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C O N C L U S I O N The New begin now with this, how we are in a new time of ourselves. These past years have been a continuous unveiling, taking masks away, taking away familiar shapes, familiar structures, treasured truths, to reveal a living seedbed, flowing waters, interweaving colors, spiritual contours underneath /within/above: immanent/transcendent. Maxim: "Until our worst fear befalls us, we are not born." We start from a different point, from a new heart, with a new face, to a new purpose : To see community wherever we are? Not to prescribe, but to feel it, in every part? Loneliness and estrangement, "the self-shaping of privacy," antipathy, the need to resist? To embrace? To discover? What luck, to dwell in the forms of difference and sympathy, as in one living form. When I am not in love with this much trust, I am terrified of it. We begin with our real needs and try to ask our real questions. We respect the tenderness of our souls and our delicacy of feeling. We respect our toughness and imprudence , our generosity and abandon. Gifts cast shadows. We respect our fear and shame and anxiety, our hatred, and sourness. We are not always able to give what we are asked for. We want to start from a beginning, new in a new time. We take small steps. Each one feels real. What is money? What is food? What are dreams? What is home? What are clothes? What is sleep? What are stars? What is color? What is form? What shall we do with our irritation, our hurt feelings, our self-doubt and pride, our over-give? How shall we adore, how hope? We listen, and learn to respond. This takes time. It is our work.This is learning to live. "What shall I do with my life?" Feeling real to oneself is a new kind of work.And making sacred relationships with what is not oneself is a new kind of work. The human soul can enter into life only through very small openings. When my therapist Erlo Van Waveren told me this, I immediately saw in my inner eye a mouse243 W hole, in a baseboard, bright eyes and twitching whiskers and perky ears, a little mouse looking around, and coming in through a very small hole. I like this. It is in contrast to the cosmic vistas which the spirit tends to prefer, or the "no exit" temptations of the body. The human soul tends to get dizzy on cosmic heights. It feels more in balance with the girl next door, or the groaning child in our own breast. One time when I was feeling heavy and depressed, I turned inward to ask what was wrong. Suddenly,in my psyche I felt a wee mouse. I was lying smack on top of her, no wonder she felt squashed and unable to move. I learned from Ms Mouse that she thought of me as King, so busy taking care of things, he's unaware of whom he's sitting on. And my mouse is so unused to feeling any worth in herself that it took my questioning to stir her up. Where was the Queen? And where was the Human Friend? The King too, I notice, suffers attacks of woe. He is the King, so why does he weep? Ah, he is lonely, and hard pressed by many responsibilities. He asks much of himself in governing his realm. I suggest that he sit back for a moment and rest. And to the realm, I suggest that they bring forward their gifts and their love. Valentines and jigs, songs and presents, the cricket brings his knees and the beetle his nose and the cockroach his wit and the ant her grouch and the grasshopper his wings and the mouse her soft body and lovelit eyes, bringing their joy to the King. They didn't know he needed them, and neither did he. He weeps to feel the warmth and caring, takes off his crown, the realm has awakened, now all dance. The realm cannot, now, be governed by a king, but needs all creatures large and small. I have been meaning to make a great big mouse out of clay. And I have started to model a feminine mothering figure who is always accessible. Spiritual opening, expanding consciousness, responsibility, are steps on a way. But they need to be reintegrated with simple humanness. Arthur Josephson used...

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