This article is on the subject of the Like Button or whatever you like to call it button … you know the one! Whether you’re having a love or hate affair with it, or both, it seems that this button is here to stay. I’m going to begin with considering the external LB (Like Button) the one we encounter on WordPress, social media and in our daily lives too. Later I’ll explore the internal LB, the one that enables us to make our own decisions and validate ourselves. The curious case of two buttons, which one of these are you pressing? Let me start by sharing that I don’t have a LB on my blog ‘The Liberated Sheep’ for reasons that will become clear by the end of this post. Although, I’ve noticed I still get likes due to the wordpress.com reader, which I have no idea how to switch off!
Jung at Heart
I was truly young at heart when I first encountered Jung, whilst reading a book by Freud, in my local library. Intrigued by him I returned to the shelves and chanced upon his memoir, ‘Memories, Dreams, Reflections’ and sat down to read it. Being only fifteen years old meant that I couldn’t take out an adult book so it took a few trips to the library after school to complete reading. Anyhow I did finish it and although much of what I read went over my head I remember feeling captivated. Then as often happens, Jung and I (consciously) parted company for the next thirty years until, aged forty five years, I met him again and abundantly so, after joining a local women’s Dream Group based on Jungian principles.
Why I was first drawn to Clarissa I’ll never know …
I remember entering the shop and pushing back the curtain to find her sitting there, at her table in the back room, smiling. As I approached my thirtieth birthday, I was nervous yet desperate for insight into a life-changing decision I was making. Time backed up the moment she pulled out her Tarot cards, it was like magic being spread around the table. The consultation with Clarissa lasted two hours and I remember feeling amazed by her deeply intuitive, accurate reading of those mystical cards. It was revelatory! I saw her two more times over the next six years. Each time I felt held, in some way contained, by this archetypal witchy looking woman with her large gold earrings. Then, as often is the case, after the crisis had passed I forgot all about her.