This reminds me of an important distinction Steve and Pauline Richards from Jung To Live By always make—the difference between harnessing our inherent power of imagination and indulging in its poor surrogate: fantasy.
When I’m in fantasy, I’m in an I-It relationship, treating reality as something to manipulate, dominate, control. Expecting life on my terms.
When life isn’t going the way I think it should, I fall into judgment and victimhood. Stuck, stuck, stuck. I’m saying a big fat NO to life.
And fantasy becomes my only way out.
When I stop negotiating with reality—when I give up the fight, which, in my case, is mostly because I have no fight left—something shifts.
I might not feel better. Trying to feel better is its own tyranny.
I might still be heartbroken, disappointed, uncertain, scared.
But I do stop lying to myself.
In my experience, that’s where most of my suffering lies—not in the pain itself, but in the fight inside.
Lying to myself about the way life is showing up.
In the endless expecting and demanding that things be different than they are.
Wasting life force chasing fantasies.
When I tell myself the truth—however brutal that truth might be—when I say yes to life, exactly as it is, I can finally engage in an I-Thou relationship with reality.
Life on life’s terms, not mine.
And in that moment, something shifts.
It’s impossible to explain. It can only be experienced.
The best word I’d have for it is grace.
Playing the game of life—not as a victim, and not needing to win.
More like alchemy. A space where something new emerges—not through force, but through a dynamic dance of creation.
Fantasy is seeking a way out. And disconnects us from reality. Leads to impotence.
Truth telling and imagination is about discovering a way in. Collaborating with life instead of arguing with it.
This reminds me of an important distinction Steve and Pauline Richards from Jung To Live By always make—the difference between harnessing our inherent power of imagination and indulging in its poor surrogate: fantasy.
When I’m in fantasy, I’m in an I-It relationship, treating reality as something to manipulate, dominate, control. Expecting life on my terms.
When life isn’t going the way I think it should, I fall into judgment and victimhood. Stuck, stuck, stuck. I’m saying a big fat NO to life.
And fantasy becomes my only way out.
When I stop negotiating with reality—when I give up the fight, which, in my case, is mostly because I have no fight left—something shifts.
I might not feel better. Trying to feel better is its own tyranny.
I might still be heartbroken, disappointed, uncertain, scared.
But I do stop lying to myself.
In my experience, that’s where most of my suffering lies—not in the pain itself, but in the fight inside.
Lying to myself about the way life is showing up.
In the endless expecting and demanding that things be different than they are.
Wasting life force chasing fantasies.
When I tell myself the truth—however brutal that truth might be—when I say yes to life, exactly as it is, I can finally engage in an I-Thou relationship with reality.
Life on life’s terms, not mine.
And in that moment, something shifts.
It’s impossible to explain. It can only be experienced.
The best word I’d have for it is grace.
Playing the game of life—not as a victim, and not needing to win.
More like alchemy. A space where something new emerges—not through force, but through a dynamic dance of creation.
Fantasy is seeking a way out. And disconnects us from reality. Leads to impotence.
Truth telling and imagination is about discovering a way in. Collaborating with life instead of arguing with it.