Read Waiting for Godot

Waiting for Godot is a good read. You can go on youtube and watch practically all of it, especially Lucky's monologue, a pastische of scholarly mumbo jumbo. Still it is a wonderful play, and it resonates with life as we live it: when the grandiosity of our primary narcissism is stripped away; when our craving for admiration is abetted; when we've emerged out of the depths of depression as normalcy - then we may see; then we may be healed. Healed in a way non-miraculous. Let us leave behind our need for the miraculous - our magical thinking, our projections onto God that equate to a lesser, though "omnipotent" god. God is supremely interested that we grow up. That we get past our need to have others agree with us or to be in agreement with others - that we (in object relations terms) get past our false self, the pretense (the pretense that we exhibit a fortiori in the Garden) of being other than we are. Let us live in the Real - thinking neither too highly or too lowly (that's a shout out to you worm theologians out there - I'm looking at you Charles Hodge) about our capacities. We're much better reading Klein and Lacan, for all their antipathy, and then immersing ourselves back into Calvin and Barth with a smattering of Tillich, emerging in the clear light of Bion and Freud. Perhaps able to stand on our feet and take the gestalt as we come to it, and be, authentically be ourselves, who God created us to be, without recourse to the Text as tailesman, instead seeing in the text, what Jung points out the alchemists saw in their retorts: the mandala through which the soul's process is mirrored and integrated into the self.