some mornings i wake up feeling so much more like a reader than a counselor. it’s not the same thing. the more i do the counseling work the more i realize it. i have to find a way to bring the reader to the counselor. maybe this week will bring some clarity and revelation around that. how can the priestess not be directive? how can the counselor not worry about following the road most travelled? there’s a rebellion inside of me that is surely a dragon, i can feel it. it’s the way school triggers and the way assessments force me to molt and change. there’s a metamorphosis happening and something feels threatened inside. god, i feel so unduly dramatic. i am really not in the mood to be dramatic-says another part of myself that’s like, “stop making this a thing,” and wow, when i think about it, i attract men like this to me. men who want to keep cigars just cigars and not go deep. i feel repulsion when i realize this. is my animus so shallow? reading the red book and descending into my own hell as i read it means exactly this. bringing soul to the soulless parts. i have not made time for the practice of active imagination, or as the shamans call it, journeying….but i need to. i feel the demons and dragons asking for acknowledgment. i certainly do not want to attract any more shallow men who like part of me but cannot hang with who i really am. i also want to fully do this work. it’s my passion. i am so far away from attracting any men, so far as i know. i only want one anyhow. i am used to the cycles of the new me who does not look outside anymore for relief that is temporary. it’s not even sacrifice when the thing you are giving up is the same thing you don’t want anymore.