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

92 Chicken Little: The Inside Story
My fantasies, what would I be without them? And they, without
me? Chicken Little, now, I wouldn’t mind being quit of her, but she
grips me so. Intransigent complex, obsession, idée fixe, whatever;
I’m more interested in what it means than what it’s called.
If I were fifty years younger and half as scrupulous, I’d start a
religion. Or a cult, more likely. I’d aim to squeeze the poor and dispossessed,
those most vulnerable. I’d hire someone with a commanding
presence to go on prime time television in a black robe
and cry out, HALLELUJAH!!! Ms. Little came to earth to save yo’
SOULS! The sky was fallin’ then and it still is! Don’ you hear
them clouds clappin’? Frien’s, they is gettin’ ready t’ FALL!! An’
when they falls, you don’ wanna be unda them, do you? Now, how
you gonna ‘scape a fallin’ cloud o’ horror and hell-fire damnation?
Well frien’s, all you gotta do is BELIEVE!—man, woman ‘n’ chil’,
you gotta believe in the worda Ms. Little!! And jus’ what’s all that
about, you ask, just what’s this l’il Ms. Little got that you ain’t got
and ain’t never had? Well, I’m here to tell ya what she got that you
ain’t; I’m here to tell ya WHAT SHE GOT that you ain’ NEVER
HAD. And that’s SOUL! Brothers ‘n’ sisters, the soula Ms. Little is
available to alla you, no single man, woman or chil’ gonna go without.
It’s a BIG SOUL an’ a piece of it’s there for the askin’. All
you gotta do is BELIEVE!—Come forth now, march right up, don’
be shy, she loves ya all and nobody gonna be left out who truly BE-
LIEVES! An’ out there in the big wide worl’, I hear ya, ya wanna
come up the aisle like these true believers, on’y ya ain’t here! So
how you too gonna be saved? Well, I’m here to tell ya, ya gonna be
saved jus’ the same when ya send yo’ MONEY! Ms. Little ain’ no
high hoss up on no hill; she ain’ makin’ you come to her, she gonna
‘cept yo’ true belief from WHERE YOU IS!! . . .
I couldn’t do that now, of course. Thanks to analysis for that. It
brought my chickens home to roost, so to speak. It put an end to all
sorts of delusions, like the belief that I knew what I was doing; that
I could survive alone; that I could grow, feeding only on myself;
that I was particularly different. Hasn’t all been roses, though. Lost
a few angels as well as devils. Just when you get hold of a really
good fantasy, reality hits you in the eye. Isn’t that the shits. Still, I
don’t trip over myself as much.