If truth be told, however, I am not sure how much of Bob's originals ended up in the final episode…

In their native soil of possibility and pure potentiality, the archetypes of the collective unconscious are the nocturnal creatures of nightmarish fantasy...

‘My son, be warned! Neither soar too high, lest the sun melt the wax; nor swoop too low, lest the feathers be wetted by the sea.’

Asking the fundamental question of being in our own times, we face the gaping existential blindspot of our absolute historicity, the unconscious framework of the collective, which prevents us from properly knowing ourselves or our “place in history.”

As a living myth in its time, the myth of Daedalus and Icarus is embedded in a broader cultural matrix that interweaves myth and history into the collective fabric of civilization.

From time immemorial, in the highlands of Mesoamerica, the spectacle of the winter solstice, this most sacred of rising dawns, has offered a precise point of spiritual concentration and reflection on the nature of being in time.

Attempting to trace my own “path to bliss” cannot be a self-centered affair. Every individual decision and risk I take reverberates in the life of the collective that supports me. An authentic path, therefore, can never be a question of isolated “personal responsibility.”

“When a form of art is primarily personal it deserves to be treated as if it were a neurosis.” – C. G. Jung