http://jungiancenter.org/blog/ This is a supplemental site to jungiancenter.org. If you have found this site through blogging, check out our Web site. Here you will find a full description of the Jungian Center, who we are, what we do and what we offer. en Copyright 2004-2005 jungian@jazvt.com jungian@jazvt.com Ublog Reload 1.0.5 http://blogs.law.harvard.edu/tech/rss http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=28 A Three-Part Essay

Carl Jung, the inspiration behind the Jungian Center, was a highly intuitive person. Over the course of his long life he had many flashes of insight, premonitions and instant knowings that related to both his personal life and his professional work. One of the most intriguing of Jung’s vision was his last, occurring just eight days before he died, when (in the words of his close friend and student, Barbara Hannah) he was “largely concerned with the future of the world after his death.” This vision, Jung felt, was of the time 50 years hence, i.e. in 2011, and it is intriguing for what it foretells, and what inducement it can offer us to work on ourselves and create more consciousness in the
world. In this three-part essay (Part I posted in January ’09, Part II in February and Part III in March) we will examine Jung’s visions (Part I), his insights about the value and applicability of alchemy in understanding personal and collective change (Part II), and how these two—Jung’s visions and his use of alchemy—can help us re-perceive where we are now collectively and what the future might hold for us (Part III).

Part I: Jung’s Prophetic Visions

Carl Jung was known for many things: his work with dreams; his early work as a psychiatrist with association experiments leading to the concept of the “complex,” work that brought him to the attention of Sigmund Freud; his interest in archetypes, which became such a feature of his brand of psychology that it often is labeled “archetypal psychology.” What is not so well known is Jung’s very keen intuitive nature, which manifested in his quick assessment of his patients’ conditions and, outside the clinical arena, in both his personal life and his role as a public figure.

Intuition is that function that allows us to see around the corner of the future. Jung experienced this repeatedly in his personal life. In 1896, when he was 21 years old and living in Basel as a medical student, Jung was asked by his mother to pay a social call on an old family friend, Frau Rauschenbach. During this visit Jung had a fleeting glimpse of a young girl and he knew intuitively that he had seen his future wife. This was highly improbable, given that Emma Rauschenbach was then only 14, the daughter of a rich industrial family, and he was an impoverished medical student with many years of education ahead of him. But Jung never wavered and, once he achieved financial independence, he courted her persistently and married her in 1903.

Nineteen years later, in November of 1922, Jung had a dream in which his father (who had died in 1896) came to him with questions about marital psychology. At the time Jung found the dream obscure. But two months later, he had a disturbing dream, which he recounted in his autobiography, Memories, Dream, Reflections:
I was in a dense, gloomy forest; fantastic, gigantic boulders lay about among huge jungle-like trees. It was a heroic, primeval landscape. Suddenly I heard a piercing whistle that seemed to resound through the whole universe. My knees shook. Then there were crashings in the underbrush, and a gigantic wolfhound with a fearful, gaping maw burst forth. At the sight of it, the blood froze in my veins. It tore past me, and I suddenly knew: the Wild Huntsman had commanded it to carry away a human soul. I awoke in deadly terror,...
The following morning Jung got news that his mother had suddenly died, and he then remembered the dream of two months earlier and understood that in that dream his father had sent him a warning.

Another example of Jung’s intuition arose from his habit of painting mandalas. When he did so, Jung operated in what I have referred to as “allow mode.” In this mode, one’s intuition emerges out of the end of the pen or brush, without intermediation by the conscious mind. One mandala Jung painted in 1928 developed a Chinese character and Jung was puzzled at this. Within a few weeks he was approached by a Sinologist, Richard Wilhelm, who asked Jung to write a psychological commentary on The Secret of the Golden Flower, a Taoist-alchemical treatise.

A final example of Jung’s intuition operating in his personal life was his initial meeting in 1933 with Marie-Louise von Franz, who was to become one of his most diligent students, analysands and co-workers. The meeting came about through Jung’s interest in getting to know more about the young people of the day. Von Franz was the only girl in a party of 8 that Jung hosted with lunch and supper and, as he spoke to them of his psychology, he felt certain that von Franz had something to do with alchemy. His intuition prefigured reality a year in the future: In 1934 von Franz became Jung’s analysand and translator for him of Greek and Latin alchemical texts. Many years later, she wrote Alchemy, one of the definitive texts on alchemy and Jungian psychology.

Jung’s intuition was no less impressive about collective situations. In 1913, Jung sensed the “atmosphere” of Europe was “darkening,” and there was “something in the air,” something that felt oppressive in concrete reality, not just in his unconscious. In October of that year, Jung had a prophetic vision which he described in his memoir:
... I was suddenly seized by an overpowering vision: I saw a monstrous flood covering all the northern and low-lying lands between the North Sea and the Alps. When it came up to Switzerland I saw that the mountains grew higher and higher to protect our country. I realized that a frightful catastrophe was in progress. I saw the mighty yellow waves, the floating rubble ...]]> Fri, 09 Jan 2009 12:39:59 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=28 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=26

Pitfalls of the Path

The previous essays in this collection have described waking up and leap-frogging as positive, desirable activities or states of being, and they are. But it would be disingenuous of me to suggest they are without pitfalls. This final essay considers some of the disadvantages, drawbacks or dangers associated with waking up and leap-frogging.

Our examination will take as a model of awakeness and leap-frogging the figure of Jesus. His life illustrates some of the hazards the path can present. We will consider these under six rubrics: general problems; frustrations; temptations; problems associated with lifestyle; problems related to relationships with other people; and the pitfalls linked to public activities (i.e. leap frog actions).
Some General Problems

Under this heading, I consider the inevitable consequences of either waking up or leap-frogging. Problems of this type are inescapable.

“Waking up” is a process of coming to realize that the psyche is real and that Spirit is primary. Therefore Spirit has purchase on one’s soul. Our spiritual commitment comes before all else. This is what is meant by the Biblical injunction against “having any other gods” but The Force. Nothing else can we worship. How is this a problem? Because the Second Wave world lives in the materialistic confusion that ignores Spirit and denigrates the soul. We are “odd man out” when we put Spirit first in our lives.

Doing so—living with Spirit primary--implies living on faith and trust. In practice, this means holding or containing the left brain’s lust to know, to plan, while we hold or contain the ego’s fears and anxieties in the face of unknowing. This is painful, and hence, another peril.

Pain and suffering are unavoidable on this path. Jesus and the Buddha recognized this. But, as was noted in an earlier essay, suffering can be reperceived when we consciously recognize its meaning and purpose. But sometimes, especially when we are struggling alone, feeling isolated, without guidance or support, it can be very difficult indeed to know the point or purpose. And even when we do see the meaning, the ego is not likely to be happy. It does not like being crucified. This is what Jesus referred to when he spoke of “taking up one’s own cross” and following him. We face crucifixion whenever we must hold the “tension of opposites” in the struggle toward integrating them, as part of the individuation process.

The ego also hates self-denial. It does not appreciate having its desires thwarted. This is part of the task of “losing one’s life” that Jesus mentioned as being a part of his followers’ task. Relinquishing the things we want, so as to have higher, spiritual blessings, is never easy, for the whole Second Wave world pressures us to buy, consume, compare, compete, and “keep up with the Joneses.” It requires a strong inner locus of determination and independence of thought, as well as repeated contacts with The Force, to come to the point of knowing the truth that we do find life only when we consciously give it up.
Pitfalls of Frustration

Then there are the pitfalls associated with frustration. Frustration is an omnipresent feature of waking up and leap-frogging. Again, Jesus’ life can provide multiple examples. Frustrations come from many sources, e.g.
from being misunderstood. This is likely, perhaps inevitable, from those who are very asleep, because of the wide difference in level of consciousness between those awake and those very asleep. But even our closest contacts and aspirants—people who work with us and spend lots of time with us—may not be able to get on the wavelength at times.

from literalism and fundamentalism. Those stuck in the old way, following the letter of the law, will always misintepret what is said by those awake. Jesus experienced this with Nicodemus. Nicodemus was a well-known, recognized teacher and leader. Jesus knew this. Yet, for all his training and knowledge, Nicodemus was not able to rise above literalism in thinking that “rebirth” meant some literal process of being reborn. People who are not into spiritual things will not “get it,” and this will cause frustration in the face of the seemingly unbridgeable gulf.

from the refusal of some people to wake up, or even to recognize that their lives are not working. This is likely to be the most common frustration. Lots of people in the Second Wave world are in denial, thinking that “denial” is that river in Egypt. When we encounter these folks, what is patently obvious to us won’t even be “up” on their radar screens. This will provoke intense frustration unless we take Jesus’ advice: leave; move on. We don’t subject ourselves to lower levels of consciousness. There will be other, more challenging tasks to address, including another pitfall. This is the pitfall of temptation.

The Pitfall of Temptation

There are many types of temptation, but three are particularly common in the lives of people who are waking up. Again, we can look to the life of Jesus to illustrate these types. Perhaps the most omnipresent, given the consumerist cultures of the West, is the temptation of materialism. Where “getting and spending” are seen as virtues, and keeping alive the “throwaway” economy is a civic duty, it is hard to resist falling into this temptation. Even if we do manage to escape “consumeritis” by consciously choosing lives of “voluntary simplicity,” we can still fall into this temptation in its more subtle form: regarding “security” in monetary terms. This form of materialism would have us feel “safe” by having a regular paycheck, or savings in the bank, or health insurance, or other ...]]> Mon, 08 Dec 2008 12:27:53 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=26 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=25

Allow Mode

There’s an old saw that goes, “Don’t just stand there! Do something!” The subject of this essay is almost the reverse of this: “Don’t just do something (mindless action)! Stand there (mindfully)!” Note the parenthetical additions. Most Second Wave activity, especially in response to crises or pressing circumstances, is mindless: not reflective, not well thought out, not based on sound principles. There is a marked denigration of inaction/non-action in the Second Wave world, as if not doing is to be equated with passivity or an inability to take action. “Allow mode” is part of Third Wave reality in its assumptions, goals and effects. We will examine what I mean by this, but first I need to define the concept, and within this, examine the connotations of “allow.”
Definitions of “Allow”

Dictionaries define “allow” in terms of letting, giving, admitting, acknowledging, and “permitting to happen, especially through carelessness or neglect.” Note the negative implication. We are not using “allow” in this negative sense in this essay. Rather, we are drawing more on the classical Greek senses of “allow.”

The ancient Greeks thought of “allow” in terms of giving, granting or offering something to the gods, or devoting oneself to something (worthy of such devotion). They put stress on a yielding or subordination of ego to something higher, a higher force, power or principle. This inclusion of a higher power is central to the concept of “allow mode.”
Definitions of “Allow Mode”

“Mode” is a way of being or responding. I am thinking now of the current computer techno-jargon, “sleep mode,” when a computer is not fully functional, but is “resting” in an energy-conserving state. Similarly, “allow mode” is a way of being or responding to life.

The term is not my creation. I was introduced to it when I studied energy healing at the Barbara Brennan School. It was used there to refer to one of several possible ways of working with energy. “Push,” “pull,” “stop” and “allow” are four ways energy healers can handle energy. “Allow mode” is the mode in which the healer simply holds the energy field with the conscious intention not to “do” anything. That is, the ego mind is not in control. The logical left brain is not trying to diagnose, prescribe or “make” a cure happen. Rather, the healer, by holding the field, creates a “space” for The Force to work, to bring the patient whatever he or she needs. By non-doing, the healer gets his/her ego out of the way and serves as a conduit for a higher wisdom to work. In my experience, allow mode is the most powerful of all the modes of energy work.

Note that allow mode is not pure passivity, because it requires a certain type of action. This action takes the form of mentally setting an intention. It focuses the will to be fully present, attentive, responsive and responsible (i.e. able to respond to the patient). The healer consciously puts his/her skills, talents, time and energies at the disposal of The Force, and deliberately resists the desire to intervene. A further form of action is the courage required to move into that psychic “space” where we (ego mind) don’t know when, where or how we will be put to use.

Allow mode also requires trust, because we don’t know. We operate, when in allow mode, relying that we will be guided, at the right time, to the right place, to connect with the right people. We trust that we will be given all that we need to do the task we are given.

The opposite of allow mode is “making it happen.” The Second Wave world is addicted to “making it happen.” The Second Wave world insists on control, being in control, staying in control, because of its illusion that we are in control and can control the world. The Second Wave world believes not only that it can “make it happen,” but that it can know what it should do or make happen. This is the cause of many, if not all, of the problems in contemporary life.
How Allow Mode Relates to Waking Up and Leap Frogging

A key facet of waking up is subordinating the ego to the Self (our Divine core). This is difficult because the ego doesn’t like to relinquish control. Every such experience feels, to the ego, like a defeat. To become conscious of the Self, to become aware of how our ego operates, and to place the ego under the Self takes effort.

Jesus spoke of this effort when he talked of those worthy of him taking up their cross and following him, and “losing their lives for his sake.” The consequence of such loss is finding one’s life. This paradox bears a bit of examination.

Spiritual reality is paradoxical. Jesus knew this. He often confounded the priests, scribes and teachers of the law with his habit of talking in paradoxes. The one in Matthew 10:38-39 is classic:

“…anyone who does not take his cross and follow after me [i.e. use my life as a model] is not worthy of me. Whoever invents/creates his life [on the material plane], will ruin/destroy it [on the spiritual plane] and whoever gives up his life [on the material plane] for my sake [i.e. to follow Divine guidance] will gain it [on the spiritual plane].
Allow mode is closely connected to crucifying the ego and making the conscious choice to use Jesus as a model. Doing so involves giving up or “losing” one’s (ego-driven) life. When we make this sacrifice, we “find” life on the spiritual ...]]> Wed, 05 Nov 2008 13:16:44 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=25 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=24

The Forms and Value of Death

The Second Wave mind-set would regard the title of this essay as bizarre because, to the Second Wave world, death is an obscenity, something to be feared, denied, and postponed with all the herculean measures allopathic medicine can muster. In this, as in so much else, the conventional view is very confused and mistaken, as well as impoverished in its understanding.

By “impoverished,” I refer to the one-dimensional sense given to “death” in Western society, with its materialistic bias. Death, from this perspective, is extinction. It blots out life, ending all personal existence. “Life,” in this view, is tied to having a physical body.

A Third Wave view is much richer, in part because “death” is recognized as having many forms and meanings. There is Death, the archetypal experience found in all cultures and experienced by all life forms. Imagistically, this form is often depicted as a skeleton in black, with a scythe: the “Grim Reaper.” Then there is death as transition, the form recognized in the ancient wisdom of many cultures (Egyptian, Tibetan, the kabbalah of Jewish mysticism, etc.). This is the form of death that the dictionary defines as “any ending that is like dying.” And there is the death that is part of the process of living. This death, with its multiple stages, has been well described and delineated by medieval alchemists.

In the Third Wave mind-set, death is not an unmitigated disaster to be denied, avoided or resisted. It is recognized as natural, inevitable and frequent. That is, everyone dies multiple times (and I don’t imply here a belief in reincarnation). I’m talking about this life you have now. Each of us dies many times, and part of waking up is getting wise to when we are going through another death, what it is about and how we can realize the potential in the process.

In this essay I am going to examine the archetypal and alchemical stages of death, and then consider the transitional meanings of death. The goal is to demystify the concept, and to illustrate how death is central to living and growing.
Death as Archetype

Archetypes are timeless, universal symbols that “live” in human beings. Jung believed that there are as many archetypes as there are experiences we can have. “Father,” “Mother,” “child,” “sun,” “birth,” “suffering”—all are examples of archetypes. Since the experience of death is common to all cultures, death is also an archetype.

Halloween has made most of us familiar with the images, colors and accessories associated with the archetype of Death: the skeleton (loss of embodiment depicted as lack of flesh); the color black; a tool of harvest (e.g. scythe) representing the sense of Death collecting the energy of the no-longer-living; cemeteries; and midnight (the cusp time, when one day’s allotment of time has run out, parallel to the depletion of the time given to one life). Feeling associations run all to the negative: fear, grief, terror, anxiety, powerlessness.

But archetypes are purposive. That is, they arose for some purpose or serve some universal need. What could be the purpose of death?

To the Second Wave thinker, this is an idiotic or obscene question. Death being the enemy, it has no good or purpose about it. But Second Wave thinking is wrong, as we can see from the ancient wisdom of other cultures.
Death as Seen through the Lens of History and Eastern Cultures

Western people have not been as confused and mistaken about death as we are these days. The ancient Egyptians, for example recognized death as part of life. From their “Book of the Dead” to their elaborate funerary arrangements brought to light by archeology, we can see just how much thought, time and energy the ancient Egyptians gave to the process of dying and the care of the physical remains. To them, death was no obscenity, but the gateway to another life.

Ancient Greeks had no qualms about facing death. They thought of death as the twin brother of sleep. Just as we experience sleep on a regular basis, so we experience death. The mystery religions of the Greco-Roman world also addressed the forms and processes of death, and understood it as one of the great “mysteries” of reality.

After the fall of Rome, the subject of death was taken up in Western Europe by two groups. One, the medieval alchemists, we will consider later. The other, the Roman Catholic Church, developed elaborate rituals and teachings, in part because of the prevalence of death in this time when good hygiene was generally lacking and no one knew about germs as the cause of disease. In certain periods, like the time of the Black Death of the 14th century, pandemics led to death being uppermost in the minds of most people, as up to half of the population succumbed in some regions of Europe.

With such death rates, the experience of death was unavoidable, so the medieval church developed a set of spiritual exercises and rituals known as the ars boni moriendi, “the art of dying well.” Using the “memento mori,” e.g. a human skull, and other visual aids, the church encouraged people to contemplate death, and in particular, their own coming death. People kept watch over corpses (a residual legacy of which lingers now in the phenomenon of the “wake”) and watched dead bodies decay. Through such exercises (which strike most modern Western people as ghoulish), medieval men and women became acquainted with the process of dying and deadness in vivid ways—ways that helped them to dis-identify with their bodies. ...]]> Sat, 25 Oct 2008 08:28:37 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=24 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=23

The Gift of Suffering

The title of this essay likely induces one of two responses. The charitable response assumes there’s been some sort of typo of rather large proportion, like a whole word switched for another, i.e. “gift” got put in place of another word like “tragedy” or “misfortune.” Less charitably, one might respond that the author has clearly lost her mind, if she think suffering can be regarded as a gift!
The first response, while kind, is erroneous: there’s no typo. “Gift” is what I meant. As for the second, I can only ask that you bear with me, read on, and pass judgment on my mental state at the end of the essay. Perhaps it won’t seem as crazy then as it might at first glance.

I shall begin as I do in many of these essays, with an examination of the meaning and etymology of the key words. Then I’ll consider how the title might make sense, and finish up by relating the theme of suffering to the wake up/leap frog process.

The Meaning of “Suffering”

Our English word “suffer” comes from two Latin words, sub and ferre, meaning literally “to carry under.” When we “suffer,” we carry our pain under. Under where? Under our heart, because pain is a feeling and the heart is the area that processes feelings.

Because I know that etymologies carry a deep wisdom, I mulled over this sense of “carrying under the heart” for some time. What did the ancient Romans know that we have forgotten? After thinking about this for some time with the back burner of my mind, I had an intuition that led me to check my old physiology textbook. The organ that is under the human heart is the spleen, whose task it is to purify the body of toxins (especially bacteria and worn out blood cells). It also stores and releases blood as the body needs it. The spleen, in other words, helps us stay healthy by processing and removing the old or what would endanger our health, while it provides us with energy and resources (blood).

Since there are no coincidences, it is not by chance that the psychological equivalent of the spleen is the act of carrying pain under the heart, or what Jung calls “conscious suffering.” “Whoa!,” you say. Bear with me. I’ll make the connection clear.

Another Latin meaning for sub + ferre conveys the psychological sense. These two words joined as a compound can mean “to take upon oneself.” When we “take upon ourselves” the pain that human embodiment is heir to—that is, when we refuse to repress, deny or avoid facing reality as it is, we do psychologically what the spleen does for us physically: We help ourselves to stay healthy by avoiding the development of mental illness or neurosis. We also free up or release energy that otherwise would go into repression.

Types of Suffering

Carl Jung identified two forms of suffering: meaningless and meaningful. Meaningless suffering is everywhere, being part of the human condition, as the Buddha recognized. This existential suffering is the result of our trying to avoid pain, by denial and repression. None of us wants pain. We naturally shun it. But doing so is like the spleen refusing to do its job. It leads to big trouble, dis-ease, and real problems. In the realm of the psyche, these are called “neuroses.” Jung identified the long-term habit of repression (our “stuffing” unpleasant feelings, facts, etc. within) as the cause of neuroses.

Because we all do this, we are all “neurotic” to one degree or another. This is “meaningless” suffering because it makes no sense, has no significance, and gives us no benefit. This form of suffering, in other words, is not a gift.

The form of suffering that is meaningful comes when we stop repressing and take up our moral task as humans to deal consciously with our pain. In this process, we take up the pain that is endemic to living and work with it, in the knowledge that pain has a purpose. It is a warning, with an intrinsic message. We need to listen to our inner voices to learn this message.

To do this, we allow the full range of emotions to flow through us, without putting up resistance to the process. We set the intention to experience the full range of feelings—be they good or bad. This requires moral courage, but, while it is uncomfortable (especially in the early stages), it affords the same benefits as a well-working spleen: We are more resilient. We have more energy. Our spirit is purified. And, most of all, we begin to be aware of the meaning behind the pain we experience. As the Buddha said, the more conscious we become, the less we suffer. The development of consciousness serves to deliver us from meaningless suffering.

Suffering as a Gift

Ernesto Cardenal said succinctly what I mean here: “…even my pain is God’s loving gift.” Now you might well wonder not only at my sanity, but at Cardenal’s! The word “gift” has positive connotations. When we receive a “gift” it is a good thing. How can suffering be seen as something good?

Surely meaningless suffering (as defined above) is no gift. But suffering consciously undertaken, worked with, processed and explored to the point that we recognize its meaning—this suffering is a gift, with a wonderful host of associated benefits. Let’s consider some of the ways suffering gifts us.

 Meaningful suffering makes true happiness possible. Jung recognized this when he noted that “… happiness is itself poisoned if the measure of suffering ...]]> Thu, 04 Sep 2008 08:13:55 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=23 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=22

Redefining Success

How do you define “success”? What does it mean to you to be “successful”? For most people, at least in the Second Wave (Western) world, success means “the gaining of wealth, position, or other advantage.” This is the standard dictionary definition, implying things like advancement, “upward mobility” (e.g. rising from a mid-level management position to the top of the corporate hierarchy), getting or being rich, having power or status, achieving a prominent social position, or gaining acclaim or a respected reputation in one’s career (e.g. recognition as an “expert”).

In Second Wave reality, the opposite of “success” is failure, something to be avoided. From earliest childhood we are taught to seek success and try to avoid failure. This is particularly true in those families where children are extensions of the parental ego: the child must succeed so that the parent looks good in the eyes of family and friends. So there is an ego investment involved in the whole notion of “success.”

Comparison with others is also involved in our conventional attitudes about success. The “successful” person advances beyond other people, or gains advantage, compared to some others. There’s an element of “one-upmanship” that figures in this concept.

Some definitions of success are situational. A whimsical piece that went around the U.S. in April and May 2001 illustrates this:
“Life’s a test and you’re graded on a curve. At age 4, success is not peeing in your pants. At age 12, success is having friends. At age 16, success is having a driver’s license. At age 20, success is having sex. At age 35, success is having money. At age 50, success is having money. At age 60, success is having sex. At age 70, success is having a driver’s license. At age 75, success is having friends. At age 90, success is not peeing in your pants.”

Common to all these definitions of Second Wave “success” is something rarely recognized but at the core of Second Wave thinking: the whole orientation is external, i.e. focused on the physical, tangible reality “out there.” Wealth, power, position, rank, class, status, behavior—all are part of life “out there.”

By this point, if you have assimilated the Second Wave worldview, you are probably feeling a bit confused, wondering what I mean by “external.” Perhaps you are asking yourself what other reality there is. Of course “success” is defined in terms of tangible reality!

The Second Wave world does not readily admit the existence of the “inner city” and the internal world each of us inhabits. Every bit as much as we live in the outer world of matter, we also live enmeshed in an inner world—what Jungians call the “inner city.” In its materialism and positivism, the Second Wave world dismisses this inner reality as “subjective,” non-quantifiable, immaterial, and therefore bogus. But “waking up” and leap-frogging are centrally related to the inner world, with its very different notion of success.

Third Wave Definitions of Success

The emerging Third Wave world has very different approaches to many aspects of life, and success is one of them. As I point out in many essays in this collection, Third Wave thinking returns often to the wisdom of the ancients that are embodied in the etymologies or root meanings of words. So let’s examine the linguistic roots of “success.”

Our English word comes from two Latin roots: sub and cedere. The compound literally means “to go up, ascend, advance” (i.e. the Second Wave meanings), but also “to come under, submit to, follow, or enter into a relationship with.” “Huh?,” says the Second Wave thinker. “Success has nothing to do with following or submission!” Certainly not in the Second Wave world. But it has everything to do with it in the emerging Third Wave reality.

This is because the Third Wave appreciates the inner life and the host of internal energies each of us can turn to for guidance and direction, and these are what we are meant to submit to and follow. As for entering into a relationship, what the ancient Vedic tradition (and later Carl Jung, who borrowed from the Vedas) call “the Self” (our Divine core) is the inner figure we relate to when we succeed. The voice of The Force (heard via dreams, intuitions etc.) is what we are to follow.

What does this Third Wave definition of “success” look like? It is not about externalities. It is not projected out, as Second Wave success is. By “projected out,” I mean that success is not defined in terms of tangible things, or other people’s opinions or evaluations. Therefore, it is not as vulnerable to being lost as Second Wave success is. When success depends on what other people think, or on what one has, it can be very easily lost. Third Wave success is different: It arises from inner clarity, self-awareness, and a sense of personal identity. It has no need to compare self to others, but focuses on integrity and authenticity, i.e. being truly who we are and true to our own values and identity.

Rather than striving for external forms of power (Second Wave forms that try to control others and get them to do one’s will) Third Wave success focuses on moving into one’s own inner power as an agent of The Force. Then it seeks to empower others by sharing this inner power in personal relationships (familial, workplace etc.).

Rather than trying to get ...]]> Thu, 07 Aug 2008 13:52:50 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=22 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=33

Spiritual Literacy

One of the most important abilities for leap-froggers, and a major characteristic of people waking up, is spiritual literacy. “Say what?” is a common response from Western people hearing the phrase for the first time. We tend to think of “literacy” as having to do with words and the verbal skills of reading and writing. To understand the subject of this essay, we need to consider the deeper meanings of “literacy,” before tackling the meaning of spiritual literacy.
Definitions of Literacy
Dictionaries define “literacy” as “the ability to read and write.” The conventional meaning is strictly verbal. A better, more inclusive definition would be “the ability to recognize the meaning in certain shapes, signs or marks.” The intellectual/verbal bias of the Western tradition ignores many valuable forms of literacy, e.g.
the literacy of the native tracker/hunter, whose “letters” are the animal foot prints, spores, bent grass, wind direction etc. All these the skilled hunter can “read” to get the information he needs to find prey. The San people of the Kalahari are supremely “literate” in this sense, while urbane Westerners plunked down in the middle of the wilderness are in peril of their lives due to their illiteracy.
the literacy of the animal and infant human being, who are able to pick up the meaning and intentions of adults by tone of voice, facial expression and body language. Pet owners who observe their pets know that domesticated animals like cats and dogs are keenly able to “read” signs that we often are quite unconscious of.
the literacy of the seer or enlightened master. Tibetan physicians refer intractable cases of illness to such masters, who are able to read deep into the soul of the patient to perceive the spiritual problem at the root of the disease. Likewise, masters who supervise meditators in Buddhist vipassana meditation practice can “read” the psychological state of their pupils.
the literacy of the mystic or “awake” person. This is the type of literacy we will be focusing on in this essay. What those who are asleep fail to recognize as signs (and then, of course, fail to see as meaningful) the awake can recognize as significant, and can then “read” on many different levels.
Definitions of Spiritual Literacy
Reflecting the limitations of its materialistic orientation, the Second Wave world has no definition for spiritual literacy. In the last few years, as part of the “melding” of Eastern thought with Western culture, the term “spiritual literacy” has begun to surface in the West. It is not a new concept. As noted above, ancient people and Eastern cultures have been aware of it for millennia. Native American Indians call it “reading sign.” Medieval Catholic monks described it as “reading the book of the world.” Quakers refer to it in their practice of “praying the Ordinary.” And Buddhists speak of it as the 84,000 “dharma doors” that exist all around us for our benefit and learning.
The root meaning of some of our English words conveys the centrality of spiritual literacy to a life rightly lived. Consider, for example, the word “disaster.” It comes from Latin dis and aster, meaning “to be cut off from the stars.” When we are spiritually illiterate, we are estranged from our cosmic roots or connections. Being able to “read the book of the world” means that we are aware of our connectedness to the rest of life, and can see reality “with the eyes of the Earth.” Being spiritually illiterate is literally a “disaster.”
Spiritual literacy allows us to recognize “that the whole world is charged with sacred meaning.” There is nothing in our reality that is not meaningful; nothing that cannot offer us something by way of incitement for growth, learning, or expression of gratitude and awe. No matter how mundane, everyday objects can serve as our spiritual facilitators, if we are able to read the signs they present to us. Our bodies speak to us constantly, sometimes loudly (in various forms of illness or discomfort), sometimes in ways so subtle that we can barely perceive the message. Shakespeare spoke of the “sermons in stone” that are available to us, if we can discern them. Morris Berman speaks of our contemporary need to “reenchant the world,” if we are to address successfully the global environmental crisis. As ancient as it is, spiritual literacy is very much a skill for which the modern world has a pressing need.
Elements of Spiritual Literacy
Verbal literacy requires several things: training, teachers, books, a certain level of intellectual capacity, and usually some form of technique (like phonics). Spiritual literacy is different. We already have what is needed: the webs of life; the physical world; fears, wounds and the host of other human emotions; a body with its range of senses, responses and instinctual rhythms. We don’t have to go buy books, find a teacher, take training or worry that we’re not smart enough (some of the most spiritually literate individuals are the “mentally challenged”). Spiritual literacy is not a “head trip,” in the sense of something requiring cognitive development. It requires other things, like attention, being present, compassion, devotion, enthusiasm, faith, forgiveness, grace, gratitude, hope, hospitality, imagination, kindness, listening, love, nurturing, openness, playfulness, a questing attitude, reverence, silence, vision, wonder, yearning and zeal.
By saying that we have all we need, I don’t mean to imply that teachers aren’t helpful. They are. But we don’t have to search for one, because they are all around us. But not usually in the form we think of as verbal literacy teachers (i.e. humans). Teachers of spiritual literacy are just as likely to be animals, plants, ...]]> Wed, 09 Jul 2008 08:57:46 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=33 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=21

“Resist Not Evil”

The title of this essay is a quote from Jesus’ “Sermon on the Mount.” Mahatma Gandhi meant the same thing when he said, “Non-cooperation with evil is as much a duty as cooperation with good.” Both Jesus and Gandhi were drawing upon a very important principle of which leap froggers, and any people interested in working for change, should be aware. The purpose of this essay is to examine this principle and relate it to the leap frog option. But before doing so, we must be clear about what is meant by “evil.”
Definitions of “Evil”

Readers who have been through college courses in Western civ or humanities might be bracing themselves for a long philosophical disquisition, since the question of evil has occupied many philosophers over the ages. But have no fear! This will not be philosophical, although I will give a passing nod to Plato, whose definition of evil (as the absence of good) is one of the most succinct. Rather than getting into philosophy, I want to review some of the practical (hands-on, useful, applicable) definitions.

Standard dictionaries tell us that “evil” is that which is “morally bad, wrong, sinful or wicked,” that which “causes harm or injury,” that which is unfortunate. This is OK, as far as it goes, but it misses the richer meanings offered by comparative linguistics and etymology.

The ancients understood that “evil” has three aspects: mental (what we think of as “wrong” or “bad”), physical (what we experience in our bodies as causing pain, harm or suffering), and affective or emotional (what causes negative feelings or responses, in us or in others). In this multi-level definition, “evil” is not only wickedness but also ugliness: that which is disordered or chaotic. To the ancient Greek mind there was a close link between the beautiful and the good. The Greek term for “universe” was kosmos, i.e. “that which is ordered.” The heavens and earth were orderly, and this order was regarded as beautiful and good. The Greeks regarded anything that destroyed this orderliness and beauty as “evil.”

A few centuries after Plato and the heyday of classical Greece, when the authors of the New Testament were creating their Gospel accounts and epistles, they used three terms for “evil” that illustrate the richness of the Greeks’ thinking. The first, kakos, carries the meaning noted above: that which is bad is also that which is evil or wicked. The second, poneros, carries the affective meaning of “evil” as that which causes pain or suffering. The third word, used especially in the gospel of John and the epistles of John, James and Titus, is phaulos. This Greek word carries the mental connotation: “evil” as that which is stupid, foolish, unwise, or thoughtless. To the Greeks, always mindful of the intellect, the fool was more likely to commit evil than the wise man.

This is close to the modern psychological definition of evil, as developed by the Swiss psychiatrist Carl Jung. Jung felt the most intractable root of evil was unconsciousness, being unaware of one’s lack of self-awareness. Jung was familiar with St. Paul’s dictum that the root of all evil was the love of money, but Jung realized that loving money was itself more a symptom of a psychological disorder (lack of self-esteem or a basic lack of a sense of security or trust) than an originating cause. The lack of consciousness or insight into one’s personal “stuff” and how it affected daily living was what the Greek meant by phaulos. Ignorance, indifference, unconsciousness will cause suffering, harm, disorder—all forms of evil.

Beyond classical and New Testament sources, we can consider our own English language roots for further insights. What is the opposite of “evil?” Holy. The etymological root of “holy” is the Old English hal. This is also the root of our words “hale,” “health,” and “whole.” Speakers of Anglo-Saxon (the language that became the basis for modern English) felt that if you are whole (undivided, possessed of integrity) you are holy. Conversely, what is not whole, or not well is “dis-eased,” or evil. As causes of suffering, sickness could be regarded as a form of evil.

So, let’s recap. Evil is:
• what is morally bad or wrong (the refusal to be responsible for one’s shadow side)
• what causes harm, injury or suffering, that “which ought not to be,” the evil which is inflicted
• what is disordered, or destructive of natural orderliness
• what is foolish, ignorant or unknowing
• what is unconscious or perpetuates unconsciousness (e.g. insensitivity or lack of awareness)
• what destroys integrity, ruptures wholeness, or causes disease or pain, the evil which is undergone
These definitions give us a set of useful criteria for evaluating what is evil and what is good, without resorting to philosophical hair-splitting. We can now consider Jesus’ and Gandhi’s statements. We will do so on two levels.

Level I: The Level of Universal Law

The Greek writer who translated Jesus’ Aramaic into the phrase “resist not evil” used a Greek verb (antistanai) that means “to set oneself against.” Jesus urged his listeners not to set themselves against what causes suffering. In other words, what we find distressful we should not resist or oppose. Gandhi similarly spoke of our duty not to cooperate with evil. What were these two wisdom figures trying to tell us? Surely not to cave in to evil, or let it run over us.

Not at all. Both Jesus and Gandhi understood the wisdom in the universal law that says “what you resist, persists.” Another wording for this law is “Reality grows where attention goes.” That is, what ...]]> Fri, 06 Jun 2008 13:33:02 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=21 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=20

Relinquishing the “Addiction to Perfection”

Western civilization is “addicted to perfection.” We are taught from childhood to drive ourselves, to “make our best better,” to compete in ever-more-competitive arenas, never to be satisfied, but to keep raising the bar or level of standard that we set for ourselves. We operate in the belief that perfection is desirable, if not actually possible.

Question this belief in the value of perfection as an ideal, and many Western (or Westernized) people will defend it as part of orthodox Christian dogma, citing the more than two dozen references to perfection in the New Testament. But what most people don’t realize is that Christian orthodoxy, and all the subsequent cultural developments related to it, are built on a fundamental mistranslation of the five Greek words used in the New Testament for “perfection.”

The Roots of Our Addiction to Perfection

The five Greek words are teleio, holokleros, katartizo, epiteleo, and pleroo. Teleio means “to complete, fulfill, finish, or bring an end to.” Holokleros is an adjective meaning “entire, complete, in all its parts,” compounded of two words meaning “whole” (holos) and “allotment” (kleris). Katartizo means “to furnish completely, to readjust, or put in order again.” Epiteleo is a compound verb based on teleo, meaning “to complete, finish or accomplish.” And pleroo means “to make complete or full; to fulfill.” These words occur repeatedly in statements made by Jesus, Paul, John, James, and Peter that urge us (in the orthodox version) to “be perfect,” “be made perfect,” “aim for perfection,” “attain perfection,” “present everyone perfect,” “make perfect those who draw near to worship,” “be righteous men made perfect,” and “be a perfect man.” The original Greek, however, had something quite different in mind.

The authors of the New Testament drew upon sources that were written by men thoroughly steeped in the Hebraic concepts of ancient Judaism. Jesus was familiar with these concepts, including that of shalom. Shalom is rich in meanings and impossible to render in a single English word. It is usually translated as “peace,” but “peace” in the sense of the peace of mind and spirit that comes from being in harmony with Creation, being in a state of wholeness or fulfillment. When Jesus urged people to be “perfect” (Greek teleioi), very likely he had the concept of shalom in mind. That is, he was really urging them to live, work and strive toward the peace that comes from completeness or wholeness—not a private or shallow wholeness, but a wholeness that “ensouls the world.” Jesus was calling people to fulfillment in the fullness of their humanity, to focus on achieving the glorious end appointed to all persons by virtue of their humanity. Jesus recognized what a wonderful blessing it is to be incarnated in a human body, to enjoy life in materiality, to absorb the lessons that are possible for a soul to learn only while on the physical plane. He also knew each of us has a unique set of talents and a particular destiny—that special purpose, work or service that we are meant to fulfill.

This is the true meaning of teleios. If we want to reach our goal, to complete our life’s mission, to know the peace of shalom, the satisfaction of fulfillment, we must give up money-grubbing, let go of grasping and selfishness, and follow Jesus’s example. This has nothing to do with perfection, and everything to do with realizing our divinely-appointed destiny.

When Paul urged the people of Corinth to “aim for perfection,” the verb he used (katartizo) meant “to work to become complete, healed, mended or restored.” Likewise, with James, John and the author of Hebrews. They exhort us to become whole, integrated, healed, fully accomplished in the development of our divine gifts. The goal of life, in other words, is to reach our appointed end, much as an acorn realizes its destiny in growing into a glorious oak tree.

So what happened? How did the original meaning get lost? Students of this issue target the patriarchal bias of “spirit-based” religion, which focuses on the disembodied spirit, and plays down the soul and the physical plane. The spirit world is ungrounded, out of touch with physical life. As the product of mentation, the spirit lives in abstractions, focused on ideals. In the rarefied world of spirit, perfection is one attribute of the Divine, one of the Platonic ideals.

In the several centuries after Jesus’s death, as the New Testament canon was developed, neo-Platonic influences crept into Christianity, showing up most clearly in the interpretation of the five terms noted above. Rather than the original focus on shalom, wholeness or completion, realizing one’s innate human powers, the focus shifted to the unrealizable ideal of perfectability.

By this point, you might find yourself saying, “OK. That’s all very interesting, but why does it matter to me? What does it have to do with waking up and the leap frog option?” Here’s the connection.

Why This Matters to Those Waking Up and Leap Frogging

The whole issue of perfectionism is crucial to the leap frog and wake up processes for many reasons. First is the fact that the quest for perfection is a hopeless endeavor, which is why it becomes an addiction. Trying to be perfect is a foolproof strategy to foster guilt, shame, self-hatred and a sense of personal inadequacy. In our patriarchal culture, the notion of perfection as the goal or standard served church leaders well, in terms of keeping control over people, because it encourages feelings ...]]> Mon, 05 May 2008 07:17:32 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=20 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=19

“In the Grip of the Daimon”

The title of this essay is a direct quote from Carl Jung, as he described his own life in Memories, Dreams and Reflections. He used the phrase as partial explanation of his life’s work: He lived, wrote and developed analytical psychology as a consequence of being “in the grip of the daimon” that lived within him. What did he mean? To understand this, we need to define the term “daimon.” Then I will relate the concept to the themes of waking up and leap frogging.
Definitions of “Daimon”
The word “daimon” is Greek, deriving from , “to divide or distribute destinies.” The “daimon” is the energy or being in the Universe that gives us our fate or allots human destiny, i.e. a god/goddess. The Romans took up the term, which became the source of our English derivative, “demon.” But note that, in the original meaning, and the sense in which Jung used it, “daimon” is not the negative thing we associate with “demons.”
Being well versed in the classics, Jung brought many ancient concepts into modern usage in psychology, to foster our understanding of the workings of the unconscious. The “daimon” became a central part of his thinking about vocation, motivation, creativity and the individual’s potential for achieving fulfillment in life.
As Jung used the term, “daimon” referred to something alien from the unconscious, an “archetype” or “numinous imperative which from ancient times has been accorded a far higher authority than the human intellect.” As an archetype, the “daimon” is universal, something experienced in all peoples and cultures. Among indigenous tribes, it shows up as a “primitive power concept.” As “an autonomous psychic content,” the daimon is a “force as real as hunger and the fear of death.” Because it is autonomous, it behaves within us like a god, making demands of us and acting with authority. The poet and potter M.C. Richards describes the experience of the daimon well when she says, “There lives a creative being inside all of us and we must get out of its way for it will give us no peace unless we do." Beside Jung, multiple figures in history have acknowledged being in the grip of a daimon, e.g. the Greek philosopher Socrates, the German poet Goethe, and the French ruler Napoleon.
When we say the daimon is “autonomous,” we mean that it is not under the control of the ego consciousness. It is superior to our ordinary consciousness, and can possess us without our conscious awareness. Its expression cannot be consciously willed, and the more our unconscious is split off from consciousness, the larger and more powerful the daimon is.
The daimon shows up in life as certain feeling states, with a “release of affect.” That is, we feel something, usually something powerful, something with numinosity—an energy that cannot be gainsaid. It can seem like we are being taken over, because the level of intensity and energy exceeds normal human limits. When we are in its “grip,” the daimon will make us feel like we are caught up in a force or process that is carrying us along. And so, it requires courage to deal with, because we don’t fully understand this force, or know where we are being carried, or what we are being led to undertake. Nor do we often recognize this force as something that is our own.
In its workings, the daimon tends to be compensatory, i.e. it functions as a countervailing force relative to our conscious mood of the moment. If we are “up,” the daimon will be “down.” If we are in the doldrums, the daimon will be energetic and upbeat. The daimon, in other words, holds the “tension of opposites,” with its good and bad aspects.
Let’s consider the bad aspects first. The negative side of the daimon explains the English derivation “demon:” that within us that forces us to impose suffering on ourselves. “The Devil made me do it!,” we say. “Devil,” “seducer,” “tempter,” “evil spirit”—all are terms for the negative side of the daimon, which will drive us into untrodden regions and create conflicts between our outer life and inner demands. When the daimon shows up, it often seems unwelcome and intrusive, a source of discomfort, something to be endured. If we could, we would ignore it, but it is ineluctable, i.e., it is that which must be obeyed.
In its benign aspect, the daimon is our “guardian angel” or “genius,” our better self or inner voice, our heart or “higher man”—the part of us that helps build our strength by leading us into challenging situations and giving us the guidance to get through them. The daimon fosters a dialogue between ego and unconsciousness which can heal us and make us whole. By challenging the whole of our being, the daimon forces us to enter the fray of life with every function or ability we have, and this fosters our wholeness. It is the contact with our daimon that gives us a clear sense of our vocation. Jung also noted the close connection between the daimon and creativity: “The fight against the paralyzing grip of the unconscious calls forth man’s creative powers.” Finally, and most relevant to the leap frog option, the daimon pulls us out of conventions and social norms, because it operates in the archetypal (universal, timeless) realm. Which brings us to the question: how does all this relate to the themes of waking up and leap frogging?
The Daimon and Waking Up
One of the activities that is central to “waking up” is the process of ...]]> Mon, 31 Mar 2008 09:52:47 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=19 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=18

Time, Space and Patience

The process of waking up involves many things, but none so centrally as the three essentials of time, space and patience. The great American prophet and healer, Edgar Cayce, regarded these three as “fundamental measurements of a soul’s experience in the physical world,” absolutely central in the life of any person who is in the process of waking up. Why is this so? To understand the emphasis Cayce put on these three features of life, we need to clarify the meaning of each, and then examine their role in the process of waking up.
Time
The English language is very rich in its meanings for the word “time:” There are at least 20 different dictionary definitions or usages for this simple word, from “a defined interval” to “a unit of meter in prosody.” This suggests just how much English is focused on temporal concerns, unlike, say, the Hopi, who have no tenses in their languages, and little concern for measuring, dividing, allotting, buying, or killing time.
How very different the Second Wave world is from that of the Hopi! Not only do we reify time, i.e. turn it into something quantifiable, dividable, and concrete, we equate it with money, and set it as the gold standard for business performance in the new idiom “24/7 365,” meaning operations that never close or take holidays. To the Western mind, and especially the New York mind, time is life’s tyrant, forcing us to go faster, faster in the mindless rush born of “hurry sickness,” in pursuit of deadlines that get shorter and more and more unrealistic. If we want something, we don’t want it now: We want it yesterday! And whole industries have arisen to satisfy that lust for speed, e.g. FedEx, DHL, the Internet and scanners, e-signatures, etc.. In this mind-set, time is something to be conquered, as the omnipresent enemy.
Ironically, all this is occurring just as modern science--both physics and medical science--is discovering what ancient peoples like the Hopi and the perennial wisdom have always known: Time is a mental construct, a “root assumption” of our Western culture, without a reality outside of our experience. Einstein showed that time is relative, something we experience in contexts that can make it seem longer (sitting on the hot stove) or shorter (relaxing in the easy chair on the beach in summer). Time is a construct of our own making. At the same time, it is something precious, as our word for the immediate moment—“present”—indicates.
The Indo-European languages all share a mental schema that tenses reality into past, present and future. Few speakers of English ever really think about the labels we put on these divisions of time: “past” comes from the Latin word for step or pace, suggesting the duration or interval it has taken to move across some terrain. “Future” also has Roman roots, from a participle meaning that which is about to be. And “present,” in its Latin origins meant that which is beside us.
People who are awake appreciate the dual meaning of “present.” It is not only the NOW moment—our point of power—but also a true “present,” or gift from the Universe. In the Second Wave world, very few people live out the truth of this fact. Rather, we live out in the future, making all sorts of plans for how things should be, or worrying about what might happen. Or we live in the past, with recriminations, guilt, shame, remorse and mental anguish full of “if onlys…”. In neither place, past or future, do we have any of the power that is innately ours as human beings. To claim that power, we need to come back into the body—that is, get out of the mental realm where we go when we flee into the future or past--and be here now.
When we return to embodiment, to experience the flow of life in our physical being through our senses, we are in a inner place where we can appreciate time as the cyclical flow it is. The ancient Chinese appreciated time: The Chinese word for “busy” is composed of two ideograms for “heart” and “killing.” When we rush around in our busy-ness, we are literally killing our hearts!
To wake up we must be in the NOW, consciously cherishing time by slowing down, taking ourselves out of the rat race, and giving ourselves free moments of time. Time to relax, to reflect, to be with ourselves inwardly. Time to be fully present to family and friends. Time to “sit in one another’s stillness” and wait together on each other’s growth. Time to play. Time to live in balance, resisting the pressures toward workaholism that are so pervasive in the Second Wave world. Time to live at the soul’s pace. Time to spot all the moments of grace that fill our lives and to savor the epiphanies that The Force offers daily. Time to “waste” time, since “wasted” time is “usually good soul time”. Time to walk, rather than drive. Walking takes on the motion of the soul, according to Plotinus. By walking, we give ourselves more time to commune with our soul. By slowing down, we allow ourselves to enjoy all the good stuff in life.
We are living through the process of a “timeshift” now, when time as we know it is being bent, folded, spindled, mutilated, compressed, condensed, and subject to all manner of deformation as the mad pressures of Second Wave reality try to obliterate it. The only sane response, in such a situation, is to return to the wisdom of our bodies and souls, by consciously choosing to cherish time as one of the key essentials we have to ...]]> Wed, 05 Mar 2008 07:39:55 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=18 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=17

The Faces of Denial

A woman is involved with a man her friends don’t like. When they notice bruises and welts on her arms and face, they ask her what is going on. She replies, “Nothing. Everything’s fine.” Denial.
A child makes it clear she does not want to go away to summer camp. Her mother replies, “It’s for your own good, dear.” Denial.
A teenage boy recounts the circumstances of the motorcycle accident that left him a paraplegic in a monotone voice, as if he were talking about the weather. Denial.
A devout churchgoer speaks up frequently criticizing the immorality and sinfulness of the “heathen” in our society, smugly confident of her moral superiority. Denial.
Five highly educated New Yorkers were riding in a car at night on Long Island in 1998. Four of them saw a huge spaceship or UFO above the car, lingering for 15 to 20 minutes. The fifth man (an M.D.) reported seeing nothing at all. Denial.
The organizer of an international conference worked long and hard to get a famous speaker to give the keynote address. When the celebrity faxed a refusal, the fax somehow mysteriously disappeared, and the conference organizer forgot completely about the disappoint it contained, so all the PR materials later had to be corrected and reprinted. Denial.
The pajamas were blood-stained, and the little girl’s sheets were semen-stained, but she always insisted on holding Daddy’s hand when the family went out for a walk. Denial.
A woman takes up with one man after another, all of whom turn out, over time, to be “losers.” She finally concludes “There are no good men out there.” Denial.
Harriet is a “pillar” of the local church, always active, always to be counted on when anything needs to be done, never idle for a moment, the first to volunteer for any chore or help someone in need. No one can remember a time when Harriet had a need, when someone helped her. When asked about this, Harriet assured her questioner that she was happily self-sufficient. Denial.
A marriage counselor was consulted by a couple having marital difficulties. The counselor interviewed each member of the family individually. He had the 8-year-old daughter draw pictures of her favorite dessert, a scene, things that meant a lot to her. She drew a banana split, a tree trunk being cut in half, and a road coming to a Y-shaped intersection. When he asked the little girl whether her family was happy, she replied, “Oh, yes, very.” Denial.
In the days before chemical anesthesia, the British physician James Esdaile, while stationed in India, discovered that hypnosis could be used to anesthetize patients for surgery. At the time in Europe 95% of surgery patients died from the pain of the operation. Esdaile’s hypnotized patients reported feeling no pain, and 95% of them survived their operations. When Esdaile returned to London, he put on a demonstration of surgery under hypnosis for his colleagues at the British College of Physicians and Surgeons, amputating a gangrenous leg while the patient lay smiling. The doctors watched and then declared that Esdaile was fooling them, having hired a rogue to lie there and pretend to feel no pain. Denial.
Dean Ornish (the developer of a non-fat diet system for reversing heart disease) and Robert Atkins (the developer of a widely-used non-carbohydrate diet) had a discussion recently, sponsored by Natural Health magazine. Atkins said that he has gotten reports from 60,000 patients reporting success with his diet. Ornish replied that these results were merely “anecdotal” and meant nothing, because no controlled studies were done to back them up. Denial.
Denial, thy face is everywhere! The above are just a dozen examples illustrating the truth of the many faces of denial. Denial is much more than a river in Egypt. It is a core element of our lives, but, because it is generally an unconscious process, this may not be obvious. In this essay, I’m going to examine why we use denial, the various forms it takes, the effects it has, and how to get wise to it. Then I will consider the positive version of denial, which is a key component of true happiness and spiritual fulfillment. But first, let’s look at the meaning and derivation of the word.
Meanings and Etymology of “Denial”
Our English word came to us from Latin, through the Old French denier. The Latin root is denegare, “to negate.” The prefix “de-“ intensifies the negation. So denial is “the act of saying something is not true; or declaring that one does not hold or accept something.” It also means a disowning or refusal to acknowledge something, a refusal to accept things as they are. In the form of self-denial, it means a “doing without things that one wants.”
“Denial” also has a technical meaning, used in psychology, and this specialized meaning will be our focus. To therapists, analysts and others in the helping professions, “denial” is used to describe an extreme form of self-protection, or a refusal to acknowledge the existence of an external source of anxiety. Students of learning theory recognize denial as a central element of the “closed belief system,” with serious implications for perception and learning. Denial is also one form of defense mechanism, and a core component of most others, like projection, rationalization, reaction formation, displacement, etc.
Why Denial?
Speaking of “defense mechanisms” provokes the question why use denial? What purpose does it serve? “Defense” suggests its purpose: protection. Defense mechanisms are cognitive devices for tampering with reality to avoid pain. They are “self-deceits” ways we keep secrets from ourselves, part of what Freud called the “ostrich policy” found in all people.
We use ...]]> Thu, 31 Jan 2008 16:16:07 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=17 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=16



There’s an old adage that expresses succinctly the content of this essay: “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and you feed him for a lifetime." The first act—giving a fish—is what I mean by “helping.” The second is quite different. It will require more time and effort in the short run, but it will be more beneficial in the long run. Rather than “helping” it might be termed “supporting” or equipping. People who are at the point of choosing the leap-frog option need our support, not our help. To understand this, we need to be quite clear on the difference between “help” and “support.”
The Definition of Help
Helping is an act that does it for the person we are helping. It takes over and fills the need the person has, without thinking of the wider implications. It has been called “playing God,” because it operates from the conviction that we know what the person needs, or ought to do or be. In certain emergency situations—in the aftermath of earthquakes, fires, floods and other natural or personal disasters—this form of aid is necessary, for those needing aid are so traumatized or overwhelmed that they are in no position to do it for themselves. In other, non-emergency situations, helping should be avoided. Why?
Because “helping” operates with a whole set of assumptions (most of which are quite unconscious). These include:
• the belief that the persons we seek to help can’t do it
• the belief that they aren’t qualified
• the belief that they can’t learn or that it would take too long and involve too much trouble to teach them
• the belief that they don’t have what it takes, in terms of resources (like money) or that they can’t afford (in financial or temporal terms) what will be required
• the belief that they don’t understand
• the belief that they aren’t reliable, trustworthy, a good “credit risk” etc.
This list is not exhaustive: there are a lot more such assumptions floating around in the thinking of “helpers,” but this list will give you a feel for the mind-set. This mind-set is closely linked to the historical relationship between the colonial Western powers and non-Western native peoples. In this schema, the “helpers” hold Western values, operate with a Western sense of time, work with Western technologies (many of which are not appropriate to non-Western venues), and lack an appreciation for the essentials of life (like time, space and patience) and for non-Western values.
“Helpers,” in other words, often mean well and are sincere in their desire to improve the lives of those that seem less fortunate, but they intervene with an unconscious sense of superiority, from a viewpoint that is chauvinistic, imperialistic, racist and sexist (i.e. Western). This stance and its beliefs and assumptions are disempowering. The people to be helped are regarded essentially as powerless. This is not an approach, or a set of beliefs, that we want to support.
There is another interpretation that can be made about people who are eager to help others. It is well known among the psychologically savvy that those who are compulsively focused on helping others are most of the time projecting their own “stuff,” and are using their supposed charitable impulses as a clever (and totally unconscious) way to avoid doing their inner work, while getting other people to think well of them (for all their philanthropic gestures). A true story will illustrate this form of “do-good ego trip.” A few years ago, in my practice, a complete stranger called and asked to meet with me to get some advice. Apparently he had heard of me from one of my clients, since I never advertise. A few minutes into our meeting, it was clear that the man was not interested in working with me, but rather wanted a set of rules or guidelines that would make him more effective in his work with other people. I was mystified: It was clear that this fellow fancied himself something of a counselor, but he had no training, no personal experience of analysis, and no history of working with his own dreams. He assured me, in fact, that he never remembered his dreams. But he made it clear that he was very much into helping others (i.e. he had quite a lot of ego investment in his role of “helper”), and he described at length all the people in his circle of contacts that he was helping through their marital problems, illnesses, family troubles, etc. As I listened to all this, I grew more and more aware of acute discomfort in my body—a feeling reaction that I had come to recognize, through years of practice, as a sign of something amiss. It was only in the very last minutes of our meeting that it became clear what was going on. As the man put on his coat, he mentioned in passing, in a very casual way, that his son was in jail for drug use, his wife had left him, and he had a brain tumor. Recognizing that this man would probably never hear the truth from any other source, I asked him if it had occurred to him that, rather than focusing his attention out, to “helping” others, it might be more useful to look within, and get his own house in order before tending to other people. I suggested the possibility that he was using others’ problems as a diversion to keep him from facing his own. That is, I was holding up his projections so he could see them. He assured me that everything was fine in his life (at which point I reminded myself ...]]> Sun, 30 Dec 2007 15:47:52 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=16 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=14
In an earlier book, Wake Up, South Africa!, I defined the “leap-frog option” in relation to South Africa and its future, as a way for it to avoid falling into the “catch-up option” that most people assume must be how South Africa will “succeed.” In choosing to “leap frog,” rather than play “catch up,” South Africa would question the conventional wisdom of the West, rely on its own resources, develop its own solutions, and affirm its confidence in its own abilities. It would refuse to copy the West, or dance to the tune called by Western “experts.” Choosing the “leap-frog option” would result in South Africa reaching a new place by leaping over the West and its ways.
But in focusing on South Africa, I don’t mean to imply that leap-frogging is something appropriate or possible only in South Africa: It is possible anywhere change is needed, anywhere people are behind the eight-ball of Second Wave reality, that is anywhere people are marginalized and suffering.
Features of Leap-Frogging
Leap-frogging is a form of change with key features that distinguish it from reform movements or traditional change processes in Second Wave. Some of these features include:
taking up personal change first. Leap-froggers realize that all lasting, genuine change begins with the individual. If we want to see change “out there,” we can begin only one place: with ourselves. Doing anything else is simply a form of projection (seeing the “speck” in the other guy’s eye, without tending to the “log” in one’s own eye). Leap-froggers refuse to project. They look within first, and change themselves. They also recognize that any “problem” or outer situation is a reflection of an inner state of being, and so they begin with self-analysis, to determine how they are implicated in the problem “out there.” This process leads to another feature of leap-frogging: transformation.
leap-frogging change is transformative change. It works at deep levels, to reclaim both lives and Nature. It supports natural forces and operates consonant with the laws of Nature (including those of ecology, which Second Wave business and economics ignores and denigrates). Transformational change takes 3 forms: in perception (how reality is “seen”); in response (how we react to what we perceive); and in assimilation (how we take in and integrate the new information we see). The result is that both people and their circumstances are irrevocably altered.
leap-frogging turns problems into opportunities. Where Second Wave people see “problems,” leap-froggers see great potential for learning and growth. Carl Jung, the Swiss psychiatrist, noted that problems are never solved so much as they are outgrown. Faced with a “problem,” leap-froggers ask themselves, “How is this situation calling on me to grow or change?” And this shift in attitude (from the negative of the Second Wave mind-set to the positive of the Third Wave) calls up creativity and resourcefulness.
leap-frogging starts where people are. It is local, operating at the grass-roots, with actions that are what Glenn and Mildred Leet call “trickle up.” Rather than looking to the government or outside experts or international aid agencies for a pile of money, leap-froggers look around, at the resources that lie at hand. And even when they have little or no capitalization, they find ways to foster change, often with low-tech solutions that are more suited to their circumstances than those that the World Bank or I.M.F. would import. This is by design, thanks to another feature of leap-frogging: building empowerment.
leap-froggers stress people doing for themselves. This is how empowerment happens. Individuals take responsibility for their own lives, with no “bail outs” or interference from Western “experts” full of their own importance. Leap-froggers realize that the goal is the process: We empower others by regarding them as responsible, competent, capable and then standing back, giving them adequate space to rise to high expectations.
leap-frogging challenges convention, tradition and the status quo. Leap-froggers are inner-directed, rather than tradition-directed (looking to the past for guidance about what to do) or other-directed (looking to other people for guidance). Leap-froggers listen to their own inner voice, in dialog with The Force. As a result, they question tribal traditions, unfair laws, economic inequities, the “scientism” of Western culture, and a host of other limited and limiting belief systems. In this way, leap-frogging is culturally subversive. Not content to fight “old” wars, leap-froggers look to radical approaches (i.e. approaches that get at the “roots” [Latin radix]) in their quest to create a world that works for everyone.
leap-frogging is done mostly by the marginalized. This follows from the law of the retarding lead, which suggests that the leaders of any society are “retarded” in their leadership, and so any push for change is more likely to come from those for whom the old system doesn’t work well. As I noted in the essay on “waking up,” there is a close connection between “waking up” and developing social concern and sensitivity about injustice. So people who are awake are likely to join the marginalized in leap-frogging activities.
Leap-frogging may seem like something new. Certainly the term is novel. But the activity itself is archetypal, i.e. people of courage, inspired by The Force, acting as change agents outside the bounds of their culture and place, have been doing it since the beginning of time. To see examples of this, we need only consult the wisdom literature of humanity: the Bible, the Koran, the Pali canon, the Bhagavadgita. The pages of these sources are replete with examples of people taking up their individual responsibility, accepting the challenge of personal change, achieving transformation, turning problems into opportunities, moving into their own power, working with those less fortunate, developing visions to inspire and energize others, and challenging the status quo.
An Example of Leap-Frogging and its Archetypal Features
An example from one of these ancient sources will help describe what leap-frogging looks like “on the ground.” It is from a Western source (since I know the ...]]> Mon, 03 Dec 2007 16:08:21 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=14 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=12 Definitions of “Waking Up”
Most people would think a definition of “waking up” superfluous, since obviously it means “not asleep.” And that is, in fact, how dictionaries define “awake.” But my usage is far more subtle, being rooted in the esoteric tradition. When we are “waking up” we are in the process of recognizing how we have been “asleep,” i.e. at a lower level of consciousness like sleepwalking.
Charles Tart, a psychologist and university professor, devoted a lengthy book to the subject of waking up. He describes it as a “state of consciousness” that involves a “major alteration in the way the mind functions.” Continue in the process long enough and you reach “enlightenment,” the highest level of consciousness to which we can aspire. Whether high or low, each level is characterized by “state-specific knowledge.”
By “state-specific knowledge,” Tart and other researchers in the field of consciousness mean the information or perspectives that are available or to be found only in a particular state of consciousness. Experiments have shown, for example, that drunks (inebriated people) can learn things that they will have no recollection of later on, when they have sobered up. Drunkenness is a state of consciousness. Sleep is another. Ordinary waking consciousness is a third. This level of consciousness the Russian mystic G.I. Gurdjieff called the “consensus trance” of our culture. He identified higher levels of consciousness as well: “genuine self-consciousness,” characterized by “self-remembering;” and “objective consciousness,” the level at which we realize our unity with all. This “objective consciousness” we tap into in mystical moments, “peak experiences” and epiphanies. Intuition and flashes of inspiration can bring us to this level too, and provide us with types of knowledge unavailable to us at the ordinary level of consciousness.
There are other definitions of “waking up,” and other ways I use the term in the essays in this collection. It is both a journey and a destination. By “journey” I refer to the extended length of time inherent in the process of “waking up.” Like any kind of trip, it takes time to get to where you want to go. And “waking up” can be thought of as the long-term journey to our ultimate destination, as we develop our human potential to realize Jesus’ words “ye are gods.”
There is also a technical or physiological definition of “waking up.” In this context, the 7 energy centers of the physical body (known as “chakras”) begin to operate more fully and clearly, as the kundalini force begins to ascend from its base at the seat of the spine up to the top of the head. In some people, this “kundalini rising” happens spontaneously, accompanied by experiences of heat, fatigue, discomfort, flashing lights before the eyes and curious sounds in the ears. For most people, this form of “waking up” is the product of years of labor and self-denial in a diligent yoga practice under the direction of an enlightened yogi master. There have been cases where foolish Westerners, not aware of the dangers to the physical system that can befall in unsupervised tinkering with the kundalini, caused themselves great harm, and even death. This type of “waking up” must be done under careful direction by a qualified yogi. The end result is the same as with other methods, i.e. (in the words of Gopi Krishna, an Indian authority on kundalini) “unspeakable glory and bliss, beyond the sphere of opposites, free from the desire for life and fear of death.”
What “Waking Up” is Not
“Waking up” should not be confused (but often is) with awareness. Being aware is not the same as being awake. When I speak of “awareness,” I refer to mental, rational ego-based activity—the sort of thinking done by the left brain. A person who is “aware” is knowledgeable about some condition or situation, e.g. environmental awareness. If internalized, awareness can have an impact on one’s values, lifestyle etc. over time, leading to changes in diet, habits, activities, even friends. But the aware person is still enmeshed in Second Wave reality, with its superficialities and unconsciousness.
People who are “awake” have experienced a very different thing. Non-rational, intuitive, right-brain-based processes mediate waking up. Many of these processes go on in the unconscious, and are largely psychological in nature. “Waking up” works at the deepest level of being. There is nothing superficial about it. While it can begin with an “upending moment,” or an instantaneous flash of insight, it takes years to integrate, and people work at it for lifetimes, literally (e.g. many Buddhist tulkus and master teachers). It usually results in massive life changes on every level, such that the person shifts from Second into Third Wave, in terms of values, perceptions and assumptions about life. It also tends to incorporate awareness, that is, the person who is awake is also more aware or supportive of reform, fundamental changes in the outer system, and in working for a world that works for everyone.
“Waking up” is not some short-term change done through a weekend course. New age groups and gurus would have us believe otherwise—that we can achieve “instant enlightenment.” This is bogus. While “satori,” the moment of insight, is instantaneous, the process of waking up is slow and incremental (a good thing, because of all the deep changes it involves—changes that would wreck our physical and mental systems if they occurred all at once). Once a person starts on the path, “waking up” becomes an on-going mode of living. Temporal duration really doesn’t figure in it: It is ...]]> Mon, 05 Nov 2007 11:46:48 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=12 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=10
by

Susan E. Mehrtens


© 2001 Susan E. Mehrtens

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright holder, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

Printed in the United States of America.

Order of Posting on Jungian Center Blog

Front Matter and Introduction October 07
Waking Up November 07
Leap-Frogging December 07
Why “Helping” is Not Appropriate January 08
The Faces of Denial February 08
Time, Space and Patience March 08
“In the Grip of the Daimon” April 08
Relinquishing the “Addiction to Perfection” May 08
“Resist Not Evil” June 08
Spiritual Literacy July 08
Redefining Success August 08
The Gift of Suffering September 08
The Forms and Value of Death October 08
Allow Mode November 08
Pitfalls of the Path December 08

Note: Please read the initial essays—Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging—before reading others of these essays, as these three contain definitions and usages of terms that you will need in order to understand what follows.


Introduction

This section provides some important definitions or explanations of terminology that will appear in the essays that follow—terms like “Second Wave,” “Third Wave,” “The Force” and “The Self.” It also introduces the organizational scheme and presents the philosophy behind the concepts of “waking up” and “leap-frogging” that are at the core of every essay.
Some Key Definitions
The Concept of Growth Curves. We are living in a time of two realities. The old reality we have known is slowly sputtering to an end, full of problems, while a new one is aborning, full of potential. This may be hard for those of us with a Western mind-set to comprehend, because Western thinking tends to be either/or or bi-polar. But this is a both/and time: things are not either good (resilient, likely to go on indefinitely) or bad (short-lived, heading for a fall) but both. How can this be? Because we are living at what George Land and Beth Jarman call a “breakpoint time.”
George Land is a student of living systems. In his book Grow or Die, he described how any living entity comes into being, grows, matures and dies. Plotted graphically, this growth process looks like this:



Land called this pattern of overlapping sinusoid shapes a “growth curve.”
One of the most obvious examples of how these curves show up in reality is in generations: The curve on the left could be the lifetime of a grandparent; the middle curve, the life of a parent; and the curve on the right, the lifeline of the child.
Just as generations overlap in time, so civilizations begin and develop while the older civilization is still in existence. Land drew up a graph of what the civilizations in human history look like:





In this diagram , the growth curve on the left represents human culture in the prehistoric era. The middle growth curve represents Western culture, which began with the rise of cities. It is the old reality human beings have known for many millennia, which is now in the breakdown stage, the reality I mentioned above with all the problems. The growth curve on the right represents the reality of the future, which Land and Jarman feel began in 1776, at the time of the creation of the American Declaration of Independence. This growth curve has many centuries of prosperity ahead of it, and is the second reality I mentioned earlier, the one with potential.
Notice how the curves in the middle and on the right intersect in 2012. George Land and Beth Jarman call this point of intersection the “breakpoint.” A host of ancient sources predicted the date when this will occur: 22 December 2012, just a few years from now.
The Concept of Waves. I developed the habit of speaking of current and future reality as “waves” for two reasons. The first is the obvious way that Land’s diagram looks like waves. The other reason is the inspiration I got from the work of an American social analyst, Alvin Toffler, who wrote The Third Wave in 1980.
In this book Toffler described history as a series of waves, based on the focal point of economic activity. In the First Wave, the focal point was the farm. Agriculture was the dominant mode of production. In the Second Wave, the focus shifted to the factory, as the Industrial era developed. In the last half of the 20th century, Toffler realized, there was another shift underway, as more of the productive labor began to be done in the office. The nexus of economic activity was shifting away from the M-sector (manufacturing) to the S-sector (service industries). Toffer regarded this as a whole new ballgame, which he termed the Third Wave.
In 1990, ten years after Toffler’s Third Wave appeared, Herman Maynard and I wrote a series of essays that later became a book, The Fourth Wave. In it we extended Toffler’s argument to postulate a wave beyond the Third. We also gave Second and Third Waves very different meanings. We used the term “Second Wave” to refer to our current reality, on Land’s old growth curve, which will peter out in the near future. We used “Third Wave” to refer to the new growth curve that has a long-term viable future. This is how I am using “Second Wave” and “Third Wave” in this collection of essays.





It is important to remember that each wave represents an upward shift of consciousness. From the Second Wave mind-set (our current perspective), Third and Fourth Waves seem unrealistic or nonsensical. ...]]> Tue, 09 Oct 2007 16:24:51 -0500 http://jungiancenter.org/blog/blog_comment.asp?bi=10