I decided since I haven't touched this blog in ages, and have been trying to post more online at my livejournal regarding my current studies on myth, symbol, and ritual for school that I really should just start another "real" blog.
So I direct anyone who stumbles here to...
The Absent Narrative
9.30.2007
bees in birds and bugs in brains
Seussian nightmares.
The other day I was walking up the street and looked down to see a dead bird in the gutter. This wasn't disturbing in itself, even with its guts splayed open to the morning sun, but there swarming about in the bird's chest was a handful of bees, not just flitting about with an idle buzz but actively digging into the avian. It was actually kind of beautiful, and if I hadn't been so shocked and on my way to school I would have gotten my camera to take a picture of it. In hindsight it seemed an odd thing for bees to be doing, last time I checked I didn't think bees ate flesh, and beyond colony-collapse disorder I wonder just how else the environment is effecting wildlife.
Perhaps more disturbing was a news report I stumbled on (via posthuman blues) about brain-eating amoebas that have killed 6 people in southern lakes this year, an unprecedented spike in the number of deaths by the brain-eating amoeba, which if you splash in a still, algae-covered lake and get water up your nose, will crawl up to your brain and eat till you die, in two deliriously painful weeks. That this is real disturbs me, that the amoeba's thrive in hot water and the scientist studying them thinks we'll only see more of this as global warming continues disturbs me. That the symptoms of having your brain eaten by an amoeba are a stiff neck and headaches disturbs me (because that's how I've been feeling for the past week, though I think I'm suffering more from spending too much time looking back and forth between my computer and books for this research paper). I think what disturbs me the most is trying not to imagine these creatures somehow getting into a city's water supply. Actually I am more frightened by the possibility of spiders crawling into my ears and laying eggs, which I'm not sure is really possible but I still don't know what happened to that big mother who was crawling around the corners of my room all last week.
I actually have more important things to say, but they are being quietly consumed by the massive amount of research I'm doing to interpret the Ṛigveda myth of Indra slaying Vṛta for class. Having not done a research paper in years I'm actually quite excited. It's like an enormous jigsaw puzzle using information as the pieces, and with no final picture but what you want to make it. Of course, I also love organizing information, a trait that seems to run in my family, and hopefully I'll actually get around to writing the paper before it's due in a week and a half.
The other day I was walking up the street and looked down to see a dead bird in the gutter. This wasn't disturbing in itself, even with its guts splayed open to the morning sun, but there swarming about in the bird's chest was a handful of bees, not just flitting about with an idle buzz but actively digging into the avian. It was actually kind of beautiful, and if I hadn't been so shocked and on my way to school I would have gotten my camera to take a picture of it. In hindsight it seemed an odd thing for bees to be doing, last time I checked I didn't think bees ate flesh, and beyond colony-collapse disorder I wonder just how else the environment is effecting wildlife.
Perhaps more disturbing was a news report I stumbled on (via posthuman blues) about brain-eating amoebas that have killed 6 people in southern lakes this year, an unprecedented spike in the number of deaths by the brain-eating amoeba, which if you splash in a still, algae-covered lake and get water up your nose, will crawl up to your brain and eat till you die, in two deliriously painful weeks. That this is real disturbs me, that the amoeba's thrive in hot water and the scientist studying them thinks we'll only see more of this as global warming continues disturbs me. That the symptoms of having your brain eaten by an amoeba are a stiff neck and headaches disturbs me (because that's how I've been feeling for the past week, though I think I'm suffering more from spending too much time looking back and forth between my computer and books for this research paper). I think what disturbs me the most is trying not to imagine these creatures somehow getting into a city's water supply. Actually I am more frightened by the possibility of spiders crawling into my ears and laying eggs, which I'm not sure is really possible but I still don't know what happened to that big mother who was crawling around the corners of my room all last week.
I actually have more important things to say, but they are being quietly consumed by the massive amount of research I'm doing to interpret the Ṛigveda myth of Indra slaying Vṛta for class. Having not done a research paper in years I'm actually quite excited. It's like an enormous jigsaw puzzle using information as the pieces, and with no final picture but what you want to make it. Of course, I also love organizing information, a trait that seems to run in my family, and hopefully I'll actually get around to writing the paper before it's due in a week and a half.
9.15.2007
Faster than a Speeding Pharisee
I finally nerved myself up to talk to Dr. Clothey in person, which if anything will allow me to finally get some sleep and stop imagining what I might say to him. Admittedly I was a bit surprised by how unresponsive he was to the work I've done and plans for studying dreams and myth, but perhaps that was mostly due to being a bit more nervous than I expected to be and not presenting myself clearly. And when it comes to dreams, Clothey claims to not treat them as all that important, rather looking down on Jungian ideas (as well as on Campbell, for the understandable reason that Campbell has tried to draw too many broad parallels in myth without considering individual cultural differences).
However when I started asking specific questions Clothey got much more animated, particularly when it came to the topic of modern myth. I was surprised and a little pleased later to find him recycle much of our conversation into his class discussion, even touching briefly on eschatological myths. As far as modern mythemes that are active in the American landscape (his term, I'd perhaps say mindscape, or symbolscape), he tried to draw a thread from the Mesopotamian myth of Marduke slaying Tiamat and creating the world from her body, a justification of war, land ownership/division, and the concentration of power in the city-state, to our modern mythology of manifest destiny. John Wayne and the Wild West, the demonization of nature and Native Americans, the valorization of war and concretization of power in a figurehead, as we see with George Bush and Iraq, one more conquering saint against his draconic nemesis. Also interesting was Clothey's insistence on the modern myth of the "incompetent male," where once men where supposed to be like John Wayne, now they are portrayed in the media as idiots, yahoos, sexually and culturally impotent, with recourse only in "viagra and guns." Which of course made me want to consider what other sorts of mythemes might be at work to counter such a grim Babylonian vision of America. The environmental and anti-war movements were his two suggestions, though I imagine there could be much deeper mythological themes that could be brought to bear, and may be necessary in order to reorient the direction our culture is heading in...
Today Sophie asked if comic book superheroes might be part of our modern mythology, an idea that I've been pondering for years. She suggested that maybe they related to Nietzsche's idea of the 'superman,' which I thought more suggestive of the Taoist 'supreme man,' a state of self-transcendence. A good number of superheroes on the other hand repair to this world in order to save humanity or establish a new order or morality. The story of Superman paralleling the myth of Jesus, even down to them dying, extolls the need for an external salvation. Of course, many other superheroes were normal people who somehow became more than just that, and in doing a spot of research I came upon a review of a book called "The Gospel According to Superheroes: Religion and Popular Culture," where one of the essayists actually does compare Batman as the Nietzschean 'ubermensch,' and as mythologically important for the modern individual. We are asked to be no longer John, but Bruce Wayne.
Ironic, or synchronistic to all this was an odd dream last night of attending Sophie on some sort of similarly superheroesque quest she was on, complete with a large number of costume or disguise changes. Also during class yesterday Sophie called just as we were discussing the creation mytheme of demiurges and all the incarnations of the goddess Sophia.
[Edit: I'd get some sleep if I wasn't now too busy trying to track down obscure Easter Island and Aztec mythologies to figure out what to focus my paper on. No rest for the curious.]
However when I started asking specific questions Clothey got much more animated, particularly when it came to the topic of modern myth. I was surprised and a little pleased later to find him recycle much of our conversation into his class discussion, even touching briefly on eschatological myths. As far as modern mythemes that are active in the American landscape (his term, I'd perhaps say mindscape, or symbolscape), he tried to draw a thread from the Mesopotamian myth of Marduke slaying Tiamat and creating the world from her body, a justification of war, land ownership/division, and the concentration of power in the city-state, to our modern mythology of manifest destiny. John Wayne and the Wild West, the demonization of nature and Native Americans, the valorization of war and concretization of power in a figurehead, as we see with George Bush and Iraq, one more conquering saint against his draconic nemesis. Also interesting was Clothey's insistence on the modern myth of the "incompetent male," where once men where supposed to be like John Wayne, now they are portrayed in the media as idiots, yahoos, sexually and culturally impotent, with recourse only in "viagra and guns." Which of course made me want to consider what other sorts of mythemes might be at work to counter such a grim Babylonian vision of America. The environmental and anti-war movements were his two suggestions, though I imagine there could be much deeper mythological themes that could be brought to bear, and may be necessary in order to reorient the direction our culture is heading in...
Today Sophie asked if comic book superheroes might be part of our modern mythology, an idea that I've been pondering for years. She suggested that maybe they related to Nietzsche's idea of the 'superman,' which I thought more suggestive of the Taoist 'supreme man,' a state of self-transcendence. A good number of superheroes on the other hand repair to this world in order to save humanity or establish a new order or morality. The story of Superman paralleling the myth of Jesus, even down to them dying, extolls the need for an external salvation. Of course, many other superheroes were normal people who somehow became more than just that, and in doing a spot of research I came upon a review of a book called "The Gospel According to Superheroes: Religion and Popular Culture," where one of the essayists actually does compare Batman as the Nietzschean 'ubermensch,' and as mythologically important for the modern individual. We are asked to be no longer John, but Bruce Wayne.
Ironic, or synchronistic to all this was an odd dream last night of attending Sophie on some sort of similarly superheroesque quest she was on, complete with a large number of costume or disguise changes. Also during class yesterday Sophie called just as we were discussing the creation mytheme of demiurges and all the incarnations of the goddess Sophia.
[Edit: I'd get some sleep if I wasn't now too busy trying to track down obscure Easter Island and Aztec mythologies to figure out what to focus my paper on. No rest for the curious.]
9.11.2007
Jodorowsky on Life
I wanted to write something about psycho-spiritual crises, about my reasons for dreaming, studying myths and literature, about what I am looking for in myself, in the world...
...but Alejandro Jodorowsky's words (from a recent interview) might have to suffice.
...but Alejandro Jodorowsky's words (from a recent interview) might have to suffice.
"Do you pray? And if so, to who or to what?"
No, I don’t believe in praying to an external god, but I think in the interior of ourselves, we have what I call the interior world. A world which is a clear point of light, which is not you, but it is the fountain of life within yourself. When they discovered America, there was a fountain where you wash and get young – the fountain of youth. The fountain of health is inside you. And every night, I try to approach there. That for me is to pray, to make emptiness and to come to the centre of yourself, to try to go there.
...
You have no fear of death?
Not anymore. I am completely prepared to die – spiritually, not corporally. My body wants to live. The body always wants to be immortal, not to die. And the soul accepts death - that is good. But it’s not good if my body wants to die, because my life is shorter. You menace me with a knife, and I will defend myself, I will ask somebody to protect me, no? Even if I say [to myself], “I can die.” I understand that.
Do have any beliefs about what happens afterwards?
Why? Why be curious about what will happen, it will happen anyway, it will happen! Either I’ll go there or there – everything will happen. It’s fantastic – the future is fantastic! Anything that will happen will happen!"
what I meant to write earlier, but didn't have the heart
Sophie got back from Boston yesterday and we got together after my classes, talking late into the night about what's going on in our hearts, our minds. I mostly tried to articulate the many questions that have been circling for days, about community involvement, my reasons and goals for studying myth and literature, the somewhat existential crises I was feeling Sunday night, walking up the back streets of Bloomfield alone, with the dark looming rain clouds and Sigur Ros in my headphones, seeing the sunset reflected in dirty windows and a feather on the edge of a puddle that sent a shiver through my heart. But I was feeling totally ungrounded, adrift in the world, cut loose from community, my dreams, any truly revealing or opening experience. According to Charles Long (whose book Alpha I am reading for class) describes myth as a symbolic ordering which makes clear how the world is present for man, and though I haven't had as clear recall on my dreams these past weeks, they are one of the most consistent places where my world is revealed to me, further deepened by my love of literature, stories that speak to broader realities and make life make sense, the same way Sophie said she finds such peace and place in poetry. But community can do likewise, talking and playing music with other people in a way I haven't in a long time, social rituals which I miss and should seek out, in our ideas for a personal salon, in looking at joining some student organization. But it runs deeper, I have constantly through my life sought out experiences that broaden my reality, which put me in deeper touch with mystery, awe, what is possible. Experiences that are more fully real, with that existential quality of utter wonder and terror, beauty and pain, balanced into one moment. I wonder, is it possible to find such moments of transcendence at all times, a total irruption of the sacred? That mindset of the continual "Yes!" which finds this sacredity not in some external "Other" but in the identification of the self with the whole world, in each indescribable moment...
In all my classes the question of duality keeps coming up, Plato's two causes of Reason and Necessity, Barthe's "Doxology"- cultrually instilled beliefs that cast differences in terms of conflict, even Evolutionary Psychologists trying to find proof for differences in sexual proclivities. In Critical Reading we had the Deconstructionist critique explained as one that tries to get beyond artificial dualities, and in myths we have abstract, primal dualities, a coincidence of opposites, that are necessary to the symbolic ordering of the world, but are ultimately transcended. Kinds of academic or epic yoga, in short. The question aside (for the time being) of how this is all related to sexuality, which has also come up in all these classes, I still fail to see why reality has to be expressed in dualistic terms, or how it is possibe to percieve it otherwise. Certainly there are always grey borders and ambiguities between concepts, certainly I have had many moments that have stretched my consciousness past any individual identification, an acceptance of being intimately part of the whole. And yet, I still hide in my room, don't talk to most people, look for differences, still feel isolated and alien even in groups of joyous and close friends. I still can't grasp how two such primaly opposed forces as Night and Day can be rectified, much less to speak of Life and Death, when they just seem so phenomenologically distinct. Sure, life is a dream, but one tha tfails to convey the same symbolic depth, that sense of chaotic possibility, except in those rare moments of lucidity or hallucination, whereas the death of sleep, even in its most mundane moments, is utterly profound with psycho-spiritual implications. Life of course can also be profound, it does not just have to be these routines, this profanity, the dead hands of history and binary logic, it can be awesome, Real, the day too can show us, and quite symbolically, how we are present in the world. I am not quite there yet though, and most of the time just want people to be quiet so that I can read in peace, and go back to sleep.
In all my classes the question of duality keeps coming up, Plato's two causes of Reason and Necessity, Barthe's "Doxology"- cultrually instilled beliefs that cast differences in terms of conflict, even Evolutionary Psychologists trying to find proof for differences in sexual proclivities. In Critical Reading we had the Deconstructionist critique explained as one that tries to get beyond artificial dualities, and in myths we have abstract, primal dualities, a coincidence of opposites, that are necessary to the symbolic ordering of the world, but are ultimately transcended. Kinds of academic or epic yoga, in short. The question aside (for the time being) of how this is all related to sexuality, which has also come up in all these classes, I still fail to see why reality has to be expressed in dualistic terms, or how it is possibe to percieve it otherwise. Certainly there are always grey borders and ambiguities between concepts, certainly I have had many moments that have stretched my consciousness past any individual identification, an acceptance of being intimately part of the whole. And yet, I still hide in my room, don't talk to most people, look for differences, still feel isolated and alien even in groups of joyous and close friends. I still can't grasp how two such primaly opposed forces as Night and Day can be rectified, much less to speak of Life and Death, when they just seem so phenomenologically distinct. Sure, life is a dream, but one tha tfails to convey the same symbolic depth, that sense of chaotic possibility, except in those rare moments of lucidity or hallucination, whereas the death of sleep, even in its most mundane moments, is utterly profound with psycho-spiritual implications. Life of course can also be profound, it does not just have to be these routines, this profanity, the dead hands of history and binary logic, it can be awesome, Real, the day too can show us, and quite symbolically, how we are present in the world. I am not quite there yet though, and most of the time just want people to be quiet so that I can read in peace, and go back to sleep.
9.07.2007
Dream Theatre
I haven't had any really epic or interesting dreams since returning from our road-trip, when I was taught to fly by the witches and went on a journey into the depths of hell, but being immersed in mythology lately I started thinking last night as I was falling to sleep about just how many of my older dreams are mythic in scope, and woke at seven from this suitably epic adventure (though epic in a way much different than most of my dreams):
I was in a packed movie theatre waiting for the show to begin. A couple other kids in front of me wondered what the movie was, and as it started I knew it was a flick about the end of the world, one I had seen before and highly enjoyed, but also was living in. Something was really wrong and the crowd dispersed. My brother Devon was in front of me and turned around to talk. There was some tension between us, a sort of brotherly competition which the voice-over explained. My twin Scott showed up with his girlfriend Anne, who was dressed in wet blue-white robes and arguing with him or mad over something he'd done, though he only looked sheepish. We had to get out of there fast. Suddenly I found myself on a long rocky strand jutting out into the sea with thick clouds overhead. Alberto was with me and we were trying to figure out how to get to a square black prison or military outpost that loomed on an island to right far out in the sea, where Sophie and Sarah were being held prisoner. There were many military personnel swarming over the strand with surveying and radio equipment. I looked up just as the clouds parted to see an enormous jet black metal spaceship flying close and fast over the whole sky. Alberto and the soldiers also exclaimed at the sight of this monolithic apparition and ran around wildly, for it was the sign we were waiting for, a herald of the end. At the sight of the spaceship, the soldiers called to the prison, and soon an equally large black ship, like an airship carrier or square submarine charged from the island towards the strand at an enormous speed. Both it and the spaceship had a gothic quality that on waking reminded me of the Cathedral of Learning. The ship approached, looking like it wouldn't stop, but run right into the strand, so Alberto and I scrambled down the rocky side to where a white ship had fortuitously pulled up, captained by young anarchist pirates out for a joy cruise, enjoying feasts and games on their floating party. I leapt from the strand onto the pirate ship, bowling into the revelers and upsetting one girl who wanted to raise a stink about our intrusion. At that the black ship swung along side, and a military officer leaned out to take the girl's complaint. She however didn't want to deal with the military, so instead the officer gave us each a grey coin that was like a demerit for bad behavior or token of our guilt. The anarchists wanted to sail off and continue partying, but I was more concerned with rescuing our lovers from the island and preparing for the invasion of both the army and the spaceship.
I was in a packed movie theatre waiting for the show to begin. A couple other kids in front of me wondered what the movie was, and as it started I knew it was a flick about the end of the world, one I had seen before and highly enjoyed, but also was living in. Something was really wrong and the crowd dispersed. My brother Devon was in front of me and turned around to talk. There was some tension between us, a sort of brotherly competition which the voice-over explained. My twin Scott showed up with his girlfriend Anne, who was dressed in wet blue-white robes and arguing with him or mad over something he'd done, though he only looked sheepish. We had to get out of there fast. Suddenly I found myself on a long rocky strand jutting out into the sea with thick clouds overhead. Alberto was with me and we were trying to figure out how to get to a square black prison or military outpost that loomed on an island to right far out in the sea, where Sophie and Sarah were being held prisoner. There were many military personnel swarming over the strand with surveying and radio equipment. I looked up just as the clouds parted to see an enormous jet black metal spaceship flying close and fast over the whole sky. Alberto and the soldiers also exclaimed at the sight of this monolithic apparition and ran around wildly, for it was the sign we were waiting for, a herald of the end. At the sight of the spaceship, the soldiers called to the prison, and soon an equally large black ship, like an airship carrier or square submarine charged from the island towards the strand at an enormous speed. Both it and the spaceship had a gothic quality that on waking reminded me of the Cathedral of Learning. The ship approached, looking like it wouldn't stop, but run right into the strand, so Alberto and I scrambled down the rocky side to where a white ship had fortuitously pulled up, captained by young anarchist pirates out for a joy cruise, enjoying feasts and games on their floating party. I leapt from the strand onto the pirate ship, bowling into the revelers and upsetting one girl who wanted to raise a stink about our intrusion. At that the black ship swung along side, and a military officer leaned out to take the girl's complaint. She however didn't want to deal with the military, so instead the officer gave us each a grey coin that was like a demerit for bad behavior or token of our guilt. The anarchists wanted to sail off and continue partying, but I was more concerned with rescuing our lovers from the island and preparing for the invasion of both the army and the spaceship.
9.06.2007
Myth is Alive and Well (Though Not For Goats)
For my Myth Symbol and Ritual class I was asked to keep in eye on the media for themes of a mythic quality to share in class later today. Though this article is much more related to an instance of ritual than myth, I thought it perhaps a perfect example of how ancient beliefs are still alive in the modern world.
Goats sacrificed to fix Nepal jet. (via Monkeyfilter)
Two goats were sacrificed in front of a Boeing 757 at the Kathmandu Airport to the Hindu deity Akash Bhairav. After the sacrifice, the plane, which had been grounded due to electrical problems, was reportedly fixed and is back in flight. The irony perhaps is that the article describes Bhairav as being a deity of sky protection whose image is emblazoned on the side of the plane, whereas the god is linguistically a transformation of Bhairava, a manifestation of Shiva associated with destruction and prayed to in order to destroy enemies, which makes me wonder just what the Nepalese have in mind for their flights.
Also somewhat mythic is the legendary chupacabra supposedly caught by a hunter in South Texas, which regardless if it turns out to just be a mangy grey fox and not the "goat-sucking" monster, still shows people's willingness to believe in the mythic and supernatural. Though I've never heard of foxes sucking the blood out of live chickens... DNA tests still pending.
I also, true to form, read ahead in my texts for class so that I can be better prepared for the discussions. Reading Levi-Strauss' "Structural Analysis of Myth" yesterday fascinated me with his breakdown of myth as linguistic themes that can be analyzed, much the way I performed something akin to Calvin Hall's statistical analysis on my own dream themes last year. It is interesting to note that dreams are perhaps more rooted in language, as their recall is often based on, is only based on, what one can actually say about the images, that which can be repeated later on waking. Any small detail of a particular dream is important to its significance, from shades of light to pronunciations of names, whereas myth, according to Levi-Strauus, is that which remains when it is taken out of the language, the themes which carry across regardless of the particular linguistic events (a function that he claims places myth at the opposite end of the spectrum from poetry, despite other mythologists' (like Campbell) assertions that myth and poetry are inextricably intertwined). In order to recall a dream for recording, I've found it best to lay in bed half-way between wake and sleep and review the visual images of the dream with specific phrases and descriptions that won't as quickly dissipate upon getting up and being confronted by the stronger images of the World. Another interesting point is his idea that myths linguistically express not only the past and present of a culture, but the continuation of the events into the future, not something quite so akin to prophecy but a subjunctive pattern recognition that also perhaps allows one to make inferences from dreams about projected or desired states of the psyche. How does a story (whether mythic or oneiric) suggest what one might need to do in life? This is perhaps Eliade's take on myth as a paradigm for cultural rituals and actions that reaffirm the cosmological abstractions of the narrative, as well as Jung's assertion that dreams serve the function of self-actualization.
Goats sacrificed to fix Nepal jet. (via Monkeyfilter)
Two goats were sacrificed in front of a Boeing 757 at the Kathmandu Airport to the Hindu deity Akash Bhairav. After the sacrifice, the plane, which had been grounded due to electrical problems, was reportedly fixed and is back in flight. The irony perhaps is that the article describes Bhairav as being a deity of sky protection whose image is emblazoned on the side of the plane, whereas the god is linguistically a transformation of Bhairava, a manifestation of Shiva associated with destruction and prayed to in order to destroy enemies, which makes me wonder just what the Nepalese have in mind for their flights.
Also somewhat mythic is the legendary chupacabra supposedly caught by a hunter in South Texas, which regardless if it turns out to just be a mangy grey fox and not the "goat-sucking" monster, still shows people's willingness to believe in the mythic and supernatural. Though I've never heard of foxes sucking the blood out of live chickens... DNA tests still pending.
I also, true to form, read ahead in my texts for class so that I can be better prepared for the discussions. Reading Levi-Strauss' "Structural Analysis of Myth" yesterday fascinated me with his breakdown of myth as linguistic themes that can be analyzed, much the way I performed something akin to Calvin Hall's statistical analysis on my own dream themes last year. It is interesting to note that dreams are perhaps more rooted in language, as their recall is often based on, is only based on, what one can actually say about the images, that which can be repeated later on waking. Any small detail of a particular dream is important to its significance, from shades of light to pronunciations of names, whereas myth, according to Levi-Strauus, is that which remains when it is taken out of the language, the themes which carry across regardless of the particular linguistic events (a function that he claims places myth at the opposite end of the spectrum from poetry, despite other mythologists' (like Campbell) assertions that myth and poetry are inextricably intertwined). In order to recall a dream for recording, I've found it best to lay in bed half-way between wake and sleep and review the visual images of the dream with specific phrases and descriptions that won't as quickly dissipate upon getting up and being confronted by the stronger images of the World. Another interesting point is his idea that myths linguistically express not only the past and present of a culture, but the continuation of the events into the future, not something quite so akin to prophecy but a subjunctive pattern recognition that also perhaps allows one to make inferences from dreams about projected or desired states of the psyche. How does a story (whether mythic or oneiric) suggest what one might need to do in life? This is perhaps Eliade's take on myth as a paradigm for cultural rituals and actions that reaffirm the cosmological abstractions of the narrative, as well as Jung's assertion that dreams serve the function of self-actualization.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
