for that very reason. Keeping the fire lit on the images of our existence regulates our cosmic cold-bloodedness, my mother’s and thus naturally my own. We feel well that way – the gut intimately close and firmly attached to the depth, the essence and the pulse of all original movements arising from the unconscious.
Narrating the story of my lineage greatly pleases my father, who built, who owns and who is my house – my intrapsychic home. It was our patriarch who taught and forced me to fight ferociously to withstand his stunning and indestructible Masculine frame. A battle which, once won, would hone and cement my character and earn me the gift of inheriting papà's unbreakable imaginal spine.
Maman and my father are a stunning couple and even though they are extremely demanding with their children, they always guide us, show us profound respect and at all times have our back.
They are the coldest, cruellest, and most cunning and yet the sanest and most sanguine and sagacious of psyche’s imaginal forces, and it is the inconceivable terror and the spectacular resilience their relentless drives instilled in me in equal measure that made me grow up, that set me free and that turned out what I am.
I love my parents madly and I am so immensely grateful for everything they and my family have been and done for me.
Maman and papà, I know you have at times been worried that your demands would push me beyond the brink of my iron imaginal resilience, but I want to tell you, again, that there was never a creature nor a thought in this world that would ever come between me, the Cosmos and the universe.