The Oregon Coast on Catwings

with Ursula K. Le Guin

As a Psychology major in college—which was over inconceivable ten years ago, I can say that my little curiosity radar has been beeping at any mention to Jung and his theory of Synchronicity maybe every single day. Beep.

That alone would justify my being drawn to writers who embedded Jungian symbolism into their work. As much as the line of universal human experience runs through every individual’s heart, synchronicities make a mark on each of my days.

In simpler words, a hell of a lot of cool, inexplicable events that seem wildly coincidental and arguably random, seem to happen to me nearly everyday.

I’ve told you about my meeting with

Chuck Palahniuk

last week. You can read it here. Jung would be proud. Textbook synchronicity, right there.

Well, another story that wouldn’t do as fiction, because it’s unbelievable, was about how I finally broke into Ursula K. Le Guin’s work as I drove down the Oregon coast, at moments feeling as if I had wings and glided south, with the pacific breeze kissing my right cheek, looking for a warmer place to be.

My first contact with Ursula’s name was through Chuck, a couple of years ago. Suprise, surprise. In his book, which I translated into Brazilian Portuguese, he mentions some advice she had given him in the past.

Obviously, I had to read this writer, whom my teacher respected enough to write about and pass their advice on. At some point.

And that point was when I was browsing for Oregon’s writers and their audiobooks so I could listen to them on my drive down the coast. I want to do something like that for each state I go through.

Whenever I can, I like to hear the author’s narration of their stories. It’s as close to how they wanted the words to sound together when they wrote, for the most part. It’s the kind of audiobook I’m here for.

Since Ursula was already on my radar, I figured I would look her up. Yes, one of the first things on her bio is about the influence of Jung. Beep, beep, Jung.

And, to no surprise, since she died in 2018, lots of her interviews and speeches are available on Youtube. Hearing lots of hours of her wise and calming voice would be no problem.

Out of all of her books, however, she’s only narrated a few. Her own translation of Lao Tzu: Tao Te Ching, A Book about the Way and the Power of the Way, and a series of children’s books called Catwings.

The narration is only 25 minutes long, since it’s a children’s book, and my library had all of them available to borrow. Easy.

Now, remember I was staying at my friends’ house before I left for my trip? I offered to pick the kids up from school when they needed. And as I downloaded Catwings into my account, I thought that A, who’s seven years old, might like to listen to this with me.

And that’s when Jung would be shedding tears of joy at seeing such an exquisite example of how connected we all are.

When I got to A’s school that day, she ran to grab her backpack and came back with a folded piece of paper.

What was inside rendered me speechless for a moment, to A’s amusement.

And I could try to write my thoughts down, to explain to you how does it feel when the Universe winks at you, and it does so through a child… I could babble about how such a meaningful connection between two people feels as magical as mind reading…

But there was none of that.

All I could think was:

Jung, you freaking beautiful golden scarab of a man.

You did it again.

I’ll have more to say about Catwings and its impact on me. Let’s just say, tears came down my face more than once. And I couldn’t have picked better company to start this journey, in which I am just like the Catwings, looking for a new home.

But, more like the Owl in the story, I tend to think slow, but I also think looong.

Goodbye for now,

Cris

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More to come about the Oregon Coast. For now, here are some pictures:

Some of the amazing views along the Highway 101 in Oregon