Shadow Work Is The Path Of The

The Unconscious Psyche Believes In Life After Death

Life Has Always Seemed To Me Like A Plant That Lives On Its Rhizome. Its True Life Is Invisible, Hidden In The Rhizome. The Part That Appears Above Ground Lasts Only A Single Summer. Then It Withers Away—an Ephemeral Apparition. When We Think Of The Unending Growth And Decay Of Life And Civilizations, We Cannot Escape The Impression Of Absolute Nullity. Yet I Have Never Lost A Sense Of Something That Lives And Endures Underneath The Eternal Flux. What We See Is The Blossom, Which Passes. The Rhizome Remains.

As Far As We Can Discern, The Sole Purpose Of Human Existence Is To Kindle A Light In The Darkness Of Mere Being.

The Shoe That Fits One Person Pinches Another; There Is No Recipe For Living That Suits All Cases.

The Self Is Our Life's Goal, For It Is The Completest Expression Of That Fateful Combination We Call Individuality.