Numina
Written
by Corey Dressel
What if the panoply of various art forms, from
visual iconography to ancient texts, was born out of the chaotic pandemonium of
each artist’s psyche? What if this chaotic psychic pandemonium was the same
cosmic movement constellated in the psyche of all humans, infinitely connecting
us through thought-patterns conceived from the same movement of time as that of
our physical anatomy? There are those
who agree to a theory of psychic life energy and influence, and those who
either deny its existence or have never really thought too hard on the
matter. It is the job of the
psychologist to examine the depths, contents, and movement of the human psyche
and, if you are Carl G. Jung, warn of the detrimental outcomes should one
willingly or unknowingly prescribe to the common misoneistic tendency. Jung believed that the contents of our dreams
reveal these mystic psychic elements to us in a language that is current,
dynamic, involved, and anticipant of an antiphon. This describes a deliberate and willful
awareness that supersedes our extroverted view and sense, which is only possible
by being cognizant of our inner condition and thus experiencing our inner
journey as well as our physical journey; there is not one without the other. There is no sunset without a subsequent
sunrise.
Though
inland far we be, / Our souls have sight of that immortal sea / Which brought
us hither
-William Wordsworth,
“Ode on Intimations of immortality”
We are all driven to feel, think, and do
what we do for a reason. Some may argue
that we are striving to find the meaning of life. I believe we are all looking for an
experience of life, which in itself is meaningful because we are there to be a
part of it. As the world spins, so we
spin too, around our own axis, the axis of our psyche, which includes the
totality of our personality, our body, our soul, and our spirit. Only when your
life experiences imputatively touch these root elements do the experiences of
life actually resonate with meaning. It is in this penetrating type of meaning
that we feel the rapture of life. In The Power
of Myth Joseph Campbell supported this very notion when he said:
People say that
what we are seeking is a meaning of life; I don’t think that is what we are
really seeking. I think that what we’re
seeking is an experience of being alive, so that our life experiences on the
purely physical plane will have resonances within our own innermost being and
reality, so that we actually feel the rapture of being alive. (4-5)
Campbell
is specifically describing an outer experience which resonates deep into the
center of our being; thus, shaping us and literally becoming a part of who we
are. This rapture that Campbell spoke
about is the source of our purpose, our inspiration for the art forms we create,
and the emotional connection we feel upon seeing, reading, or hearing various
art forms. This rapture keeps us alive
and hopeful, spiritual and seeking, and hungry in spite of plentiful sustenance,
while satiated in spite of non-consumption.
Jung says, “The flux and fire of life are not to be underrated and are
absolutely necessary for the achievement of wholeness” (TPJ “Dream Symbolism” 378).
This rapture propels us into the arts, both to create and to absorb. These art forms spawn a familiarity that
resonates deep inside our being without a known reason or cause. Most of us have experienced a scenario where
we glance at a painting and have a sense of loneliness so powerful we are moved
to tears; a time when we have read a book that we feel hit an emotion at the
center of our heart or changed the course of our lives; or a moment of
listening to music that vibrated our bones and seemed to have been written just
for us. Psychologically speaking, this
is the same emotional connection or spark that occurs when any of our senses
are triggered, re-energizing subliminal material into consciousness and/or
calling to an aspect of ourselves ignored or unknown. Perhaps you have smelled a sent that
immediately returned you to a moment in time long since passed, yet seemingly
right before you once again.
Thanks to
the human heart by which we live, / Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and
fears, / To me the meanest flower that blows can give / Thoughts that do often
lie too deep for tears.
-William Wordsworth, “Ode on Intimations of
immortality”
So,
what is it that dwells in the arts and contains so much power over our supposedly
logical emotions, thoughts, and actions? The causal connection between the psyche and
the arts explains the phenomenon that gravitationally pulls at our own psychic
response to consuming the arts. Jung
tells us that great art “has always derived its fruitfulness from myth, from
the unconscious process of symbolization which continues through the ages and,
as the primordial manifestation of the human spirit, will continue to be the
root of all creation in the future” (TUS
59). The contents of our psyche are in
dynamic movement and elucidate this query through images depicted in symbolic
form hidden within the details of not only the arts, but also our dreams. Our dreams play out like the verses of
ancient fairytales and modern movies. We
bear witness to a reoccurring myth-quest as it reveals itself through these
stories from times long gone and places we’ve never been nor known to
exist. Without awareness, our psyche
travels along the same analogous path, constantly circumambulating or
circumventing, depending on our psychic condition.
Upon the exploration of our dreams, we find
ourselves to be the wounded healer of our own condition, and finally our own
mediator between unconscious thought and conscious existence. The
“wound” that is revealed in the story-line (myth-quest) of characters within
literary works is the same wound that we all must overcome in the journey of
our psyche toward the goal of individuation.
We will
grieve not, rather find / Strength in what remains behind; / In the primal
sympathy / Which having been must ever be; / In the soothing thoughts that
spring / Out of human suffering; / In the faith that looks through death, / In
years that bring the philosophic mind.
-William Wordsworth, “Ode on Intimations of
immortality”
Paul Levy, the creator of
the on-line magazine Reality Sandwich,
explains, “Our wound is not a static entity, but rather a continually unfolding
dynamic process that manifests, reveals and incarnates itself through us, which
is to say that our wound is teaching us something about ourselves” (RS). Therefore, in order to become engaged in our
inner condition, the healing process involved in recovering from wounds, and
move toward a place of enlightenment, spiritual awakening, or individuation, we
need to cast our gaze inward and begin to assess a deeper level of our
being. Jung supports this by saying,
“The very fact that through self-knowledge, that is, by exploring our own
souls, we come upon the instincts and their world of imagery should throw some light on the powers slumbering in
the psyche, of which we are seldom aware so long as all goes well” (TUS 58).
The numina presented in dreams are one way of exposing our unconscious
condition. In “Ode on Intimations of
Immortality” Wordsworth poetically sings, “The winds come to me from the fields
of sleep” (l. 28). This is our eyelet
through which we can only begin to grasp a psychological perspective of our
existence.
Jung never posited a theory regarding dream
interpretation that he intended to be a cookie cutter form in which all dreams
were to be shaped for a universally imposed translation. He cautions psychologists and laymen dream analysts
against the use of such universally applied ideologies and practices. Though Jung and Freud agree that the contents
of dreams are comprised of unconscious material, Freud was the first to suggest
that associations derived from conscious experience comprise the contents
within dreams. This means that unconscious material is manifest conscious experience
versus internally forged material (with the exception that Freud acknowledges
the existence of archaic remnants). This creates a clearly defined singular
psychic self, which is the self witnessed and expressed on the exterior (ego
and super ego), which is influenced by our libido (Id), versus the concept of
an innate dichotomous human psyche and existence grounded in an unconscious
interior comprised of collective and personal unconscious material, and
separate from our outer conscious. Jung
does not reject the idea of associative influence, but rather elaborates upon
it, considering Freud’s theory incomplete.
Though the unconscious may be influenced, or contain, associations
derived from our conscious experience, it is false to conclude that
associations are primarily the totality of the unconscious minutia present in
dreams. Rather, Jung asks us to focus on
the manifest dream-statement, circumambulating this language searching for an
interpretation conditional to its owner.
Our birth
is but a sleep and a forgetting; / The Soul that rises with us, our life’s
Star, / Hath had elsewhere its setting / And cometh from afar; / Not in entire
forgetfulness, / And not in utter nakedness, / But trailing clouds of glory do
we come
–William Wordsworth, “Ode on Intimations of
immortality”
Conscious associations shift to the
unconscious when they become deplete of energy or the person has repressed them
due to their traumatic nature. Contrary
to Freud’s notion of the psyche’s nature being tabula rasa, completely empty at birth, Jung describes a psychic
heritage that precedes even the creation, or beginning, of our reflective
consciousness. Reflective consciousness,
ingrained with dramatic emotional experiences followed by negative consequences,
creates a universally predicable outcome in any number of circumstances, impulsively
triggered within the inner depths of the human psyche. The moments in life when
our amygdala (the brain structure responsible for emotional associations) is
triggered results in an unconscious emotional psychic game-play. Damasio, a neuroscientist, claims that his
studies provide compelling evidence that “rationality is dependent upon emotion”
(Atkinson EICT 24). Therefore, in other words, our brain is a
formation of ruts which have been carved out by emotional experiences. We easily slide or fall into these grooves in
the same way that Pavlov’s dog instinctively had an emotional reaction
regardless as to whether the initial stimulus was present or not; this is
referred to as conditioning or association.
In his book Emotion Intelligence, Atkinson
says that triggers are like or similarly perceived situations to those of
emotional distress or the extreme opposite, wherein our amygdala sends out
warning signals that speed through the structures of the brain, in turn
“triggering a cascade of physiological responses, from a speeded-up heart rate
to rising blood pressure to mobilized muscles to the release of the
fight-flight hormones, adrenaline and noradrenaline” (30). The results can be witnessed consciously on the
physical plane, or witnessed in numinous material, coming from our unconscious,
in our dreams. According to Neumann,
“The term ‘numinous’ applies to the action of beings and forces that the
consciousness of primitive man experienced as fascinating, terrible,
overpowering, and that it therefore attributed to an indefinite transpersonal
and divine source” (TGM 5). Thus, dream material is formed after a
pattern imprinted on our unconscious psyche dating back to the origin of
consciousness and continuing to be impressed upon.
Numina are relayed to the conscious through
a language riddled with symbolic images.
The symbolic image speaks with dynamism and purposive effusion. This symbolic representation of potentiality,
referred to as archetypes, is in itself only possible due to their dynamic nature
(active and current), which influence the human psyche such as an instinct
does. Jung posits the theory that archetypal
impulses are “based on a preformed and ever-ready instinctive system with its
own characteristic and universally understandable thought-forms, reflexes,
attitudes, and gestures” (TPJ “ADS”
115-116). Jung offers proof of these
impulses in the spontaneous and absurd dreams, visions, or thoughts that come
to us and seem utterly unexplainable, obscure, and without origin. Neumann adds:
The dynamic action
of the archetype extends beyond unconscious instinct and continues to operate
as an unconscious will that determines the personality, exerting a decisive
influence on the mood, inclinations, and tendencies of the personality, and
ultimately on its conceptions, intentions, interests, on consciousness and the
specific direction of the mind. (TGM. 4-5)
The dynamic nature of
archetypes, and how archetypes manifest in our lives through the numina in our
dreams, can only be discovered through careful investigation or with the
passing of time. Only upon discovering
its origin of inspiration or cause can there be any understanding of a dream, vision,
or thought. First, one must pay
attention to numinous material. Then,
when attempting to interpret one’s dreams, the dreamer will become aware of problematic
issues or wounds that may have been repressed, a path toward healing their
wounds, an awakening to nuances unconsciously influencing their actions,
emotions, and thoughts, as well as, the awareness of their journey towards
individuation, also considered enlightenment and spiritual awakening.
Due to the dichotomic contents of the unconscious, that
which is revealed in a dream is not clearly definable. This means that the interaction between
dreamer and analyst will be personal, meaning intimate, and individual, meaning
unique to that particular dreamer. There
are a variety of potential problems with dream interpretation. The dreamer, him or herself, might have an
unconscious prerogative or prejudice coming from an exterior influence or
repressed wound, which could lead the dreamer to exclude pertinent information
regarding their dream or their relative associations. They may have a theory that they are
unwilling to let go of or a traumatic experience that they are unwilling to
divulge to the analyst. Unless the analyst
is aware of the dreamer’s emotions, circumstances, personality, and has some
idea regarding the dreamer’s psychic condition, they will not be able to
interpret the dreamer’s dream accurately.
To complicate matters more, both dreamer and analyst must consider the
implications of countertransference, whereby the wounds, or issues, within the analyst’s
own life become projected onto the dreamer, if not ingested by the
dreamer. In addition, the dreamer must
never identify him or herself as “the wounded” while labeling the analyst
“healer.” Both the dreamer and/or the
analyst can make this mistake of projection.
It is imperative that the dreamer remain at the center of his or her interpretation,
understanding that the critical information revealed is only done so by opening
the door to introversion and acceptance of what is not initially
understandable.
In
addition, because our unconscious contains associative material, we sometimes
have dreams which reflect a message regarding this particular material, or we
may have dreams which speak in spontaneous primordial archetypal symbols. The naked truth, brought to us through our
dreams, may reveal how we truly feel about someone or something in our life; or
we may see the path we are on toward individuation, reflecting our own
self-perception, which unmistakably can be concealed from our conscious
awareness. To complicate matters, it
will generally be a combination of both. Deciphering which associative conscious
details to exclude or include as relevant and which ones to recognize as représentations collective, is difficult
at best, and impossible without a great knowledge of the dreamer, mythology,
and psychology. Ultimately, it is the
comprehension of the connection between dream, mythology, psychology, and the
dreamer, which enable the analyst to attempt a translation of unconscious
language.
Unconscious language comes in the form of sign and
symbol, differentiated by the latter’s limitless meaning contained within a
familiar but otherwise unimportant or unrelated image. More specifically, this image is of a
transcendent nature, forcing our mental grasp on reason to capitulate. Though incomprehensible due to the nature of
certain ideas and concepts being beyond the realm of human understanding, we
use these symbols to communicate and to translate our emotion, thought, and
impulse into a language which is universal to all humans. We constantly communicate, not only from
human to human, but also between unconscious and conscious thought through the
use of symbols. Regardless of
understanding a symbol’s logical connection to its apparent meaning, and
regardless as to whether symbols may seem to have their roots in specific activities
or locations (such as symbols within religion), one must understand that
symbols are rooted in an archaic history precedent to our conscious awareness. Freud considers these symbols to be “archaic
remnants;” whereas Jung refers to them as archetypes. An archetype, as defined by Jung, is “an
inherited tendency of the human mind
to form representations of mythological motifs –representations that vary a
great deal without losing their basic pattern” (TUS “SID” 108). The
importance lies in the distinction between Freud’s archaic remnants and Jung’s archetypes. According to Freud, a symbol conceived in a
dream is an inherited idea, moreover, a concrete thing. Jung has altered this concept by claiming
archaic symbols, more accurately primordial symbols, are tendencies, moreover, impulses.
Knowing that archetypal symbols are
instinctual helps in understanding the significance of their occurrence in a
dream. The recognition of symbols is
imperative when attempting to interpret dreams.
To further complicate matters, these symbols may be hidden in what we
would otherwise assume to be associative material. A child raised without a defined religion may
dream of crosses, angels in hell, crows nailed to a wall, resurrection through
the power of forgiveness, and so forth. These seemingly bazaar images may be adumbratio in nature, casting an
anticipatory message to the dreamer through representations
collective. The number 3 may
present itself as the 3rd floor of a building, three characters,
three magical powers, or an object with three points. The number though may not translate to the
object associated with it, but rather it may represent something symbolic,
something archetypal, such as the relationship connected with the holy trinity:
Father, Son, and Holy Ghost; Jesus, church, and man (humanity); mother, father,
and child; or, the Hindu Ida, Pingala, and Sushumna. Making the distinction between image’s that
are symbolic of an archetype and images that represent an association within
the dreamer’s life is difficult to determine.
This is the challenge that the analyst faces.
This
difficult distinction is presented in a dream of a thirty-one year old woman
whose dream bears witness to the dreamer accidentally emasculating her husband
through castration. In her dream, her
husband is calm and keeps telling her he will go to the doctor in the
morning. All the while she is in an absolute
panic. Some Jungian interpretations
might claim that her husband is a representation of her animus, her masculine self, and that she has just deprived herself
of this masculine part by castrating him in the dream. If this dream is compensatory, we will find
archetypal symbolism, which is shaped by the personality of the dreamer as well
as her conscious situation. Often
compensatory dreams act as counter-weights to imbalances within the dreamer’s
life. Jung says, “As consciousness is
exposed to all sorts of external attractions and distractions, it is easily led
astray and seduced into following ways that are unsuited to its
individuality.” Therefore, Jung
continues, “The general function of dreams is to balance such disturbances in
the mental equilibrium by producing contents of a complementary or compensatory
kind” (TUS 87). Thusly, this dream could be a reflection or warning
that she is living an unbalanced life and she needs to become aware and attempt
to compensate by maintaining a more balanced self through the acceptance and integration of her animus and
anima, her feminine and masculine. The dream may be a premonition of what is to
come.
Whether
the dream is a warning to ‘wake up’ and realize how she is living her life, or
whether it is anticipatory, is only determinable by looking at the aspects that
comprise her life. Upon doing so, one
would find that she is the main income source within her three-member family,
she is the greater participant in the house maintenance, as well as the vehicle
maintenance, and she is the primary care provider of their child. She has been struggling to maintain her
support of her husband’s perpetually unsuccessful business while juggling all
her responsibilities. Therefore, an
alternative interpretation based off a personal knowledge of her conscious
situation and her emotional condition might narrow in on a more associative
driven message. Such an interpretation
would bring awareness to the dreamer that she sees her husband as non-masculine.
Regardless of the obvious nature of this situation (he is castrated), her
husband does not seem to care enough about this fact to do anything about it or
change his ways to improve or regain his masculine aspects, in the dream and in
real life. However, she is not okay with
having a husband who is seemingly less masculine than he should be or needs to
be; thus her panic and his calm. Her
capabilities and perpetual compensation for his masculine short-comings is
potentially a source of guilt for her; thus, she is the one who castrates
him. This posits the notion that she is
enabling the situation.
The interpretation of this dream is rooted
in a primordial concept of origin beginning with a unified universe that,
through the birth of consciousness, is split, which can be amplified on the
human plane through the biblical account of Adam and Eve. This is relevant to this dream through the
divided, yet entwining relationship of male and female, extended to the
concepts of good and bad, right and wrong, heaven and earth, introversion and
extroversion. Upon eating from the tree
of knowledge, Adam and Eve become conscious of their difference, thus their
nakedness. It is the universal goal of
each psychic life to reintegrate the two separate aspects, of which neither can
exist without the other. In Tantric
Hinduism, the male and female aspects are represented as Shiva and Shakti. Shakti is the feminine, referred to as
Kundalini in the human body. Upon
awakening either through meditation or through wounding, Shakti will coil
around the body, rising through chakras, and rejoin with Shiva at the crown of
the head where there will be a realization of pure consciousness, wherein there
is a “resolution of duality into unity again, a fusion with the Absolute” (TK).
Those who have testified as having reached this point of enlightenment
recall a bright light accompanied by a loss of original self-perception. Gopi Krishna, Hindu mystic and author of Living with Kundalini, an autobiography
on his experience achieving a state of enlightenment through the reunification
of his two poles brought about through meditative practices, explains:
I was no longer
myself, or to be more accurate, no longer as I knew myself to be, a small point
of awareness confined in a body, but instead was a vast circle of consciousness
in which the body was but a point, bathed in light and in a state of exaltation
and happiness impossible to describe. (K 13)
The
energy, which moves upward in the body during this Hindu ritual, leads the two
entwining poles to the third eye of pure consciousness, which produces pure
light. This is total liberation from
duality, such as portrayed in the crucifixion of Jesus whereby the Holy Ghost
unites the Father and the Son once again.
As well, it could be said that Adam and Eve are once again embracing in
original purity, a return to the Garden of Eden, only this time in
consciousness. Often the representation
of these two separate but dependent aspects can be found in the image of coiled
or winding snakes. This symbolic image
is found on the bishop of London’s crosier, the Indian and Russian Orthodox
Catholic church staff, statues of Mithras, statues of Hermanubis
(Greco-Egyptian syncretic deity), and many other locations regardless of era,
location, culture, or theology.
Taoist
Alchemy also offers a ritual of energetic movement of the split self which
culminates as a fire that moves upward toward the brain and produces waves of
bright light between the eyes; once again, conjuring up the image of a third
eye. This triad aspect of psychic
movement has symbolic forms in religion, culture, and tradition, but it also
has a biological base as well. All
descriptions on the location of this third eye or the source of light
correspond to the anatomically positioned pineal gland. Similar to the dualistic nature of the
psyche, the structure of the brain comprises organs of dual nature, meaning for
every left side there is a corresponding right side. The only exception is the pineal gland, which
is located right between the right and left hemispheres and right between the
two cerebrums. Jana Dixon, who wrote The Biology of Kundalini: A Science and
Protocol of Spiritual Alchemy, claims, “It’s said that when the pineal
gland is activated it becomes illuminated like a thousands suns” (qtd in EES).
Thus, we find many images depicted in mythology, religion, culture, and
tradition bearing the form of entwining snakes and a third eye. This inner movement, deliberately channeling
the energy within to elevate oneself out of a differentiated condition of
suffering to an individualized state, is ultimately the psychic goal of each
person; which brings with it an understanding of earthly suffering resulting
from an inner wounding/division of one’s self. The primordial origin of the Thirty-one year old
female dreamer’s unconscious leads her to sensing an issue within her life,
which represents itself through the images known to be male and female. Whether we are talking about her relationship
with her husband or her inner condition, she needs to work to repair this
division and bring it back from a lopsided state to a state of wholeness.
A fifty-six
year old woman has a dream wherein she brought home two fireplaces. One is
elaborately detailed, quite exquisite, while the other is cheaply made and rather
ugly. She carefully places the
fireplaces outside her home in deliberately chosen locations; whereupon, her
three daughters and their nine collective children gather around to adamantly
express their disapproval at the outside locations. She decides to return the cheap fireplace,
keep the nice one, and maintains her belief that it, though expensive and
beautiful, belongs outside of the home.
This seemingly unimportant dream bears a very important issue contained
in the dreamer’s unconscious and brought to her attention through the
dream. First, you must know some of her
personal information, information that may seem unconnected, irrelevant, or
unimportant concerning this dream. If I did
not have a pre-established intimate relationship with the dreamer, she may
never have shared the details within her conscious existence that reveal the
intended compensation of her dream. She
has recently lost over fifty pounds, dropping her weight below her daughters
who normally weigh less than she does. She
has been walking around feeling like a new person, or a person who finally
reflects on the outside the quality she believes to potentially be on the
inside. The day prior to the dream, one of
the dreamer’s daughters had just said that she had decided to be content with her
weight and that she would derive her happiness from her inner qualities and not
her outer appearance.
Through a compilation of collective motifs
and personal associative material, the dreamer’s dream is attempting to come to
peace with an inner conflict she has yet to bring to consciousness; however, as
Jung says, her dream has betrayed her secret.
Her home is a collective symbol of her center, her true self. It is common to find square enclosures, or
enclosures of any shape, as the archetypal motif of one’s psychic center. The
fireplace, fire being a motif of death and rebirth, is the necessary object to
place at the center of this debate due to her reaction to having lost weight. She is choosing to place this beautiful item
of death and rebirth (her rebirth) on the outside of her home (the outside of
her self – her extroverted self). Being of a non-abundant nature, her inner
conflict involves the focus she has placed on her outer beauty. She has struggled with non-abundant issues
for so much of her adult life, which is essentially a fear of being without
enough of whatever it might be one needs, i.e. food, love, companionship,
support, warmth, and the like.
Non-abundance crosses the path between material needs (outer) and
emotional needs (inner). Her home has always reflected a beauty
unparalleled by most homes, and now she is claiming that she should be at
liberty to extend this beauty to the outside of her home.
[…] Thou,
whose exterior semblance doth belie / Thy soul’s immensity; / Thou best
philosopher, who yet dost keep / They heritage, thou eye among the blind, /
That, deaf and silent, read’st the eternal deep, / Haunted for ever by the
eternal Mind, -- / Mighty Prophet! Seer blest! / On whom those truths rest /
Which we are toiling all our lives to find, / In darkness lost, the darkness of
the grave […]
-William
Wordsworth, “Ode on Intimations of immortality”
The issue at hand regards
the abundance or non-abundance of confidence represented in the archetypal
images of her home and a fireplace. Does
she have enough confidence to reflect this on the inside as well as the
outside? Her daughter’s comment has
subliminally cast a shadow of doubt in her.
Regardless, the dream depicts the dreamer upholding her decision to
place this object outside, as well as returning the lesser fireplace and
keeping the better one. This would
indicate that she is worthy of the better more substantial and lasting
fireplace; her rebirth or transformation is abundant, grand, and
sustaining. Alchemically speaking, she
is the prima materia, separated in
body and soul and then reunited as ultima
material. Something that doubt, created
by a projected social ideal focused specifically on body weight, has kept her
from feeling is within her reach.
We
arrive at this interpretation through a thorough knowledge of the primordial
origins of archetypes and their influence and effect on the psyche. Though archetypes can manifest spontaneously,
they also can be manifestations of a compensatory nature based on personal
conscious conditions as disclosed by this last dream. Nuemann elaborates, “The appearance of
archetypal images and symbols is in part determined by a man’s [or woman’s]
individual typological structure, by the situation of the individual, his [or
her] conscious attitude, his [or her] age, and so on” (TGM 11). Knowing the feminine nature of the dreamer,
deduces the primordial content of her dreams as reflections of primordial creation
found in the archetype of the Great Mother.
The archetype of the Great Mother, or Great Round, is the elementary
character of the feminine, the personification of earthly and metaphysical
elements. The Great Round encompasses
creation of the universe and all that is contained within the universe, from
the material to the spiritual, the upper realms, or heavenly, to the lower
realms, hell, good and bad, birth and death, and then rebirth. From the darkness of our unconscious
condition, the Nocturnal Mother births the elements contained within our
consciousness. The Feminine, then, is
the source of archetypes concerning preservation, formation, nourishment, and
transformation.
In
the Great Round’s existential connection between the metaphysical and the
symbolic, lies the development of human culture. Feminine is at the center of one’s dwelling,
as women are the creators of the dwelling.
Women not only were responsible for the dwelling, but also for
nourishment, of which the fertilizing, growth, collection, preserving, and
preparing were a feminine function; all this in an effort to protect and ensure
survival. Most significant within this
female group’s center is the maintenance of fire. Neumann says, “Female domination is
symbolized in its center, the fireplace, the seat of warmth and food
preparation, the ‘hearth,’ which is also the original altar.” Further, Neumann explains that fire has
become the “symbol and instrument of transformation […] Thus the Feminine
becomes the repository of transformation and in the primordial mysteries lays
the foundations of human culture, which is transformed nature” (TGM 284). Specifically significant to women, fire
represents the transformative nature of woman; it is the sacral vessel as in
the uterus. Likewise, in the alchemical
stage of putrefactio, fire is the
location of transformation. Through fire,
within our inner being, material
universalis is purified, regenerated, and perfected. The process of “cooking” frees the imprisoned
anima mundi, soul of the world. Fire is the life force of growth and
fertilization, as well as human psychic energy.
Through this stage of cooking, as in fire, there is an expansion of
consciousness.
The innate nature of a woman is rooted in
the primordial origin of existence, unconsciousness, followed by the birth of
consciousness –humanity. Nuemann writes,
“the primordial mysteries project a psychic symbolism upon the real world and
so transform it” (TGM 282). Therefore, as the feminine transformed early
human culture, the feminine instinct transforms a woman’s real world
experiences. This feminine origin is
embedded in the cosmos, and according to Tantra philosophy, human beings
contain the totality of the universe within their being: “All that is found in
the cosmos can be found within each individual, and the same principles that
apply to the universe apply in the case of the individual being” (TK).
The dreamer, accompanied by her daughters, represents the uroboric
elements from primordial origins. Her
numinous material portrays a debate regarding her sense of transformation,
thusly symbolized as a fireplace. Thus,
a compilation of physical plane material, personally attributed to this dreamer,
constructs the language of the primordial symbolic material presented in her
dream from her unconscious.
[…] Full soon thy soul shall have her
earthly freight, / And custom lie upon thee with a weight / Heavy as frost, and
deep almost as life! / O joy! that in our embers / Is something that doth live,
/ That Nature yet remembers / What was so fugitive! […]
-William Wordsworth, “Ode on Intimations of
immortality”
This dream is a great example of how collective
material meets with personal associative material; they combine, and then deliver
a message from the unconscious to the conscious in a personalized language. Whether we are prepared to listen is the
question. In the previous dreams, the
dreamers are working through wounds directly related to the details of their
current life experience. One must not
forget that our interior wounds are affecting our ability to respond and react
to the experiences within our outer life; this changes the source, or cause, of
issue from an exterior factor into an interior factor. Wounds can only be
hidden from one’s consciousness, not obliterated; they cannot simply be put in
the trash bin and leave the next morning with the garbage man. This is analogous to the rationality that
lies behind the cookie that ceases to exist once behind the back of the parent
and out of the child’s sight. We quickly
chalk this type of mentality up as childish and reserved for the ignorant
youth; yet, even as adults when incapable of dealing with an issue or source of
anguish, we unwittingly repress the issue into our unconscious and truly
believe it to be gone. We say childish
things like, “see, I don’t have a problem with that.” Or, “no one and nothing is
gunna control me!” Or, “I haven’t been angry about that in years; haven’t even
thought about it. So, see, it isn’t affecting me!” All defensive and all unproductive, because
the truth is, inside we are that little child crying, raging, running, hiding,
responding inside just as we did in our childhood and playing the fool on the
outside, carrying on as if a traumatic or emotional event could not have
control over our wellbeing. Pema Chodron
said, “Suffering begins to dissolve when we can question the belief or the hope
that there’s anywhere to hide” (Offerings
17 May).
I
knew a woman tormented by the failing and emotionally abusive relationship she
had with her husband. She said after
some of their worst fights, she would walk away and instantly not be able to
remember what they were fighting about.
She said this not in a figurative sense, but claimed that literally
moments after feeling defenseless, beaten down emotionally, heartbroken, her
hopes depleted and happiness bankrupt, she would have no recollection of
subject, trigger, or conversation regarding the fight. She said that as the years went on in this
destructive and unhealthy way, her memory got perpetually worse.
The
condition of our conscious and unconscious thoughts depends upon the condition
of the center of our personality, the self, the totality of our psyche. Often people will assume the unconscious to
be inconsequential or inessential, or perhaps, even unreal. Joseph LeDoux, a prominent neuroscientist, proclaims,
“Consciousness and its sidekick, natural language, are the new kids on the
evolutionary block –unconscious processing is the rule rather than the
exception throughout evolution” (qtd in Atkinson EICT 20). The psyche is not
intended to be understood, but rather recognized as a real, but autonomous, a
mostly unconscious aspect of our self, reflected
through our personality. Upon
introspection, questions arise that the laymen may never have thought to
consider: Am I connected to my spiritual center? Is there a proper balance between my anima and
animus? Do I have a healthy connection
and awareness of my unconscious condition? Do I understand the repercussions of a split
or divided self? Am I projecting or
being projected upon? Am I unconsciously
or consciously listening to the advice of the wise old man or an evil influence
in disguise? Am I aware of my role and
place in the psychic myth quest? These
are questions in which we are not required to ask or to be aware of in order to
exist; however, upon asking and then investigating we find our sources of issue
or nuances that may have been interfering with, or influencing, our happiness,
our relationships, our contentment, our confidence. Jung says, “all our social goals commit the
error of overlooking the psychology of the person for whom they are intended
and –very often—of promoting only his [or her] illusions” (TUS 60-61). In other words,
our outward view of what is important to our wellbeing leads us astray.
There
is not a person alive who is not aware of their current level of happiness, or
what he or she presumes to be their level of happiness. Why we are or aren’t happy might be of
surprise. We may be walking around
believing our sources of anxiety lie in one thing while our sources of
happiness lie in another; when, upon an introverted investigation, we may discover
that we have been entirely wrong. We owe
it to ourselves to have a thorough understanding of our psychic self, if for nothing else but the sake of
healing. We routinely rely on our medical doctors to diagnose
and cure our anatomical wounds and, likewise, we rely on psychiatrists or
therapists to diagnose our emotional and spiritual wounds, and then we expect them to ‘fix’ our wounds, “fix us.” Conversely,
it is only by our own introspection that we are able to become aware of our
psychic condition and then begin to heal.
In other words, we must all think of ourselves as the analyst and analysand;
we are the wounded and the healer in one. VerDarLuz writes, “When ploughing the depths
for the causes of our suffering, we must gallop, like the centaurs, straight
into the heart of the Dark Forest.” Thus we willingly face our wound no matter
how frightening this may be. VerDarLuz
continues, “We weave through our labyrinth arriving back in the traumas of
childhood or other lifetimes, or in unresolved relationships, and notice there
a pattern of the sacred wound, etched into our souls” (RWH).
The
concept of the wounded healer predates our modern psychology and is evident
throughout mythology. Chiron, a wise
Greek centaur, symbolizes the healing power of the wounded healer as he is
thrice wounded, and ultimately forfeits his own life for the liberation of
humanity; hence, through compassion ends his own suffering. Similar to this sentiment is the root of the Tibetan
Buddhist mani mantra, Om Mani Padme Hum. Through the recitation of the mantra, the
Great Vehicle, Mahayana, of
transformation and enlightenment will be realized. This is done through the sentiment contained within
these six syllables, which comprise the totality of all eighty-four thousand
teachings of Buddha. Though the mantra
cannot be directly translated, its essential message relays the path away from
suffering through compassion; often summarized in the statement: Behold! The
Jewel in the Lotus! This jewel is symbolic of a treasure realized
within oneself through the tradition of looking inward for the source of
suffering and then rising above the chaos through a method of compassion. Recitation transforms confusion (earthly
chaos) into wisdom. Like Chiron, the
goal is to recognize one’s wound as a necessary teacher, verses a source of
suffering. Both examples result in a
potential community of compassion verses the alternate self-absorbed
extroverted person resulting from an unending fear of suffering.
Recognizing
our wounds reveals our interconnectedness with all of humanity as all of
humanity suffers from these very same wounds; consequently, our self-perception
is expanded removing us from a personal identity that separates us into an
all-embracing identity (similar to the innate nature of compassion). The mythical fight between Jacob and the
angel demonstrates the necessity of our wounds as a process of our
formation. Without the fight against a
force much stronger and adept, Jacob would have been killed illuminating our
unavoidable fate: fight, or die, which psychologically we all must submit. This fight changed Jacob, who is subsequently
named Israel. “The wounded healer only
becomes able to heal and help others,” Levy posits, “when instead of being
resentful, bitter and feeling victimized by their wound, he or she recognizes
their wound as a numinous event, an archetypal moment that seeks to make them
participants in a divine, eternal happening.” This
sentiment parallels Jung’s notion of suffering as an archetypal and collective aspect
of humanity. Therefore, we need to find
a way to “be at home in the darkness of suffering,” wherein we find our way
toward recovery and a release from the death grip of our earthly oppressors,
the ideals founded in conscious goals and aspirations.
The
first step in becoming our own wounded healer lies within the dream(s) of our
childhood. Jung believes that analysts
should give special attention and priority to childhood dreams, far-seeing
dreams, which were so impactful as to stay with the person into their adulthood,
or were reoccurring. Without
understanding the significance of a dream from childhood, it, nonetheless,
remains in our conscious thoughts or repeatedly returns to our conscious
thoughts without a traceable or logical reason. These youthful dreams, in particular, cast an adumbration shadow over the life of the
dreamer. The precognition function of dreams in children elucidate the
ingredients of the unconscious that comprise the totality of the person yet to
be formed; thus casting this shadow of what is to be or become of the child
through numinous dream images. In
Jungian terms, a far-seeing dream reveals a person’s life myth, or myth quest. This
is because children’s ego conscious is less developed than that of adults,
meaning children are in closer contact with their unconscious. It is, therefore, susceptible to oneiric
blasts into consciousness; thus, exposing a vibrant message from the collective
unconscious. Because the unconscious
precedes the conscious in the development of the human psyche, dreams of a
child unveil the numinous symbols of primordial archetypes, due in part to the
lack of repressed physical-plane experiences resulting in a clear unscathed
image, and thus message, ringing with the immense energy and impact of the
collective unconscious. It is of no surprise
that these far-seeing dreams tend to be nightmares. The power of such symbols resonates deep
within the child without an understanding as to meaning or purpose, imposing
fear rather than a recognizable message.
An
example of such a dream comes from a woman who is still haunted by the effects
of her childhood dream. She said that
when she was eight years old she dreamed that there was a creek in the front of
her country home. She happened upon the
creek in time to see her three-year-old sister pinned under the water by a
large bolder. Her reaction, upon waking
from this dream, was to take it upon herself to watch over her sister very
carefully for fear that at any time her sister would die or be killed. The once three-year-old, who is now
thirty-one years old, has never been able to shake her horror and fear. This emotion defies our logical human thinking,
proving that we are in fact impacted by forces beyond our comprehension due to
their ambiguity, and irresolvable due to their transcendent nature. Upon a second glace through Jungian
spectacles, an analyst would find many primordial archetypes contained in this woman’s
dream. A winding river is the archetype
for both a search and a concatenation of changes to come. The river contains the water of life, which
is everywhere and available to everyone; however, commonly the value of the
life force of water is missed. Water, as
a life force, is another way of referring to the living and dynamic power of
the psyche. The life of the growing, changing body of the child, whose
self-perception will be continually changing through her physical-plane
experiences and her journey towards inner equanimity, personifies this living
power, as well as the living, moving path of the river. Water signifies anima mundi, the soul of the world, imprisoned in matter; whereby
transmutation is possible only with the washing in divine water. This small child represents birth and death,
beginning and end, the Alpha and Omega. Alchemically
speaking, the image of a child is initially the prima materia, or the crossroads to enlightenment in the physical
realities of intellectual doubt or metaphysical problems. Neumann describes Net, the Egyptian mythological personification
of the female principle, as “the ocean of life with its life –and
death—bringing seasons, and life is her child, a fish eternally swimming inside
her, like the stars in the celestial ocean” (TGM 222). This image brings
an entirely different effect than the original renderings of the
eight-year-old, whose limited imagination feared the numinous material due to
lost translation.
Speaking,
once again, in alchemical terms, these numina signify the alchemical wedding or
living death, which precedes a rebirth or change in self-image. The prima
materia is the coagula of chaos found madly dancing in the conscious realms
of human psyche. Separating the soul
(the active principle) from the body (the passive principle) and then reuniting
them will produce the filius
philosophorum, the magical child and reborn self, also known as the ultima materia. The initial prima materia, manifest as this girl-child in the dream, is the
seed to individuation, to wholeness. In
order to create the philosopher’s stone, we must initially dissolve in this
chaos and then re-emerge with a reborn self; it is upon the reunion of the
body, soul, and spirit that the stone, or panacea, is produced. It can, therefore, be concluded that the
large stone, interpreted by the eight-year-old as a boulder, which
holds this child in the water, is the universal solution of cosmic
consciousness. This symbolism emerges
from the theory, as VonFranz states, that “the stone symbolizes mere existence
at the farthest remove from the emotions, feelings, fantasies, and discursive
thinking of ego-consciousness.” She continues, “In this sense the stone
symbolizes what is perhaps the simplest and deepest experience –the experience
of something eternal that man can have in those moments when he feels immortal
and unalterable.” The stone symbolizes
the potentialities of liberation form earthly projections, chaos, and thusly a
move toward wisdom. The philosopher’s
stone weeps the water contained in the winding river, in which the girl-child
is emerged. The circular nature of the
bolder is the symbol of the world wheel, which contains the dorje at its center.
The
girl-child is the mediatrix between the personal unconscious and the collective
unconscious. The child in the water, pinned by the stone, may foretell of the miraculous
‘washing’ that animates inert matter and propels psychic birth through death;
thus, continuing the prerogative of the psyche of birth and rebirth. The boulder, the little girl, and the water
together create the alchemical process of individuation. Hence, this woman may go through a death and
rebirth experience in her life. What
seemed like a nightmare that inexplicitly continued to haunt this woman into
adulthood, was really a powerful proprioception foretelling her myth quest
journey and all the primordial components that she should be aware of in order
to be an active and conscious participant.
This is such an impactful and conscious-stretching moment; regardless,
often we carelessly and ignorantly place it in the childhood fear and fantasy
pile, infinitely neglected, and never seen for its antidotal principals.
The
childhood dream of a fifty-six year old woman could have warned her of an inner
complication that would influence her personality, consequently, her
physical-plane experiences throughout her life, if only she had understood its
meaning. She dreamt that she was inside
her home and looking out a big window at her dad who was bowling on the grass
by himself. While watching, the police
came and took him away. She objected,
claiming that they should not take him because he had not done anything
wrong. They took him anyways, and she
never saw him again. This dream is also
a great example of the seemingly ridiculous nature of dreams. Though it is abnormal to bowl in one’s own
yard, the collective symbolism is loudly evident through this very image. The bowling ball, itself, is at the center of
the theme of this dream. The bowling ball,
symbolizing the world wheel, roles repeatedly down the hill of her yard. The circular shape of the ball represents
unity, and contains the three world-principles: the clock of cyclic and eternal
time, containing sensuous longing; the serpent of chaos, containing hatred or
envy; and the pig of unconsciousness, representing ignorance. In the center of this ternary concatenation,
lies the dorje, the combination of
all divine/spiritual forces together.
The union of all factors presents the symbolic form of the self as
revealed in the circular mass. As in the
previous dreams interpretation of the stone, this ball signifies a distancing
from ego-conscious thinking; experience that is had in the innermost realms of
one’s being, the nucleus of the self. Von
Fronz says, “The alchemical stone (the lapis)
symbolizes something that can never be lost or dissolved, something eternal
that some alchemists compared to the mystical experience of God within one’s
own soul” (M&S “TPI” 226) Without comprehension, this woman was
dreaming about her inner sacred psyche.
However, her animus was rolling it downhill, indicating a burying of her
awareness of, or control of, her innermost self into the dark space of her
unconscious.
The
imprisonment of her animus, personified as a wise old man, is archetypally
symbolic of losing a guiding aspect of oneself necessary to progress through
the stages of psychic life naturally. The
wise old man plays many roles in women.
This figure is an imperative aspect, not only on the path one must take
to mature psychologically, but also in maintaining a balanced and whole self
throughout adulthood. The wise old man is functional as a guide in
the unscrupulous chaos of psychic pandemonium and exterior affect. He is the personification of wisdom, courage,
truthfulness, gumption, perspicacity, and spiritual sagacity. The loss of this profoundly helpful animus
has consequential repercussions. He is
taken away by male figures in uniform suggesting an outward idea of authority;
thus, suggesting she has replaced the authority of her helpful wise old man
with outer world projections of judgment.
These male figures differ from the positive attributes of a wise guide
by providing destructive influence and inner voices of doubt and criticism.
This
child’s psyche dealt her a life of insecurity and self-berating. On the
outside, she compensated for the loss of her positive animus (personified as
her loving father) by following the inner misguidings of the dark men (personified
as authoritatively adored figures). She
grew to embrace externally contrived notions of masculinity, from working on
her own vehicles to building her own house. She never valued herself within
these activities, nor found peace within her apparent outer abilities. In the process of carrying out a life lived
in such a fashion, all things feminine became buried. She neglected her inner condition in leu of
her physical-plane duties, which fill the requirements of a life created from
an unbalanced inner constitution, signified by wrongful shadow impersonations
of helpful aspects.
Our
childhood renders more than proprioception messages spoken through the language
of dreams. Jung explains, “The swift
passage of the years and the overwhelming inrush of the newly discovered world
leave a mass of material behind that is never dealt with” (TPJ “Dream Symbolism” 339). As
adults, we hold the unprocessed material from the passing years of our youth as
repressed unconscious material. This repressed
material, we commonly refer to as baggage, not only confronts us as numina, but also affects our lives
through unconscious influence, guiding our outer actions and relationships in
ways we are not aware of and therefore not in control of. Without processing childhood material, a
person is perpetually drawn back to infantile tendencies, which always include
the child’s connection to the mother and father. As a child is closer to a place of non-ego,
the mother and father replace the external value and judgment the child, now
adult, sees in the mirror. This is not
something that will change with the changing body, but is independent of the
aging physical being. In other words, we
can retain our infantile tendencies well into our adult life. Not until we consciously face this material,
and willingly re-experience our wounds, will they be corrected and integrated
into a healthy psyche.
The
dreams of a sixty year old man depict the complexity of a psyche that recedes into
adolescent perceptions of self and world.
One of his dreams is as follows. The dreamer is staying in a hotel in an
unfamiliar town. He has to get a special
antique from an antique store. The
address of the store is 231 (unknown street name). He takes with him a large cart, knowing his
item is going to be big. He is by
himself as he starts going down the street, which is a descending hill. He
walks past many stores that have all gone out of business. He finds himself at a very dumpy store in the
1100 block, so he knows he has gone too far.
He goes into the store anyways.
The store is really dark and dingy, filled with junk and many
people. Every time he stops to talk with
someone, he drops red cubes, which he is attempting to hold in his hands. A
young girl tells him that her dad is buying her a couch; however, it too is
dumpy. The proprietor looks like Charles Winchester from the MASH 4077
Television show. He says to the dreamer,
“Remember, anything is possible. I can
make you a deal on anything.” The dreamer responded with, “that’s what all the
proprietors say,” all the while juggling the cubes. One of the cubes falls to the floor and roles
to the far back of a huge dirty freezer.
He had to crawl inside to get his cube back. He finally thinks to put the cubes in his
pocket. He now dreads pushing the cart
back up the hill, but does so even though it remains empty. He calls his daughter to ask for her help in calling
his wife to let her know that he will be late.
She refuses, saying, “Do it yourself!” He calls his wife with this
information and the dream ends.
This
dream is not about dusty dirty antique stores, or a failure to find an item to
put on a cart; this is a far-reaching story about the childhood experience of
the dreamer. It is about something he
lost of value and needs to retrieve from his youth; an item his conscious
associations translate to be big enough to need a cart. He has to retrieve this item on his own. The quest of finding this special item of
antiquity, leads the dreamer on a descending journey into the depths of his personal
psychic history. He is under the
impression that somewhere on this journey he will find this important item,
which he does, but as a twist, he has had it with him the whole time. The numbers 2-3-1 may indicate the levels of
history, in sequential order, that he will find himself. The number 1 indicates a unified whole self;
and conversely, the number 3 indicates the degree of separation from this
integrated self. The stores that are out of business are inconsequential times
in his life; they serve no purpose: historical experiences best put back on the
library shelf of one’s personal life history.
The
concept of looking for an item in an antique store may stem from the dreamer’s
outer world experience of having parents who owned and ran an antique shop in a
wealthy suburb outside of Chicago. The
dingy store he arrives at in his dream contains a proprietor resembling the ostentatious
attitudes of his parents, extended family, and community. The other customers in the store represent
all those who bought into the belief that the store had value as represented by
the snooty character of the store owner.
Regardless, the dreamer sees it for what it was: worthless, soulless,
empty. This store is on the second (2nd) level of his decent into
unconscious material: his childhood, most likely at the point of transition
between high school, childhood dependent consciousness: interconnectedness to
mother and father, and college, separation from the connection to mother and
father. The proprietor tries to feed him
propaganda of promised investment and return, which he now understands is
nothing more than dogma stated by all whom this man represents. The dreamer had grown up in a community of
achievers and moneymakers, the rich and the powerful. Upon graduating from high school with great
academic standing and extracurricular involvement, appearing to be the
quintessential product that all the prudence in the world could hope for, his
parents put him on a plane and shipped him off to Harvard. At Harvard, he discovered the valueless façade
that coated all within his outer life’s existence up to that point. Psychologically, a discovery of this kind has
the effect of leaving a person empty and directionless –wounded. As such, he never truly had a grasp or vision
of his psychic center.
Subsequently,
he finds himself suddenly aware of the red cubes, which he juggles in his hands,
but continuously drops. Red is an
important color as it represents a vibrant energy, such as experienced in fire
(the final aspect of alchemy); additionally, it is the color of the male aspect
of the nadis referred to as Shiva.
Jung says, “The flux and fire of life are not to be underrated and are
absolutely necessary for the achievement for wholeness” (TPJ “Dream Symbolism” 378). The
cubes represent the aspects of the self, to include the four elements. This includes the dreamer’s innermost being,
as well as the collective and personal connection to the quad-elements, all of
which have a physical and symbolic effect.
This dream is a vision of the history of his soul, which takes the
dreamer into childhood in an effort to acquire a value yet defined. However,
the dreamer’s journey is not yet complete.
He has to go back even farther to acquire this object of value he has
been searching for, which turns out to be his dropped cube, his inner true self.
The dreamer’s cube has rolled into a large,
dirty, moldy freezer, a freezer, as the dreamer points out, is no longer in
service or available for use. He climbs in to the farthest corner to retrieve
this symbol of his true self. This has
taken the dreamer to level –3 of his journey back in time. This is the oldest, most degenerate place,
located inside of the dingy store, far down the declining street of closed
shops. He is at adolescence, reclaiming
his nucleus. He realizes he has to own
the cubes, so he puts them on his person for secure containment. He then proceeds to return from whence he
came, traveling back up the hill. He is
aware of how hard this path is to traverse and so calls on his anima to let her
know he is coming, but will be late. He
is sixty years old and just getting the message from his unconscious directing
him to look inward and find the innate qualities and aspects that are contained
within the center of the man he sees in the mirror, pushing him to no longer
willingly see himself through the ego-consciousness of his parents.
[…] Behold
the Child among his new-born blisses, / A six years’ darling of a pigmy size! /
See, where ‘mid work of his own hand he lies, / Fretted by sallies of his
mother’s kisses, / With light upon him from his father’s eyes! / See, at his
feet, some little plan or chart, […] As if his whole vocation / Were endless
imitation. […]
-William Wordsworth, “Ode on Intimations of
Immortality”
A
short time after this dream, the man has another dream whereby he sees a vision
of his father with a cleft pallet or harelip.
His father says to him, “I’m marrying a Hmong woman.” The dreamer points to a small Aztec-looking
woman standing beside his father and says, “Is this her?” The dreamer’s father says, “No, that is her
shaman. She is here to check you out.” Then
the dreamer’s wife says to the dreamer, “look,” and pulls up their son’s
t-shirt sleeve to reveal cuts all over his arm in patterns resembling
hieroglyphics. The cuts are actually
cuts on top of cuts creating layers of intricate scar patterns. They cover his
upper arms and his chest. The dreamer’s
wife says, “It’s because of them! It’s because they are getting married. It’s their
fault!” At this point, it is
apparent to the dreamer that they (his father and the shaman) are testing them
(the dreamer and his corresponding wife and son). Then the father pronounces
this very sentiment, saying that they are checking to see if the dreamer and
his wife are good enough for them. The
dreamer says that throughout the dream he has an overwhelming feeling he will
not be strong enough to fight this unknown evil force.
This
dream follows the same pattern as a traditional fairy tale, involving an evil
step-mother, or witch, and an unloving father, sinister father imago. Jung says that our psyche has a double face
whereby one looks forward while the other looks back. This man’s psyche is completely facing
backwards. The psychological problem
lies in the dynamic position this puts the dreamer in. He is still living through his parents; thus,
putting his fate in the hands of these negative archetypal figures, who control
the dreamer’s ego-consciousness through their malevolent guidance and
judgmental ways. In this psychic
condition the implied authority is not the self, but continues to be the
parents. Fairytales remind us of the
tenuous journey one must go on in an effort to conquer over the evil forces
that steel away the good aspects required for integration. Recognizing the evil in the figures is not
enough. There is a path that is hard,
too hard to travel down it seems; but one must be persistent in acquiring the
happily-ever-after, which is represented as a grand wedding of the anima and
animus. This wedding is also the synchronicity
of psyche and matter, an awareness of one’s psychic condition, a withdrawal of
projections and the condition of being projected upon, and conclusively, the
psychic state of individuation.
In
this dream, the evil step-mother is the figure of a magical woman personified
by the dreamer as a shaman. Von Franz
claims that this negative anima can “inhibit a man from getting into direct
touch with life and its real decisions” (M&S
“TPI” 191). This is specifically Hercules’
poisonous arrow, which has struck and wounded this man, completely affecting
the totality of his adult life. This is
metaphysically handicapping to the individual who attempts to live a happy
life, but ponders at this seemingly out-of-reach goal. As I said earlier, we are attempting to find
our bliss and it is impossible to intellectualize your wounds away in order to
achieve a condition of pure rapture. So
long as your self-judgment is coming from the parents, such as read about in
fairytales and witnessed in this man’s dreams, you can be assured that you will
continue on the path of devolution of one’s self to the dark shadows. It is important to attempt to figure out
whether the images sent in dreams as shadows are there to guide us toward
individuation or lead us astray. This
man unwittingly admits to not knowing if he possesses the strength and
conviction in his own instinctual crusade as to overcome his existential
dilemma, which is rooted in his center and emulates into his outer world
existence. Thus this man has battled
chronic depression, insecurity, and issues of subordination.
According to Jung, “the unconscious lets
its creatures go only at the cost of sacrifice” (P&S “PTS” 98). This may
explain the strange scaring on his son’s upper arms and chest. His son is the object of the painful
sacrifice, indicating the degree of horror that is to come. Jung continues, “The conquest of the soul is
in reality a work of patience, self-sacrifice, and devotion.” This all relates to the commitment to resurface
past wounds and travel the dangerous myth-quest path toward a reborn self. George Gurdjieff once said, “A man will
renounce any pleasures you like but he will not give up his suffering,”
indicating the level of comfort found in suffering versus the fear bound in
facing one’s wounds (unknown source). In
her book, Something More: Excavating Your
Authentic Self¸ Sarah Ban Breathnach sums-up this transpersonal process of
traveling back through our wound in a narrative between a human and an angel at
the Celestial Gates. The human has just
been told that she must “repeat and return” because she didn’t get rid of her
baggage during her lifetime. The woman
responds by saying, “I know, but I could never kick the misery habit. ... Besides, if you’d been born into my
family, and married the four carbon-based life-forms I did…” The angel gives the following as an analogy
of the alchemical process of death and rebirth through the wound, which we must
all embrace in order to heal:
Every time you go
back, life keeps getting harder and harder.
At some point your core gets shattered, and you hit rock bottom. Finally you look up, asking for help. Maybe even being grateful. You’re grateful you’re still alive to work
through whatever spiritual assignment you brought with you into the world. Being grateful. That’s the first step to the path of joy.
(11)
Through
the analogous language of our collective unconscious, we translate the
religious connotations of this narrative through a sun lit crystal, which illuminates
the story into psychic light and meaning, which resonates through our being.
It
is the choir of the psychic collective, which hums the verses of our journey though
familiar language whispered in our ears and echoing deep within our being. They sing of our metaphysical pain and
suffering, and remind us we are nothing more than a reflective mirror of a
greater transpersonal field of human experience. This knowledge brings us comfort as we dare
to switch our gaze inward, reminding us we are not alone. We hear this sentiment resounding in George
Eliot’s poem “The Choir Invisible:” “O
May I join the choir invisible / Of those immortal dead who live again / … /
Whose music is the gladness of the world” (ll. 1-2, 44). Proof, once again, that the language of
archetypes transcends space and time and resonates with meaning springing from
an unknown source.
Through
collective symbols, our dreams emulate a disassociated self as we rise towards
or away from awareness, consequently resulting in destruction or construction
dependent upon the dreamer’s psychic condition. One female dreamer describes a
dream in which she is swinging on a rope suspended from Heaven. She grabs ahold of the rope and runs in an
outward arc until her feet lift off the ground. She says she is having fun and feels like a
child. She is circling clockwise. Soon, though, her fun turns scary as she swings
faster and faster, lifting higher and higher.
She is certain that she will tire, let go, and plummet to her
death. There are people below her, but
they are oblivious to her peril.
Clearly, the circumambulating in the clockwise direction indicates a
move towards consciousness. In this
movement, though, she becomes fearful, somehow knowing this shift towards
awareness will lead her down a path fraught with dangers and suffering. The fact that there are many people present
yet not one notices her indicates that this journey is her own. The rope suspended from Heaven is her
connection to the cosmic psyche, which leads specifically to her and spins
around her personal center.
In
Nietzsche’s book, On The Genealogy of
Morals, he says, “we are necessarily strangers to ourselves, we do not
comprehend ourselves, we have to misunderstand ourselves, for us the law
‘Each is furthest from himself’ applies to all eternity –we are not ‘men of
knowledge’ with respect to ourselves” (3). Based on our tendencies toward misoneism, fear
and hesitation are ego-centered human reactions to the unknown. There is a period of interregnum wherein we
release our hold on the ideology chaining us to our physical existence, thereby
impeaching the external authority that has our self-image projected upon
us. The tyrannical ruler is dismissed,
but we are yet hesitant to commit ourselves to an inward journey that appears
far more painful than the ignorance granted by the external oppressor. Whether it be the era of tyranny or the
freedom got from an inner spiritual leadership, we will yet discover both times
in our life were moments of decisions formed by our unconscious instincts
and/or wounds, or our extroverted responses and reactions to these inner
inclinations.
We owe it to ourselves to push on, for out
of the dark abyss of suffering and pain, grows the lapis ready to reveal our
reborn self. In The Undiscovered Self, Jung writes:
The very fact that
through self-knowledge, that is, by exploring our own souls, we come upon the
instincts and their world of imagery should throw some light on the powers
slumbering in the psyche, of which we are seldom aware so long as all goes
well. They are potentialities of the
greatest dynamism, and it depends entirely on the preparedness and attitude of
the conscious mind whether the irruption of these forces, and the images and
ideas associated with them, will tend towards construction or catastrophe. (58)
It
is in the hopes of avoiding catastrophe that we plummet straight into chaos as
a means to re-experience that which we presume to have experienced but did so
with prejudice and projection rendering the experience useless.
This same woman came back to me with
a dream that followed her first by only a few short weeks. Her dream resembles the first in its theme of
self and unconscious awareness, only this time with more detail than the first. She says in her dream she looks out her front
window from a house and neighborhood that are unfamiliar to her. The house is located on the crossroads of a
t-shaped road, whereby the main street stretched out in front of her without
ending. She sees a helicopter pulling a
man who is sitting in a blue chair which is facing backwards. This is some kind of thrill ride, or so it
seems. However, the helicopter descends
too low to the ground and she watches the man’s face as the back of his chair
scrapes the street. The dreamer says
that even though the image is traveling away from her, her focus remains close
up as in a movie. The man on the chair
holds an expression of dreadful fear, knowing that if his chair flips over his
head will first smash into the street and then he will continue to be dragged
along the pavement as the helicopter obliviously continues to pull him. The dreamer immediately turns away and
pretends she hasn’t seen him. Later, her
husband points out that there is an accident in the middle of the street. The dreamer runs out into the street in a
panic, fueled by guilt and remorse. She
feels so bad for turning away from the man’s peril. When she gets to the street she realizes that
the accident is a simple fender bender involving people she has never seen
before. However, upon looking to the left
side of the street, which is flanked by a hill, she sees pieces of blue plastic
scattered all along the road and up the hill.
She instantly knows this is the broken remains of the man’s chair. She runs up the hill scared to death of what
she might find. She sees more broken
pieces of plastic and then she sees two feet in faded black socks,
shoeless. She walks up slowly and sees
the white swollen, bloody and bruised face of the man. Her hands immediately cover her mouth and she
lets out a blood curtailing scream for help.
She feels like she had something to do with this man’s death because she
had turned away earlier when she knew he was in trouble. Just then his eyes shoot open and he looks
right into her eyes. Her dream vision goes completely black and the words to a
song sounded: “Don’t speak; I know what you’re thinking.” She immediately wakes
up.
The dreamer had this dream some time
ago, yet the impression, though incomprehensible to her, has left her feeling
on the edge of something inexplicable yet bursting with energy. She repeatedly says to me, “I feel something.
I don’t know what it is; but it is a very strong feeling. I feel like I should be doing something, but
I don’t know what. I’m not at ease, but I don’t know why.” The feeling was
cosmic movement within her psyche; her unconscious spoke to her in a language
known to her inner being, but foreign to the outward-dialect of her conscious
ears. What she needs to begin to understand
is the value dreams have in exposing the elements of the self through
collective symbols, the numinous material, as offered in this dream. Her dream speaks in a language not weighed
down by distractions and attractions inherent in an extroverted conversation, but
instead revealing a colorful, dynamic, and 3D message she should have been able
to ingest and process. Jung tells us
that collective symbols concealed in dreams, “[appeal] directly to feeling and
emotion.” Jung continues, “Such a
language is needed to translate certain truths from their ‘cultural’ form
(where they are utterly ineffectual) into a form that hits the nail on the
head” (TUS “S&I” 86-87). Thus, this dream, manifest of her psychic
condition, leaves her deeply moved and paralyzed to her prior naïve conscious
condition.
The location of the dream is on a T-shaped
road, which equates to the symbolic representation of the cross. She is at a spiritual crossroads, personified
in the doctrine of Jesus’s crucifixion, whereby the triad is attained through
the process of birth, death, and then rebirth. Jesus, a man who represents her animus, sits
facing backwards inferring an unconscious direction of focus. This man sits in a blue chair. Blue symbolizes both height and depth (sky
and water); however, the helicopter lowers the man to the street level once
again indicating a movement towards unconsciousness by a decent in the vertical. A loss of blue can be the equivalent to the
loss of the blue vertical circle within the center of the golden mandala, which
would render an abstract, two-dimensional existence. Blue also has a feminine nature. The blue chair (feminine) hosts the man;
thus, the animus sits with the anima, indicating a relationship between the
two. Connecting these symbols, Jung says, “What is Heaven without Mother Earth.
…She adds the missing blue to gold, red, and green, and thus completes the
harmonious whole” (TPJ “Dream
Symbolism” 448).
Continuing
with the same dream-text, there is an accident, wherein the chair is smashed
and the man is nearly destroyed. This
vital aspect of the dream exposes the separation within the dreamer’s psyche: a
broken and divided self/center. The location
of this detrimental divorce of synergetic wholeness of the self is to the left,
which again represents the unconscious aspect of this inner degradation. The dreamer has feelings of remorse and guilt
for turning away from her view of the man in the blue chair, admitting that she
sensed a devastating accident was imminent. This is a refusal to look at one’s
own wounds, being unable to cope with the reality of the inner psychic
condition.
Coming
upon the accident and assessing the evidential debris, the dreamer then stands
before the wounded man who looks right into her eyes, once again, indicating
the intimate connection between the man and the dreamer. The dream visualizes complete unconsciousness
when it goes black. And when the dreamer
hears the words: “Don’t speak; I know what you’re thinking,” this indicates the
connected relationship of all the symbolic images to the thinking aspect, which
indicates an inner conversation –introversion –versus an extroverted conversation
that would require her to communicate verbally in response. This resounds while encompassed by the
blackness of unconsciousness. This woman
admitted to living and breathing by her emotions. She said she was suffering immensely from her
outer world experiences; and through the glasses of naivety, she was
simultaneously pretending her inner psychic condition did not exist and was not
in need of attention/help. When she
turned away from the picture window in the dream, she was turning away from her
inner wounded self. As we now know, it
is only with her own volition that she will ever be able to heal her wounded
self. She, therefore, needs to
understand the psychic numina in her dreams in order to understand the outer
world suffering she will continue to endure unless she turns towards the
contents of her psychic self, broken and split though she may be.
The
insults she derived from exterior sources were introjected upon her psyche
producing an image of self-perception reflecting the qualities of the original
insult. She mirrored her insults. She took on their fragrance as her own. Introjections are the essence of the principle
flaw of extroversion. Jung refers to
this process of incorporating another person or object into one’s own psyche as
projection. As discussed earlier, we are
capable of projecting outward to another, or being projected upon. Harboring such poisonous introjections or
projections as this woman did, harms/wounds the true self and equates to an intolerable
life of suffering. Our earthly suffering
conceptualizes the miasmatic suffocating brought forth by our wounds as the
poisonous effluvia tickle our noses and choke our lungs. Our life seems weighed down by
intellectualized earthly experiences, which unsurprisingly materialize only on
the open field of outward perception.
So,
how is it that Jung’s concepts of archetypes and a collective unconscious
manifests into an obtainable resource of self knowledge and guidance? Jungian theory suggests that there is a way
to translate the language of the cultures into a language that speaks to a
deeper aspect of the human experience, one that recalls the names of deities
and places them in reach of our own personal meaning. Jung has repeatedly emphasized that
archetypes are not inherited ideas,
rather they are “inherited tendencys
of the human mind to form representations of mythological motifs” (TUS “Symbols” 108). This means the collective unconscious lays
down the grid within which we dance a personal routine comprised of individual
experiences mixed with our innate personality; thus, eradiating our theological
and philosophical belief systems through our dreams and visions. The ontological view of human existence
morphs into universal symbols, which pierce our moral fiber singing with a
personal directive. This is the summative concept of the collective choir
singing a melismatic tune. When we hear
this collective tune, we are rescued from the miasmatic suffocating we naively
suffer in the extroverted life of the lonely, and are lifted into an apotheosis
of human experience, connecting our physical energy with spiritual realms.
The
grid pattern of spiritual biology can be found within religious, cultural, and
mythological traditions, as well as our dreams.
Our basic spiritual anatomy satisfies a narcissistic need to believe in
something grander than ourselves yet somehow a part of our physiological
makeup. What Aristotle referred to as
the entelechy of living beings, not only surfaces in our dreams, but is also found
in ancient and modern doctrines.
According to Jung, it isn’t phenomenologic chance or irony that has
destined similar symbols and the necessity of specific God(s) into the lives of
humans across time and space, but rather an archetype an sich. Neumann says, not
only does the archetype an sich “act
as a magnetic field, directing the unconscious behavior of the personality
through the pattern of behavior set up by the instincts; it also operates as a
pattern of vision in the consciousness, ordering the psychic material into
symbolic images” (TGM 6). This explains why we unconsciously follow indefinable
instincts that create cravings for fulfillment through spiritual doctrines. Therefore, the concept of an archetype is not
limited to a potential aspect of the human experience; rather it is an actual
part of our inner and outer experience.
Humans continue to relate to and require the symbols found within
cultural, religious, and mythological traditions due to their dynamic and
energetic origin in our psyche. We do
not exist without the collective aspect within our psyche whether we are
consciously aware of it or not. The
names change, but the concept and its corresponding emotion remains
consistent. This is perceived in the
different images contained within each dreamer’s dream, which speak only to
that dreamer in a secret language sparked to life by the very life force energy
chaotically spinning in the dreamer’s unique psyche. In addition, this individuated language and
consequent imagery is sought through cultural and religious practices. We seek that
which resonates with meaning regardless of logical or literal comprehension.
Neumann
suggests, “Nearly all the early and primitive documents trace the origin of the
world and of man to the darkness, the Great Round, the goddess” (TGM 212). In other words, in the beginning there was
primordial night, which is symbolic of the unconscious, which is symbolized as
and by the Great Mother. The origin of existence in the Babylonian beginning
makes a connection between the upper and lower realms and this connection is
bestowed a feminine persona named Tiamat.
Neumann writes, “The upper vault of heaven and the lower vault of the
underworld are fashioned from [Tiamat’s] body. … She remains the all-containing
Great Round” (TGM 213). She is the totality of all the elements. All
things outside of darkness are the “offspring of the Nocturnal Mother” (TGM 212). The book of Genesis reads: “In
the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty,
darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering
over the waters” (NIV Genesis 1.1-2). The Hebrew rendering of the primal origin
being that of darkness exemplifies Jung’s notion, which ascribes cultural minutiae
as the robe that covers the life-rendering energy of the etheric body. When our dreams indicate a move toward
darkness or reveal areas of darkness, we need to perceive this as a move back
to our primordial beginning, thus, a move toward unconsciousness, which could
mean a spiritual digression, or possibly an aide memoire of one’s innate nature
differentiated from one’s outer persona.
In this state of darkness the heavens and
earth combine to form a unified “Round,” or source, in which life is realized.
Upon the conception of light, consciousness is born and with it, so are all the
opposites: male and female, good and bad, upper and lower realms, and so forth;
the totality of which is called “uroboric,” representing our “original psychic
situation” (TGM 212-213).
The book of Genesis continues:
And God said, “Let
there be light,” and there was light.
God saw that that light was good, and he separated the light from the
darkness. God called the light “day,” and the darkness he called “night.” … And
God said, “let there be lights in the expanse of the sky to separate the day
from the night, and let them serve as signs to mark seasons and days and years,
and let them be lights in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth.”
And it was so. God made two great lights –the greater light to govern the day
and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. God set them
in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth, to govern the day and the
night, and to separate light from darkness. (NIV Genesis 1.3-5, 1.14-18)
The
primordial archetype represented by light is paramount in the traditions of
man, in the processes of individuation, and in the alchemical unio mentalis. Hallaj, the mystic poetically wrote, “The Sun
of the One I love has risen in the night, / Resplendent, and there will be no
more sunset… / I saw my Lord with the eye of the heart, and I said / ‘Who are
you?’ and he said, ‘Your Self.’” (qtd in tribe.net
“Unio Mentalis: Solificatio”). As poetically
as that is written, its far-reaching sentiment can be traced from the book of
Genesis to Tantric Hinduism and Taoist alchemy.
Within us lies the origin of our spiritual center. The pole of the universe is contained
within. We are the culmination of
existence from beginning to eternity. We
are a part of a greater whole, not limited by what is contained within our
physical bodies. The sun, the light, the source of energy and life, are
available to our psychic perception; if only we would look within than we would
no longer be without.
So
resounding, in fact, is the essence of the primordial uroboric structure within
our psychic constellation, that resulting symbols are found across the great
expanse of time and space, from ancient times to modern times. The prominent pattern portrayed in The Old
Testament regards the conception of Adam and Eve, male and female, unified in
the Garden of Eden, and then cast out upon eating from the tree of knowledge
after the enticing of a serpent. Therefore,
the apple from the tree of knowledge and the temptation of Adam and Eve gives
birth to consciousness. The first
knowledge brought before them through their conscious perception is the
awareness of their own nakedness. This
is not a literal nakedness, but a personification of separation, of difference;
thus follows the separation of good and evil, spiritual enlightenment and
suffering, hence heaven and hell. The
serpent often referred to as Lucifer, or the devil, in the broader picture is
the element responsible for bringing this awareness to consciousness. The existence of consciousness begins the
eternal process of threatening to pull us away from our primordial origin –yet,
as previously stated, this process is one we cannot be without. Thus, Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden could
be perceived as our unified and true selves, before the wounding at the tree
sunders our grasp on this innate nature of our innate self. Conclusively, the
serpent is death and yet through this death of a fused and whole self, one
begins the process of reuniting the division.
Therefore, the wound is necessary to ignite the process of healing,
reunification, and/or individuation. Often
in fairytales, this is depicted as the marriage of the prince and princess
whereby after a long prelude of misery and misfortune, adversity and suffering,
they live happily ever after –unified once again. Alternatively, all one has to do is exam his
or her own dreams through the eyes of introversion to find therein lies the
very same wedding party, preparing your own version of a ‘happy-ever-after’
wedding ceremony.
Wrestling
the wound through counseling focused on extroverted perspectives is what Jung
considered shallow sophistry at best.
Any therapy that disregards a person’s innate nature and their innate
natural ability to heal is a waste of time for both parties, but particularly
debilitating for the wounded. This is a
very insulting position to take, as this type of traditional therapy is the most
popularly sought after counseling method in Western culture. Regardless, in his closing statement in
“Dream Symbolism in Relation to Alchemy,” Jung proclaims “Let us take the
wisdom of the old alchemists to heart: ‘Naturalissimum et perfectissimim opus
est generare tale quale ipsum est*’ (*‘The most natural and perfect work is to
generate its like’)” (455). Though confoundingly
complex in description, the sentiment of Jung places the key of healing in the
palm of the wounded, empowering us to take the chance and turn our glace inward
and dare to begin our personal myth-quest.
The map we need for this journey is cosmically outlined in the numina
secretly held in our dreams. With the
belief in an innate hero within and our ability to conquer against our greatest
fears and weaknesses, we simultaneously step on the path of purpose,
individuation, and find that which we are seeking: the rapture of life.
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