An Brief Introduction to Jungian Analytical Psychology

The Unconscious

Jungian psychology is based upon the premise that the psyche—the sum total of human consciousness—is real. The psyche is composed of two main areas: consciousness and the unconscious. Consciousness is a relatively small part of the psyche ruled by the ego. The unconscious, by contrast, is a much larger area of psychic reality characterized by its mysterious quality which always remains, on one level, entirely unknowable. C. G. Jung explained that the unconscious surrounds consciousness on all sides while Jolande Jacobi likened its depth and breadth to an inner cosmos which is as infinite as the outer one. The unconscious is, furthermore, intrinsically creative—it spontaneously generates images. Jung called this imaginal capacity of the psyche its myth-making function, for the unconscious is a creative storyteller, a transpersonal (nonhuman) realm teeming with potential life, as opposed to being only a repository for forgotten and repressed contents, as Freud believed. It is a living field of reality complete with its own autonomy typically manifested in symbolic and metaphorical primordial images that are inherent to its structure.

Structural and Psychodynamic Aspects of the Psyche

The potential for life contained in the unconscious is actualized through certain structural and psychodynamic realities such as complexes and archetypes. Jung defined complexes as clusters of feeling-toned images that congregate around a central (archetypal) nucleus such as “Mother.” A complex is formed when a traumatic event tears asunder two parts of ourselves creating a fringe or splinter identity with its own energetic reality, its own autonomy, and an uncanny ability to absorb the ego into itself causing a state of possession experienced as a temporary alteration of personality. Complexes are therefore typically distinguished by the disturbances and symptoms they cause in the normal functioning of conscious processes. Jacobi connects complexes to the teleological thrust of the psyche by pointing out that complexes must be raised up into consciousness and assimilated so that a redistribution of psychic energy (libido) takes place. In this way, complexes exert a generative influence upon the psyche, using an autonomous existence manifested (through personified form) in dreams to drum up a relational field between ego and the unconscious. Complexes are thus the building blocks of consciousness, carriers of psychic energy, holders of images and their symbolic content.

Fundamentally, complexes are emotional psychic creatures distinguished by their high affectivity, for their meaning is contained in the feeling function which remains opaque in the face of intellectual regard. It is important to mention, however, that for Jung, complexes were not only manifestations of pathological states (as they were for Freud) but also intrinsic to the psychology of healthy individuals. The nodal point of the complex, arising as it does from the realm beyond, is never pathological, but primordial and universal, for complexes arise out of the archetypes of the collective unconscious. Archetypes belong to the collective unconscious while complexes belong to the personal unconscious, which is where an archetype puts on the clothing of a personal content with specific significance for the individual encountering it.

Jung insisted that archetypes “as such”—which he saw as a priori psychological instincts that condition conscious apprehension—cannot be exactly defined for their nature is utterly mysterious and unknowable. This is because they abide in the collective unconscious which is a suprapersonal realm that lies beyond conscious rational understanding. They can only be known through their effects which manifest in metaphorical and symbolic images observed in dreams, fantasies, visions, mythology, and fairy tales. Archetypes possess a numinous power which, when translated into an imaginal experience in the conscious psyche, exerts a tremendous influence that, in effect, causes certain specific behaviors to arise. Archetypes are structural conditioning factors, autonomous, unalterable, and fundamental to the psyche. They are dynamic, alive, numinous, fascinating, powerful, mysterious, and, above all, as Jung insists, ambivalent. Archetypes take recognizable form only when they come into contact with the personal unconscious and its contents at which point they manifest in symbols. Classic Jungian complexes and archetypes defined as structural elements of the psyche are called Ego, Persona, Shadow, Anima/Animus, and the Self.

Phenomenal and Experiential Aspects of the Psyche

Jung has said that archetypes are akin to actionable psychic organizations which means that they have a role to play in the creation of consciousness. This has to do with what Jung has called the teleological aspect of the psyche—its inherent need to move toward a goal, which is the synthesis of conscious and unconscious realms into a state of equilibrium where the centering unit of consciousness, the ego, is grounded in and informed by the more profound centering unit of the total psyche—the archetype of the Self. To achieve this wholesome state of consciousness, which is what Jung called individuation, the objective psyche spontaneously generates symbolic images in order to communicate its intentions and needs to the conscious sphere. For life to be complete, external life must correspond with the imaginal and metaphorical version of it taking place on a symbolic level in the psyche. A sort of dialectic process therefore unfolds between conscious and unconscious spheres of psychic reality with symbols acting as the connecting bridge. Symbols shuttle the unknowns of the deep objective psyche into the realm of consciousness using images. Jungian images are not restricted to visual styles but encompass any spontaneous emanation from the deep psyche which can take the form of thoughts, ideas, emotions and affects, visions, sudden insights and inspirations, creative output of any kind, dreams, and rituals, to name a few. By interacting with these symbolic images through methods (reintroduced by Jung) such as active imagination, dreamwork, and ritual, the conscious ego is opened up to a broader level of consciousness as more and more unconscious knowledge comes up into the light of day, as it were, and becomes integrated into conscious awareness. This is what is meant by the idea of wholeness.

These dynamic psychological phenomena are experienced in personal life through the advent of our creative and emotional lives. It is as if we become aware of other persons, emotional beings, exerting an autonomous influence over us in the form of strange, inexplicable moods, sudden flashes of rage or sadness, melancholic ideas about the past or future, and creative abilities such as fluency with writing or painting or dance. But perhaps the most ubiquitous experience of the symbolic output of the psyche takes place each night when we enter the world of dreams. Dreams and their counterparts, myths, fairy tales, and poetry are essentially the symbolic language of the psyche writ large. It is through meaningful dialogue with this language and its speakers that we enlarge and expand the otherwise limited realm of consciousness. The images enrich our lives with meaning, endowing us with secret knowledge from beyond the limited human realm, which brings with it the numinous power of renewal, regeneration, and the fecundity inherent in transpersonal nature.

The Relationship Between Instinct and Spirit

In his investigations into the nature of archetypal phenomena, Jung needed to distinguish between instinctual behavioral patterns such as those we share with animals, and psychological patterns that appear to be only psychic. To this end he devised a model that put the total psyche, conscious and unconscious, on a scale with two opposite poles—on one end there is the purely physiological realm of instinct, on the other, the purely psychic, or spiritual, realm of archetypes. Consciousness can slide between these two extremes, taking on the qualities of one or the other. When consciousness has merged with the purely instinctual pole—the pole which Jung designates with the color infrared—an individual can be overcome by passions of the body such as overeating or pathological sexual drives. In the other extreme, when consciousness has merged with the purely spiritual (archetypal) pole—designated by the color ultraviolet—an individual may be persuaded that they are the lord savior or remain possessed by some other fanatical form of spiritual conviction. Jung believed that while spirit and instinct are polar opposites, they nevertheless exist together in a symbiotic and fruitful form of correspondence which, through tension producing dynamics in the psyche, generate the psychic energy needed for life, a dynamic Jung identified as the transcendent function. Spirit and instinct are thus contaminated with one another and are correlates that, in a sense, connect psyche with matter. Jacobi helpfully compares an archetype to the psychic aspect of brain structure and explains that instinct determines and regulates biological functioning while archetype determines and regulates psychological functioning. At either extreme end of the spectrum, there is the psychoid realm, which is a transpersonal dimension beyond the matter/psyche duality where archetypes as spiritual, nonorganic entities connect with physiological instincts and essentially become the same thing, thereby enacting the well-known alchemical image of an uroboros.

The Complex As Psychic Generator

It seems clear that, as humans, we all feel the reality of the psyche every day of our lives. We feel it in our inexplicable protean moods, we feel it in our frightening moments of uncontrollable rage, we feel it when we start to get tense in the solar plexus and begin trying to control or dominate the situation with our words and actions, we feel it at times of numinous ecstasy when we encounter real love, real beauty, or real kindness. We face the reality of the psyche every night in our dreams whether we “believe” in dreams or not. We are surrounded on all sides by products of the psyche in writing, poetry, dance, art, films, science, astrology, sports, music. All of us, regardless of race, class, or gender experience the vicissitudes of oceanic emotions, sparks of genius, flashes of insight, and sudden intuitive knowledge. In his deep explorations into these universally experienced phenomena, C. G. Jung explained that the psyche is composed of a multitude of separate parts that are not necessarily connected to one another nor to the ego but which are entirely independent structures. He called these independent psychic entities “autonomous complexes.” 

The complex is generally viewed as something negative (a bad father complex, for example, or an inferiority complex) but it would appear that all the wonderful and creative products of the psyche mentioned above actually emanate from the depths of these psychic entities known as complexes. One need only look at the immense creativity of one’s dreams to see the level of activity and power contained in the complex. Like the archetypes who ultimately parent them, complexes have multiple faces and cannot be considered only negative. In fact, Jung believed that complexes are holders and carriers of psychic energy in the same way that red blood cells are the carriers of oxygen. With regard to personal complexes, he wrote that “the personal unconscious . . . contains complexes that belong to the individual and form an intrinsic part of his psychic life” (Jung, 1948/1969, p. 231, [CW8] para. 590). Intrinsic means to belong naturally or be essential to something so the complex is crucially important to psychic life and not something to be got rid of which is usually the ego’s first response to anything discomfiting. 

This is not to say that complexes are never problematic because they are, particularly when personal complexes grow, evolve, and are passed down from generation to generation in the form of familial, and even cultural complexes. The trouble with the complex is that it exists independently from the ego and is therefore totally unconscious. Its status as an unconscious content does not strip it of any of its power, however. The complex continues to wield enormous power over the ego and when it is passed down into a family and further on, into a community, it can operate as an intractable belief system (all Muslims are terrorists), a tradition (Christians are infidels), or a firmly held bias (whites are superior to non-whites). Once again, the complex possesses a high degree of autonomy for it is “the image of a certain psychic situation which is strongly accentuated emotionally,” it has “a powerful inner coherence” and “its own wholeness” (Jung, 1948/1969, p.79, [CW8] para. 201). In other words, it has its own psychic power and operates independently of our will. Because of its emotional charge and its ability to completely usurp the awareness and control of the conscious ego, the complex, especially when constellated on a broader cultural level, can be a very dangerous impetus for collective ignorance and mass violence, a reality that is painfully clear in the many atrocities humanity has wreaked upon itself in the name of some higher cause. 

My vocation is to one day become a learned depth psychologist and sometimes mystic who ultimately seeks to know the truth of reality. The study of complexes is therefore highly significant for my professional and personal development since first, it is what Jung intended to call his entire psychology which means it is very important to the entire Jungian project, and second, since I and the entire species struggle with the reality and autonomous power of complexes every day. Depth psychology is ultimately the study of the soul and how it works. To my mind, this knowledge is what brings one closer to being on the road to genuine self-discovery and to dutifully and humbly following the very serious edict of the oracle of Delphi which encourages us all to “know thyself.” Only this level of self-knowledge can alter the power of unconscious complexes and channel it toward the greater good. 

Jung, C. G. (1969). A review of the complex theory (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (Vol. 8, 2nd ed.). Retrieved from http://www.proquest.com (Original work published 1948) 

Jung, C. G. (1969). The psychological foundations of belief in spirits (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (Vol. 8, 2nd ed.). Retrieved from http://www.proquest.com (Original work published 1948) 

Ever Deeper Core of Meaning

Myths . . . are accessible collective narratives containing densely coded symbols and archetypes that can awaken stage-specific dynamic interplay between instinct and archetype.

—Maren T. Hansen, An evaluation case study of a myth class to stimulate identity development for early adolescents

     C. G. Jung taught that images are spontaneous irruptions from the deep psyche that can manifest in a variety of forms which are not limited only to visual images but can also appear as emotions, thoughts, fantasies, and daydreams. These psychic products are furthermore symbolic, meaning they contain hidden knowledge which the psyche is attempting to convey to the conscious sphere, whether this conscious sphere is that of an individual's or that of an entire society. In the context of “densely coded” symbolic images being conveyed to an entire society, the imaginal language of films, books, poems, fairy tales, myths, and a variety of visual and performing art forms such as music, dance, and religious ritual allow us to sound the depths of the psyche in order to understand the messages it has for us. 

     What we have learned during our course is that these symbolic images are imaginal stand-ins for the immense variety of psychological experiences we encounter during the span of one lifetime. Each image—whether it’s an overwhelming irruption of sorrow, a nasty moment of jealousy, or a drawn picture of a caged bird—is a symbol which represents an inner psychological event. Usually, the images that are spontaneously produced and the images we are drawn to at any given moment are reflective of the current cycle of psychological growth and development while throughout the vast pantheon of imaginal material produced by the human psyche we find images and narratives that tell the story of different stages of psychological experience. These are then grouped into types of myth and types of books and types of art, all of which reflect certain psychological and archetypal characteristics and processes. 

     All of us are living our lives from within the inner parameters of these different psychological cycles so that the stories in myths and fairytales, and their counterparts found in the art world and especially in the world of films, can help us to identify which stage we are in. These stage-specific narratives thus contain a great deal of information for how best to navigate that particular section of the psychological road. The overall goal, at least according to countless myths and fairytales, and according to depth psychology, is individuation, which is the process whereby the sphere of consciousness and the much larger and more powerful sphere of the unconscious form a symbiotic harmony, what has been termed the Ego/Self axis. This harmony is only achieved at a great price, namely, the price of enduring great psychological disharmony and suffering, for it is the continual defeat of the ego in the face of the much larger and transpersonal powers of the unconscious that slowly polishes the soul into a vibrant jewel. The quest for individuation and the seemingly never-ending obstacles faced on this quest are often symbolized in the myth of the hero’s journey, most notably articulated by mythologist Joseph Campbell. 

     My vocation—the calling of my soul—is to become a theoretical archetypal psychologist and a scholar. For me, the application of learned material to my own psychological life for the purpose of psychic research and to gain an ever deeper knowledge of the intricate and mysterious workings of the psyche is of paramount importance. In this sense, knowing the way myths and fairytales and films identify inner dynamics and show them to us through the use of symbolic images is of immense value. In this course, I have learned that images are not only symbolic but that they carry a moving, dynamic core of meaning which, when deciphered, explodes open our usual narrow ego perspectives.

And so, onward!

One Ring To Rule Them All

Lord of the Rings (1954) presents a multivalent universe of characters, ideas, and myths—it is quintessentially polytheistic. But what about Sauron? He is a man with one plan, one vision (the single eye), one definition, one idea—one ring. The others have many rings and plans and lands and insignia and cultural bents. The others are all different, with different histories, different proclivities, different physiognomies, foods, customs, and traditions, a veritable archetypal panoply. But Sauron wants to rule over them, bring them all together and “in the darkness bind them.” Why? Because “the logic of monotheism attempts to override” particularities; it focusses on “a single and empty abstraction that can contain all things” (Hillman, 2013, p. 157). Sauron wants to obliterate the multiplicities and replace them with the one vision. This is the way of the ego, too, in each of our lives. 

The danger of literalizing transforms a mother complex vis a vis the son, enforcing a degeneration of puer consciousness into the overcoming/subservient hero/ego. The mother as Great Goddess when made literal becomes the monotheistic complex, the one drive (one ring to rule them all) that defines all subsequent behavior. Yet the son, the hero, the puer, and the mother each contain and point to multitudes of possibilities for “the archetypes do not so much rule realms of being as they, like the gods, rule all at once and together the same realm of being” (Hillman, 2013, p. 127). There can simply be no son, hero, puer, or mother existing independently from one another. They coexist simultaneously as do all the gods, all the complexes, all the afflictions. Attributing values to archetypes is a fantasy of the ego (p. 111) and serves to dislocate the vision of experience inside a relic consciousness now solidified because of being “condemned to a single view” (p. 127). 

Hillman, J. (2013). Archetypal psychology. Uniform edition of the writings of James Hillman vol. 1. Putnam, CT: Spring Publications. 

Hillman, J. (2013). Senex and puer. Uniform edition of the writings of James Hillman vol. 5. Putnam, CT: Spring Publications. 

Imaginal Foundations of Life Itself

I was writing yesterday about images, those spontaneous irruptions from the deep psyche, and what I feel I have learned about them thus far. I was concentrating on their linguistic attributes and how they convey meaning. Then, I thought about how they are symbolic—they relay hidden messages by functioning as portals between conscious and unconscious spheres. Just as I was considering this, an image from a sort of Red Book of my own that I made back in 1998 popped into my head (see attached). And that instantly caused me to write that images “know something we don’t” which is why they insist, urge, and demand. Jung explained that psychological experience cannot be separated from images. In his own words, “everything of which we are conscious is an image. Image is psyche” (Jung, 1929/1967, p. 54, CW13 para. 75). Images are thus vehicles for conscious action, as the example above demonstrates. They come on to us like flirtatious lovers or else haunt and bedevil us until we take notice. Even when we don’t take notice, they still lead the way. 

I am learning how this imaginal realm works in writing and research. I can now see that a multitude of energetic and powerful creative forces are working alongside me to produce mundane things like sentence structure and prophetic and cosmic and transcendental things like archetypal order and the union of opposites. I am starting to recognize that depth psychological inquiry involves an exquisite network of ideas, thoughts, and emotions (images) that fuse together in a collaborative dance of creation, and that this is how new knowledge is formed and birthed into the world. This sort of research and writing is creative and soulful, it honors the depths and the inevitable paradoxes and ambiguities. An imaginal approach to inquiry, research, and knowledge is, therefore, more yielding and less authoritatively reasonable or logical for the images cannot abide in logic. They are inherently erotic. It is up to the researcher to translate them into a language which brings cohesive fusion to eros and logos dynamics in writing. 

Jung believed in a teleological psyche—a soul with a goal—the goal of individuation. He called individuation an “indispensable” ideal and wrote that “the idea at the bottom of this ideal is that right action comes from right thinking, and that there is no cure and no improving of the world that does not begin with the individual himself” (Jung, 1928/1966, p. 226, CW7 para. 373). The road to individuation goes through the imaginal realm where images morph into lived experience, what Wilhelm Dilthey called Erlebnis, an experience that “is not so much a matter of content as an act of consciousness” (Palmer, quoted in Coppin, 2017, p. 70). Here, again, is the notion that the image is the enactor of consciousness itself so that lived experience is necessarily a psychological phenomenon. For me, this idea is of paramount importance because my interest lies in uncovering the truth of reality. Since there can be no felt or lived experience without images, then things outside of me have no reality, not unless I live and experience them through my images first. We can only experience life—lived experience—by imagining ourselves into it. In this way, life, research, knowledge, love, hate—all of it is mythical, it is all a story told by the imaginative, myth-making psyche. I think a tragedy is this mythical (imaginal) life lived literally, without any consciousness of the power and autonomy of the images, their role in the creation of consciousness, and our dependence upon them for meaning and comprehension. 

Writing and research are thus deeply rooted in the imaginal dimension of lived experience. I think that comprehension of research methodologies, APA formatting, sentence structure, and dissertation writing all depend upon a healthy recognition of this fact. All aspects of scholarship are enhanced by a researcher’s strong existential foundation in the imaginal realm. 

Jung, C. G. (1967). Commentary on The secret of the golden flower (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (Vol. 13). Retrieved from http://www.proquest.com(Original work published 1929) 

Jung, C. G. (1966). The relations between the ego and the unconscious (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (Vol. 7, 2nd ed., pp. 121–241). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1928) 

Nelson, E. & Coppin, J. (2017). The art of inquiry. A depth psychological perspective. Thompson, CT: Spring Publications. 

Us And Them

In his essay, “The Spiritual Problem of Modern Man,” Jung called being “unhistorical” the ultimate “Promethean sin.” (Jung, 1931/1970, p. 69 CW 10 para. 153). In other words, a great deal of hubris lurks in the fateful untethering of individual, culture, and psyche from the grounding fecundity of history and tradition.

There are similarities between this idea and the one-sided promotion of individuality which unfolded in the social structures of the last few centuries. The division between self and other found literally in the separation of rich from poor, black from white, male from female; spiritually, in the extreme segregation between man and nature; and psychologically, in the way the “mentally able” were privileged over sensitive dissenters, is in direct proportion to the power of the state to control and manipulate. After all, united we stand, divided we fall.

Abandoning a holistic, multifaceted approach in favor of strict individualism destroyed many possibilities for social equality across all frontiers. This loss of wholeness clearly gave rise to the dominant neurotic features of today’s individual psyche, neuroses which are now “. . . accepted as fact and product of modern existence . . . ” (Jansz, 2004, p. 121). The collective psyche is now chained to the rocks where each day its liver is eaten out by a rabid bird—even, perhaps, by “the Aryan bird of prey” (Jung, 1931/1970, p. 80 CW 10 para. 190), reincarnated and embodied today in Global Corporate Consumer Capitalism. We are unconsciously paying for the hubris of self-obsessive individualization—devoured alive each day by our fears and anxieties.

Unfortunately, "psychology firmly fixed widespread beliefs about the fundamental inequality of races” (Jansz, 2004, p. 180), and appears to have been weaponized for furthering destructive attitudes, adding fuel to the fire of “Us versus Them,” and helping to justify policies of imperialism.

Thank goodness for depth psychology!

Jansz, J. & van Drunen, P. (2004). A social history of psychology. Blackwell Publishing. Malden: MA.

Jung, C. G. (1970). The spiritual problem of modern man (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (Vol. 10, 2nd ed., pp. 74-94). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. (Original work published 1931)

Unfolding A Life In Work

DJA700, “Introduction to Depth Psychology,” provided me with a historic foundation upon which to build my future academic work in Jungian and Archetypal Psychology. While I did not find all of the material equally inspiring, I was nevertheless deeply engaged. The first two modules gave me a look at the ancient shamanic roots of depth psychology and the origin of the word mesmerize. I also learned how the scientific and industrial revolutions led to a preponderance of psychological disorders which gave birth to depth psychology.

We moved on to study the three great founders of depth psychology—Freud, Adler, and Jung. We learned about Freud’s insistence that sexual energy lies at the center of all psychic activity and that it alone is responsible for the creation of the unconscious, since that is where the psyche must deposit all its sexually charged shame and other repressed materials. Adler taught that the well being of the human psyche is tied to a holistic approach to an individual as situated within society and within social equity. Adler felt that inferiority/superiority complexes were instrumental in causing psychic malaise. Then, of course, there is Jung. He is my hero and no matter how often people go on about his romantic misadventures, I still find his work to be supremely illuminating and of extreme relevance to our current world troubles. Jung espoused a vision of the psyche that includes the personal unconscious, the broader collective unconscious, and a number of inhabitants, features, and psychic proclivities which populate and animate psychic existence, all of which exert a formative influence upon our daily lives.

Later, we learned about the social implications of rapidly spreading psychological practices and saw some of the corrosive, diabolical methods for inequitable social engineering that psychology was used for, especially in the post modern world. In the last two weeks we studied Ken Wilbur and his Integral Psychology, which, for me at least, requires a great deal more than one week of study to be understood. Finally, we did our best to decipher Susan Rowland’s views on Jungian psychology by studying Jung’s prose with its invisible peaks and valleys—the expressions of the unconscious embedded in his words and sentences. “Jung believed and wrote as though he believed that the thinking and discriminating mind—conventionally used to produce non-fictional argument—was situated within a sea of unconscious creativity” (Rowland, 2005, p. 1). In other words, the unconscious was also doing the writing, and Jung let it do so.

My favorite part of the class happened when I discovered Gustav Fechner’s The Little Book of Life After Death, in which, among many other moments of beauty, he postulates the development of human consciousness and its evolution into an angelic eventuality. This further cemented my personal attachment to the Romantic ground of depth and archetypal psychology, with Keats’s profound notion of life as “the vale of soul-making.”

My work is still amorphous and unknowable, like the archetypes. I am in the middle of a creative journey and cannot know yet what the outcome will be. The history of depth psychology and its many permutations is a snapshot of academic work as creative work. I’m able to see the knowledge which developed out of the discovery of the unconscious, and I’m able to take inspiration from its serpentine progression. All our forebears in this work, people like Jung, Freud, Fechner, Adler, Whitmont, von Franz, Mesmer, Edinger, Hillman, Rowland, Mayes and countless others have each expressed a life in work, exhibiting the way a vocation unfolds into a realized vision. For me, this means that I must simply continue putting one academic foot in front of the other, paying careful attention to every step, and taking special notice of the numinous moments along the way when a certain idea takes hold of me and doesn’t let go. In this way, I hope to unfold a life in work as a writer, an artist, and a scholar.

Hubris, Sacrifice, and Living the Religious Life

The never-ending school shootings are the unconscious sacrifice and American Exceptionalism as embodied in the Second Amendment, the so-called infallibility of the Founding Fathers, and the Constitution—is the hubris.

I’m more excited about the second part of the lecture--that subtler level of sacrifice and its practical application in everyday life. This is where we can develop “. . . that stability which human existence acquires when the claims of the spirit become as imperative as the necessities of social life” (Jung, CW 10, para. 190) [Italics mine].

The correct relationship of hubris to sacrifice is exactly that of the ego to the Self. There is a healthy way and a destructive way, and the healthy way unequivocally requires sacrificing the ego to the Self, again, and again, and again.

Strange moods, dark forebodings, irrational sorrows, sudden, unmistakeable intuitions, creative outpourings, the immensity of our dreams—these are the “significant” parts of “psychic life” that “always” lie “below the horizon of consciousness,” for “when we speak of the spiritual problem of modern man, we are speaking of things that are barely visible—of the most intimate and fragile things, of flowers that open only in the night” (Jung, CW 10, para. 194).

Sacralizing average moments in the day by surrendering egoic inclinations in favor of nurturing “the restorative possibilities in embracing the dark, underworld of shadow and dream” (Slater, nd, p. 114)—this is what it means to live a religious life.

Each morning, I write down my dreams. Each day, I honor the shadow (sad songs, angry, passionate drawings), 10, 20, 30 times a day I check in with myself: Where is my attention going? Who is in charge right now?

I finally know what Krishnamurti meant when he said you must die to your Self.

Blood Bond

The immediate value of dreams doesn’t come from explaining them, analyzing them, or following their overt or covert suggestions. It lies in re-entering them, living inside them, tasting and chewing them, until they become incorporated into the fabric of our waking hours (Lipsky, 2008, p. 14). 

When our course first began, this quote from our reading seemed abstract to me. It contained a promise that had yet to unveil itself, like a gift. I thought dreams were to be understood and utilized for personal gain and advancement of growth. Dreams were the powerful work animal and I was to harness them with my goals so that together, we’d super-quest and super-charge the individuation journey. But as I began the sincere work of keeping a new dream journal for class, I started to apply the coursework to my day-to-day dream interactions with exciting and disconcerting and dichotomous, paradoxical results. At every turn, I found alterations and mood swings and simultaneous explosions of exaltation and emotional destitution. The more I worked with my dreams, the more they resisted my ego’s greedy, acquisitive approach until I finally let go of the harness. At last, an organic, untethered way of the dream emerged of its own accord. Significant and astonishing was how letting go of the acquisitive approach permeated my entire consciousness. A corresponding psychological outlook spread across the horizon of my soul the way a few drops of blood beautifully flow and dissolve in water, fusing completely with its molecular structure. I think this is what is meant by re-entering a dream, living inside a dream, tasting and chewing a dream. 

In our course, we learned the craft and methods for dream work and of course, these are very useful. Associations, amplifications, and animation of dream figures, active imagination work, writing and speaking and dreaming in waking hours, developing a profound receptivity to the exceedingly subtle vibrations and messages of the unconscious—all these are powerful tools and important knowledge that I’ve come away with after taking this course. 

I have personally experienced the way dreams work together night after night, month after month, forming a series of linked narratives. What this tells me is that I am living my life in the unconscious in the same way that I am living my life in waking hours. In my dreams, I am growing and changing and evolving. In my dreams I am facing challenges, overcoming obstacles, questing and seeking, trying and giving up. In my dreams, I meet the darkness that cannot be named and also meet the strength and resilience I need to face it. Joseph Campbell says that when the truth is shoved down our throats, we choke on it—as do all people who meet true doctrine. Our course has taught me that my dreams are the true doctrine and sometimes I will choke on this truth. Even so, as it starts to go down, as it begins to be digested and assimilated, the truth of the dream spreads and becomes a powerful life force. It does so of its own accord, this work is not created by “me,” it is not manufactured by “me.” Dreams are real. I emanate outward from my dreams, not they from me. Indeed, this awareness has grown so pronounced that I feel in perfect kinship with Leonard Cohen who says:

Hold on, hold on my brother,
my sister, hold on tight. 
I finally got my orders: 
I’ll be marching through the morning,
marching through the night, 
moving cross the borders
of my secret life. 

For this is how it feels when dreamworld and waking world are fused in a bond of blood. A new, secret life emerges, powered by the prerogatives of the soul, where dreams have been “incorporated into the fabric of our waking hours.” This is where our course and the craft of dreamwork has led me—to a value in dreams that is no longer abstract, but immanent. 

I have crossed the border into a new land. There is no need to look back.

Lipsky, J. (2008). Dreaming together. Larson publications. Burdett:NY.