Who is right? your mother, Dr. Jung or Kafka

Let suppose you are going through highly difficult time in your life. A real gloomy and hopeless picture. A harsh breakup or big failure in critical juncture of life. You got desperately upset, absolutely see no light at the other end of tunnel.

You start spending so much time on social media, reading motivational quotes etc. This doesn’t work. Every authors trick your mind to forget darkness and start looking for light, which is not there unfortunately!

You discuss this with your mother.

How she will reply most probably?

“Life is not over yet!”

“Try to forget her/him”

“Move on, if one door is closed, 100 others get open” etc etc.

Unfortunately these plain and simple sentences doesn’t always work.

We need something more harsh that can contemplate the pain we are going through. a “painful pleasure” or “pleasurable pain”

Surprisingly in this domain, the intellect of Dr. Jung beats the biological love of our mothers.

Carl Jung holds a dissection knife in his hand. He shows us, interestingly our pain is complexly intertwined with our pleasure. The door we want to avoid actually holds are secrets. Dr. Jung doesn’t hold back our hand like our mother. He ask us to go through the fire of our emotions quietly.

“A man who has not passed through the inferno (fire) of his passions has never overcome them.”

Not only Dr. Jung, a number of other psychologists also believe holding emotions turn them even more intense. More harmful than cure.

There is another piece of thinking in this.
What hold us captive?

“Our emotions!”

Who give meaning to our emotion?

“Our life!”

So at the end, it is our life which give meaning to everything. Life provides us ability to question everything. Why don’t we question our life.

 

Life!!!

“Is it worth enough? to hold us captive”

Kafka, goes to a further extreme. He makes us more brave, providing us ability to question our life itself.

“To question life, which questions everything”

“One of the first signs of the beginning of understanding of life is the immense wish to die. This life appears unbearable, another unattainable. One is no longer ashamed of wanting to die; one asks to be moved from the old cell, which one hates, to a new one, which one will only in time come to hate. In this there is also a residue of belief that during the move the master will chance to come along the corridor, look at the prisoner and say: “This man is not to be locked up again, He is to come with me.”

After going through all this, we get a glimpse of our happiness for a short while!

“Not enough” or “Not worth it”

“Dr Carl Jung” or “Franz Kafka”

Atleast not our mother. Unless she is psychologist!

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