Only when we enter the protective shell of bone do we encounter the triune brain, where the layerings of reptilian, mammalian, and hominid structures have pressed forward and out toward the frontal lobes, as well as back into the neo-cerebellum.
Would it be unreasonable to inquire whether this natural history within us actively has a story to tell?
What of this set of possibilities that Jung saw, the early formations that inhabit us, both light and dark, violent and compassionate, meticulous and sloven, holy and scatological, the deep bedrock that the swarming personal unconsciousness fabricates an ego out of?
Paglia has argued that art arises out of the struggle between inner natures, the triumph of an Apollonian, masculine spirit, against the cthonic id that Freud would understand all too well; violent, demanding, impulsive, constrained by socializing forces sometimes strong and sufficient, at other times frail and unreliable.
© 1995 Morgan Garwood
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