Orientation
A wound that never closes is a way of staying near the gods. James Hillman reads the puer’s bleeding this way in “Senex & Puer”: the thin skin, the defenselessness against every pointed instrument, discloses not weakness but proximity to the divine, an archetypal structure rather than a symptom to be dressed and forgotten. His direction is vertical, Hillman insists elsewhere, in “A Blue Fire”: ideas fall in as gifts from above or sprout like dactyls from the ground, never arriving by the horizontal plod of ordinary time, and he grounds this mythologically in Kairos, Pothos, and Eros, each a face of puer consciousness. Liz Greene and Howard Sasportas, working from the consulting room and the chart, find underneath the puer’s erotic restlessness a mystical longing no embodied lover can satisfy. Donald Kalsched, treating trauma clinically, endorses Hillman’s core structural claim: archaic images arrive paired, not solitary, so the puer cannot be read apart from senex without falsifying it. To call the wound immaturity, on this reading, is to miss what it protects.