“When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown; the dream is gone.” – Roger Waters
Why do we struggle so hard to bring the unknown into the light when light can be such a curse? The Bible says, “For with much wisdom comes much sorrow; the more knowledge, the more grief” (Ecclesiastes 1:18). While I disagree that wisdom is meaningless, Ecclesiastes is true. True in one of those eternally true ways. How can one book have so much truth?
What is the poetry, music, or literature that we can turn to today? I’m tempted to agree with the French philosopher Jean Baudrillard, the simulacra is accepted. Maybe even preferred? We were lucky. Once lyrics were added to music, the poets branched out. Music was added to the poetry of Roger Waters and Jim Morrison. Some poets, like Hendrix, sometimes had no lyrics at all. It’s always the artists and poets that bring the unconscious to life and they’ve all suffered because of it.