I’ve written about compartmentalization in at least one previous post. In the post entitled ‘Compartmentalization‘, the emphasis was on my watercolor of a sagittal section of a brain that appeared to be subdivided into different chambers, or compartments. (Note: Although the brain actually does have chambers, or ventricles, within, I was not referring to them.) I’m sure that in previous posts, I mentioned compartmentalization as my way of coping with disagreeable emotions, but they were not revealed when I searched for them.
My definition of compartmentalization:
Simple Version (I) – think of something else. For instance, if a loved one is in the hospital, marvel at the equipment in the room. When talking to the doctor or nurse, only listen to the positive points. If the chances of a positive outcome are slim, think that they are indeed the only possible outcome.
Simple Version (II) – stuff it down. If there is a psychic equivalent to quickly swallowing bitter medicine without tasting it, do it. It is just like meditation. If it is a bad vibe, let it go. Don’t think about it. Don’t even bother preparing a compartment for it.
More complicated version: Like a memory palace, prepare compartments wherein you are comfortable. Equip them with libraries of interesting and esoteric facts about which that particular compartment is concerned. Seek refuge there when related, unpleasant matters are in the air.
My sleeping head is dreaming. The dream bubble is constructed with a maze of compartments. As in previous watercolors this week, I make use of the transition of red to blue to span the balloon that is my dream. The red-to-blue transition in my recent watercolors (Epilog, This is not a Pipe or a Fountain) represent the oxygen carrying capabilities of the blood. The red color indicates a lot of oxygen, the blue, oxygen depletion. The lungs are the engines of replenishment of oxygen, the kidneys and liver, the organs that rid the blood of toxins. These visual references to physiology refer to the neatly tucked-away compartment that contains my mother, currently on life support.
Between the red and blue fields of color superimposed on the compartments, is a bolt of lightning that rips through them, representing the imminent failure of my compartmentalization system.