Chicken Little: The Inside Story (A Jungian ... - Inner City Books

54 Chicken Little: The Inside Story
“In one way or another, Ms. Little has been a large part of my
life ever since.”
I lowered my head, feeling how frivolous by comparison was my
own interest.
Brillig stood up and stretched.
“Cut loose from the monastery I slowly readjusted to secular
life. During the war years I put aside my personal concerns. I was
too old to be drafted, of course, but I did my duty on the homefront,
working behind the scenes with various relief agencies.
“When the war was over I used my abilities to restock my diminished
fortune. This was not difficult if you knew your elbow from
your backside. Meanwhile, I resumed my search for meaning, immersing
myself in what scholars now are wont to call ‘the modern
European mind.’ That was when I discovered Jung. For some years
he was only one among my many treasured ‘guides,’ but when once
again I came to a dead end, I knew where to go.”
He turned his face to the sun and fell silent. His profile was suffused
in a golden light. A few wisps of white hair clung to his skull
just above the ears.
The door opened and Rachel poked her head in.
“Pancakes and bacon in ten minutes. You guys interested?”
“Dear lady,” smiled Brillig.
“We’ll be right down,” I said.
Rachel closed the door and I turned to Brillig.
“I am fascinated by the things you say, but tell me, why did you
come? My letter was not exactly enthusiastic.”
He shrugged.
“I read between the lines, my boy. Had you contacted me immediately—as
I asked you to, my little trap—I would have been suspicious.
I counted the days till your response. Every day I didn’t hear
from you was to my mind a plus. You were not to be easily lured. I
liked that. When your letter arrived it was frank and to the point. I
knew immediately that I had found a kindred soul. I informed you
of my intention, giving you several days to call us off—just in case.
You didn’t.
“Meanwhile, I had obtained some of your other work. In truth it
is an odd collection.”