Ethel’s groundbreaking psychiatry research argues that human fantasy should be understood as one of our major modes of adaptation. That the culture shouldn’t make us pay a terrible price for the things we imagine.
After all, at the heart of every fantasy is a germ of frustration and, therefore, a desire for change. And so, the force of fantasy can transmute our visions into personal healing and even world changing actualities.
As someone who’s always had a hyperactive imagination, this philosophy about fantasy makes me feel less alone in the world. Like I’m not crazy or deviant or sick for all the movies playing inside my head, no matter how poorly written, badly directed and cheaply produced they are.
It’s like my favorite therapist says:
There are no bad thoughts, no bad feelings, only healthy and unhealthy ways of expressing them.
It’s empowering as hell. Knowing our conscious fantasies are private property, feeling proud of the bizarre places our brains take us, and then feeling cleansed for having imagined, it’s literally the stuff dreams are made of.
Robbins said it best in his colorful and hilarious autobiography:
From the beginning, imagination has been my wild card, my skeleton key, my servant, my master, my bat cave, my home entertainment center, my flotation device, my syrup of wahoo; and I plan to stick with it to the end, whenever and however that end might come, and whether or not there is another act to follow.
LET ME ASK YA THIS…
Are you feeling guilty about journeying to the far off island inside your mind?
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That Guy with the Nametag
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