Wednesday, July 6, 2011
 Los Demonios de la Creatividad
Fin de semana relativamente calmado. Caminando de cuando en vez por Nueva Quisqueya. Comiendo como todo un foodie por Viejo San Juan. Eso es terapia.
Por aquello de cortar un poco el churning de los articulos previos decidi poner un tema esoterico. Un escape a la realidad. Tenua esta discusion vieja en mis anaqueles, pero nunca la presente. De repente toma relevancia. Quizas este influenciado en que Mildred finalmente accedio a ver Rebuild of Evangelion 2.22 y quedo gratamente impresionada por el giro que le dieron a la historia. Por si acaso no han notado ambos somos grandes fanaticos de la serie, los mangas, los mechas y el esoterismo de botica y cabalismo implicado en la historia. Pero ese, queridos amigos, no es el tema.
Antes de que piensen que se ha fumado la paz, no can do. Por si acaso, las cosas siguen igual, es irreversible, simplemente que el ambiente es mucho mas llevadero. La calma antes de la tormenta? Solo el tiempo lo dira.
El tema tenia que ver con la creatividad y el manejo de los demonios internos. Escribia a una amiga los otros dias y especulaba. Le decia que para mi dibujar y escribir es una especie de escape. Canalizo mis sentimientos, los transmuto y los expreso en un papel. O sea. No es plasmar la furia en un dibujo. No es dibujar la frustracion. Es hacer algo completamente no relacionado a mi sentimiento que me borra mis sentimientos negativos. Es una terapia.
Entonces tropece con este artista, que descarga sus frustraciones al sistema y sus fracaso como artista de renombre en su blog. Escribio un interesante articulo sobre como Governor's Island se ha convertido en el refugio de artistas rezagados que no logran el exito esperado.
Me recordo un poco la historia de Van Gogh. Un artista tan genial y prolifico que ironicamente murio en la pobreza, mentalmente destruido. Les dejo recuerdos de una exhibicion de sus obras, y links hacia una coleccion de sus cartas.
Siguiendo la tradicion, siempre me gusto el estilo artistico de Van Gogh. Y Akira Kurosawa. Asi que en honor a ambos una escena de Dreams. Una excelente pelicula que no puedo dejar de recomendar.
Mi historia, mas que acumular links enfocaba en como los demonios (la acepcion 'daimons' griego es muy distinta de la version demoniaca negativa que se presenta en tiempos modernos). El daimon (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Daimonic) presentaba esa esencia creativa y fuente de inspiracion y transmutacion. Asi que les dejo algo de la psicologia del tema y las diferencias debajo. Aparenta ser que mi corazonada tiene un fundamento espiritual. Les dejo la siguiente discusion:
From Angels to Daimons
The idea that angels mediated between God and mankind was actually a much older one that the pseudo-Dionysius derived from the great Neoplatonists who flourished in the Hellenistic culture surrounding Alexandria in the first to fourth centuries AD. His whole system of theology in fact was cribbed wholesale from Plotinus, Iamblichus and Proclus and then Christianised. But in the original 'theology' the mediating beings were not called angels but daimones, daimons (or, after the Latin, if you prefer, dæmons). The idea of guardian angels comes from the Greek notion of the personal daimon.
Genius and genes
Another paradox in the nature of the personal daimon is that it can also be impersonal. Our clergyman's widow encountered a being that was clearly and intimately connected with her - yet also almost part of the landscape, like a fairy. I suggest that, while the personal daimon is exactly that - personal - it is also always grounded in the impersonal and unknowable depths of the psyche. It is also, in other words, a manifestation of the Anima Mundi, or Soul of the World - as the case of Plotinus, the first and greatest of the Neoplatonic philosophers, makes clear.
In The Soul's Code (1996), James Hillman - the best of the post-Jungian analytical psychologists - develops a whole child psychology based on the idea of the personal daimon. He calls it the acorn theory, according to which "each life is formed by its unique image, an image that is the essence of that life and calls it to a destiny. As the force of fate, this image acts as a personal daimon, an accompanying guide who remembers your calling… The daimon motivates. It protects. It invents and persists with stubborn fidelity. It resists compromising reasonableness and often forces deviance and oddity upon its keeper and especially when it is neglected or opposed."
Since it represents the fate of the individual - since our adult 'oak' life is latent in our acorn state - the personal daimon is prescient. It knows the future - not in detail, perhaps, because it can't manipulate events, but the general pattern. It is that within us which is forever restless and unsatisfied, yearning and homesick, even when we are at home. (But we should note that it is not our conscience: the daimon is not a moralist, and so it is possible to ask our daimon to fulfil our own desires, even evil or selfish ones; we can appropriate the daimon's power for our own egotistical ends.) In short, our behaviour is not just formed by the past, as psychology tends to suppose; it can be formed retroactively by the future, by the intuition of where our calling will take us, and what we are destined to become. Hillman cites the example of many famous people's biographies where the child either knows what he might become - like Yehudi Menuhin insisting as a tiny child on having a violin, yet smashing the toy violin he was given: his daimon was already grown up and disdained to play a child's toy - or fears to know what he must become - Manolete, bravest and best of bullfighters, clung to his mother's apron strings as if he already knew the dangers he would have to encounter as an adult. Winston Churchill was a poor scholar, consigned to what we'd now call a remedial reading class, as if putting off the moment when he would have to labour for his Nobel Prize for Literature.
Thus, when we see bright children going off the rails, we should hesitate to blame their parents and their past. Their daimons are, after all, parentless and have plans for them other than the plans of parents or the conformist demands of school. (It's notable that our passion for attributing aberrant behaviour in children to dodgy parenting is highly eccentric: in traditional societies, whatever's wrong always comes from elsewhere, whether witchcraft, taboo-breaking, neglected rituals, contact with unfavourable places, a remote enemy, an angry god, a hungry ghost, an offended ancestor and so on - but never to what your mum and dad did to you, or didn't do, years ago.)
Those exceptional souls who become aware of their daimon, as Jung did, have the satisfaction of fulfilling its purpose and hence of fulfilling their true selves. But this does not make them immune to suffering; for who knows what Badlands the daimon would have us cross before we reach the Isles of the Blessed? Who knows what wrestling, what injury, we are in for - like Jacob - at the hands of our angel? What our daimon teaches us, therefore, is not to always be seeking a cure for our suffering but rather to seek a supernatural use for it. "I have had much trouble in living with my ideas," wrote Jung at the end of his long and fruitful life. "There was a daimon in me… It overpowered me, and if I was at times ruthless it was because I was in the grip of a daimon… A creative person has little power over his own life. He is not free. He is captive and driven by his daimon... The daimon of creativity has ruthlessly had its way with me."
For the poet, the daimon is his or her Muse, who is at the very least a mixed blessing. Keats painted portraits of his Muse in Lamia and The Belle Dame sans Merci: white-skinned, cold, irresistibly alluring figures who seduce the poet, drain him like a vampire for their own purposes, and leave him "alone and palely loitering". For, once she is awakened, the Muse will drive relentlessly to become the centre of the personality, casting aside whatever we think of as ourselves. The rewards in terms of achievement can be enormous, but they are also dangerous; and everyday life, with its little comforts and satisfactions, can be a casualty. As the late Poet Laureate, Ted Hughes, writes feelingly in Winter Pollen (1994), the Muse "from earliest times came to the poet as a god, took possession of him, delivered the poem, then left him." It was axiomatic, he says, that she lived her own life separate from the poet's everyday personality; that she was entirely outside his control; and that she was, above all, supernatural.
The last word on personal daimons goes to the great Irish poet, WB Yeats, who wrote in his book, Mythologies (1959): "I think it was Heraclitus who said: the Daimon is our destiny. When I think of life as a struggle with the Daimon who would ever set us to the hardest work among those not impossible, I understand why there is a deep enmity between a man and his destiny, and why a man loves nothing but his destiny… I am persuaded that the Daimon delivers and deceives us, and that he wove the netting from the stars and threw the net from his shoulder…" Here is a portrait of the personal daimon which is both daunting and beautiful and, like Jung's, tinged with a poignant melancholy. For the daimon is our taskmaster, driving us to perform the most difficult work possible for us, no matter what the human cost. No wonder our feelings for it are as ambiguous as it shows itself to be. Anyone who invokes their guardian angel, therefore, should beware. It may not be as fluffy and cuddly as you'd have it. It will protect you, yes - but only the 'you' who serves its plan for your self. It will guide you, certainly - but who knows what sojourn in the wilderness this might entail? And, because the personal daimon is, finally, grounded in the impersonal Ground of Being itself, you will inevitably be led way, way out of your depth.
No es ironico? Lei The Soul Code cuando salio en el 1996. Fue un regalo de uno de mis cu/nados para ambos. La teoria era que uno escogia las circunstancias que le toco vivir. Que podias pasar la eternidad en psicoterapia quejandote de como fue culpa de mis padres, que fue culpa del alcoholismo o de la pobreza. Que era cuando te dabas cuenta que tu tienes el control de las circunstancias que comienzas a ver la vida de otra manera.
Alguien me decia una vez que uno no cambia el mundo, sino que uno cambia la vision del mundo. Entonces todo se transforma. Si x me odia, puedo responder con odio, engendrando mas odio. O puedo responder con empatia, sin responder al odio y entonces el odio se transmuta a algo menos letal.
Julio 7. Esta interesante animacion argentina, Angel Vitamina. Se ve bien, cortometraje aqui:
ANGELVITAMINA - TRAILER 2 / PILOTO from Diego De Rose / Wujoco on Vimeo.