Saturday Memory
December 13, 2025

I think the purpose of remembering has something to do with the future. Perhaps the point is that by remembering, one can better serve the future. As I have written, the same is true of dreams. They have to do with the future, even if their content focuses on the past. I woke up this morning remembering a dream from a while ago in which I saw three pennies on the sidewalk. Later that morning, on a walk, I happened upon three pennies on the sidewalk. This synchronicity felt significant. Even if pennies as such are not considered very significant, this synchronicity points to something of value. What came to mind immediately was the sense of finding value in the worthless, the importance of the Rule of Three, and how I might ritualize this event with the pennies as I often do with “found” objects. One thing I have done to ritualize with the pennies is to use them when I consult the I Ching. Another way has been to use the coins when I am feeling stuck in some way. I toss the coins three times and total up the values, which can range from 18 to 27 (heads = 3, tails =2).  I then reduce the total to a single digit and focus on the symbolism of that number. Notice that the series of single digits is bounded by the number 9, so the least is 9 and the most is 9. I always found this particularly valuable in relation to W. D. Gann’s Square of Nine when teaching about the financial markets. In any event, whatever number is obtained, delving into the symbolism of that number will always open a pathway forward.

Saturday Memory
December 6, 2025

Frank Gehry, the soul of postmodern architecture, has died at 96. Back in 1978, when I lived in Santa Monica, Frank and I were neighbors. He was working on an unprecedented reworking of his home, and it was this that caught the world’s attention. The somewhat posh neighborhood was outraged at his reconstruction, but the world of architecture saw something new in the making. Around this same time, I was a member of the C. G. Jung Institute and the C. G. Jung Society of Los Angeles. A new building was proposed to serve as the home of the Institute and Society, as well as the Analytical Psychology Club of Los Angeles. I suggested that Frank be the architect and design the building after interviewing all the members. Most members wanted the architect to follow their ideas. I proposed that we let Frank be free to create whatever he is inspired to design after talking with the members. Sad to say, after speaking with everyone, Frank said he could not take on the project when there was so much fear about what he would design. I think almost everyone imagined him doing something “crazy,” as he had done to his house. Frank continued to live in his Santa Monica house for decades. In the early 80s, I left Los Angeles and fell out of touch with Frank. He went on to become one of the world’s great architects. Please take a look at his famous buildings. Here is a picture of his house in Santa Monica.

Saturday Memory
November 29, 2025

At first, as I looked across the room of the psychophysiology class, all I could see was her dress. It was a Scottish Black Watch pattern. But it was enough to set my heart racing. Then I saw her, and my heart raced even more. Somewhere, somehow, I knew “she is the one.” About two weeks before, my mother asked if I had ever thought I would get married. “No way,” I said. But here I was set aflame as I’d never experienced. I had to ask her for a date. We connected and chatted, and finally, I worked up the nerve to ask her. “I’m doing a hysterectomy on a rat tonight in the lab. Would you like to watch?” As I reflect on that now, I think that may be the most original pickup line ever. She said, “Yes.” The night of the operation, she appeared with her brother, whom she brought along to check me out. She dismissed him quickly, and I began the operation, and it all went well. We have been married ever since: 65 years!

Russ

Thought for the Day
Wednesday, November 26, 2025

Over the years, I’ve collected thousands of books. Now, at 87, it’s time to say goodbye. This is hard for me. But I have begun. Some I donate, some I sell. And a very few, I say, “Not yet.” Some I cannot yet part with. I was helped in this task by a simple dream that said, “Remember them.” From this dream, I developed a ritual. I would hold each book and try to remember why I bought it, when I bought it, and what I had learned from it. I was surprised by how clear and accessible most of this remembrance was. Some of these encounters were like meeting an old friend I had not seen in years, and the time of separation just evaporated, and one was just present. So, yes, books are like friends, perhaps not just “lie” friends, but friends indeed. By enacting this ritual, my task has not become easier, but it has become meaningful in satisfying ways. At my age, saying “goodbye” to anything takes on a poignancy that burrows deep. Bittersweet comes to mind.

Russ

Saturday Memory

November 22, 2025

No recall of a specific memory, but as I was trying to recall, I fell into

a deep reverie on the number 87. I will be 87 on Thanksgiving. It will

be the last year of my third Saturn return, so a critical point

in time. I thought of “Four score and seven.” I thought of songs I

remember, e.g., David Bowie’s “87 and Cry.”  87 is the sum of the

squares of the first four prime numbers. Lots of miscellaneous

memories.  What struck me the most was the feeling of completing

a cycle. I couldn’t help but connect this with Origine, the “mentor

of my completeness.” I find myself joking about 87 candles on the

turkey or the cake.

Thought for the Day
Wednesday, November 19, 2025

The big headline today is “Leonard Lauder’s Klimt fetches $236.4 million at Sotheby’s.” Gustav Klimt’s portrait of Elizabeth Lauder (1912-1914) is the most ever paid for modern art at auction. This headline continues a trend that makes the most important thing about art the price it sells for. This monetization of art eclipses the meaning of art or other values of art and reflects how money has become the primary value in almost all areas of culture. There is no escaping it.

I woke up with a line from a poem: “Old age is center stage.” In a few days, I’ll be 87 years old, so this line was hardly “news.” As much as I am aware of old age and deal with it in various ways daily, nay, hourly, is more accurate, what is it I need reminding of by this line from sleep? My first thought was that this was a poem, but my memory only has a single line. So, I will work on a poem. The second thing that occurred to me was the memory of a foreword I wrote for a book on aging. For now, I’ll include that here, for it says many things that are coming to mind under the weight of this line from sleep. I’ll post it here as a Saturday Memory.

Old age is an opportunity to experience our own deepest mystery. Life’s distractions preclude tending to this mystery before the prospect of death begins to close all the curtains to the outside world. Mystery literally means “seeing with the eyes closed.” We do this when we sleep, and then we see dreams. Dreams, like our DNA, are unique to us. Truth be known, our dreams are an invitation to explore our uniqueness and become an extraordinary resource for us as we confront the reality and inevitability of death. We do know that every dream is a story—a mystery—but most people have little or no connection to this reality. This is why it is important for something or someone to point us in the direction of our own unique path—a direction that becomes crucial as death approaches. We don’t need instruction. We don’t need lectures. We don’t need admonitions or dogma. What we need are stories that strike us to the core, stories that can open us up to the most important pathway we will ever experience. What can help is to hear stories of someone who has struggled with the same things we struggle with in old age and as death begins to call our name. An exquisite example is Lilly Iona MacKensie’s book, Dreaming Myself into Old Age: One Woman’s Search for Meaning. What I find most compelling about this work is she speaks not with an impersonal, distant voice, but with full-throated revelations of her personal struggles, an inside view that invites connection, that opens one up to her stories, her dreams, and her art in such a way that it becomes a genuine companion to one’s own struggles with old age, dying, and death. Read this book now. You will be glad you did.

Russell A. Lockhart, Ph.D.

Author of The Final Interlude: Advancing Age and Life’s End, Psyche Speaks, Words As Eggs

Thought for the Day
Wednesday, November 12, 2025

The word “enantiodromia” means a turn into the opposite. Heraclitus first articulated it in about 500 BCE. He wrote, “Cold things warm, warm things cool, wet things dry, parched things get wet.” He developed this as the idea of tension reaching an extreme before triggering the run into its opposite state. Jung took this idea and made it a centerpiece of his psychology. It applies to individuals, groups, societies, and cultures. Given the extremity that Trumpism has brought about, what will be the likely trigger to reverse this horrific development? Any suggestions appreciated. I will work on my own reply as well.

Russ

Saturday Memory
November 8, 2025

I woke up thinking about a song. It was not a dream but an intense recall. The song was “Harper Valley PTA.” I remembered that Jeannie Riley sang it and that she was the first woman to top the pop and country charts with the same song. I also recalled that it had become something of a feminist anthem and was written by one of my favorite songwriters, Tom T. Hall. I first heard the song 57 years ago, but I have not heard it for several decades. I was 30 when I heard it and was about to begin training as a Jungian analyst. The theme of the song is a strong single woman standing up to a small town’s patriarchal hypocrisy. But why am I being reminded of this now as I near my 87th birthday? Sometimes, listening to a song that comes strongly out of the blue like this brings up a new feeling or a realization of some kind that applies to the “now.” When I listened to Jeannie sing “Harper Valley PTA,” I felt a strong urge to turn my poems into songs. How can I do this now becomes a task. I’ll post again when something comes of this. Take a listen:

(24) Jeannie C. Riley – Harper Valley P.T.A. with Lyrics – YouTube

Russ

Thought for the Day
Wednesday, November 5, 2025

The idea that dreams are a natural resource that cannot be plundered by money, power, corporatocracy, government or any other factor, means that dreams can be a source for something genuinely new and different. But this source is almost totally ignored by the vast majority of people. The loss that this represents is monumental and disheartening. What can be done to change this?

Russ