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Jung’s Prophetic Visions and the Alchemy of Our Time:
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 of civilization, and the drowned bodies of uncounted thousands. Then the whole sea turned to blood. This vision lasted about an hour.... Two weeks passed; then the vision recurred, under the same conditions, even more vividly than before, and the blood was more emphasized. An inner voice spoke. “Look at it well; it is wholly real and it will be so. You cannot doubt it.”

When Jung was asked later in the year what he thought were the prospects for Europe’s future, he replied that he “had no thoughts on the matter,” but added that he had seen rivers of blood. In the Spring of 1914 he had three dreams in which Europe was covered with ice and all the vegetation was killed by frost. World War I broke out 2 months after the last of the three dreams.

During the 1920’s, while most people gave “the Roaring Twenties” its name with their partying and blithe lifestyles, Jung grew more and more aware that the “carefree optimism” was a “groundless illusion.” He began to warn his students to avoid living in fantasy: he intuitively sensed the tension building and, while he did not then know just where it would manifest, Jung was sure there would eventually be another war. This was more than a decade before World War II began.

In 1958 Jung warned people that “an archetype was stirring in a way that was characteristic for ‘the end of an era.’” He knew of the lore in mundane astrology that posits a shift from the Piscean to the Aquarian age and Jung spoke of the upheavals and great changes we can expect during such a major transition. Few people had listened to Jung previously, when he warned of the coming of the two world wars so he had no illusions that he would be heard in 1958, when Cold War concerns so preoccupied the collective mind. But he felt compelled to speak up.

Jung’s gravest warning came three years later, on his deathbed. Reflecting the concern for the well-being of the world that had been a constant feature of his life, Jung’s waning energies were focused not on his children, his psychology, the Institute he founded or his own reputation. Rather, he looked to the future of the world after his death. On May 30, 1961, eight days before he died, Jung dictated to his daughter his last visions, with instructions that the notes were to be given to Marie-Louise von Franz. The images were sobering: “I see enormous stretches devastated, enormous stretches of the earth. But thank God, not the whole planet.” And Jung made a drawing, with a caption under it that said, “The last 50 years of humanity.”

That was in 1961. Fifty years hence would be 2011. The date is interesting, given the Mayan prophecy that speaks of the end of an era in 2012. We have no indication in the historical record that Jung knew of the Mayan prophecies. That he got the same timetable as an ancient people might be another reflection of his keen intuition.

Jung’s last vision—foretelling the destruction of a large part (but not all) of the world—might leave us feeling gloomy, if not despairing. But that was not Jung’s intention: he always worked to support healing, for people and planet and, as part of that intention, he offered us a road map for change. This road map can set his final visions in a larger context. An explication of his road map is the focus of Part II of this essay, which will appear in this blog space next month.


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My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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 such external sources of income. Such thinking is another form of projection, or externalization, in which we shift our loyalty from The Force to the world, from trust in Divine provision to Mammon. Those waking up are learning to live relying on Spirit (i.e. living out the truth that Spirit is primary), knowing that all material, physical needs will be met. One of the lessons in this learning is to be able to distinguish between need and greed (that is, between what is really essential and what we simply want). The Force will provide for our need, but not for our greed. Nor will it provide for careless or wanton wastefulness, which brings us to a second type of temptation.

This is testing the limits of Divine protection. Much as the Devil suggested Jesus throw himself from the Temple roof, relying on God to save him, we can be tempted to push the boundaries of our spiritual protection. When we are living our mission, The Force will protect us, but not if we deliberately do foolish things. Here’s an example from my own experience. I travel frequently to Africa, always by directive dreams. Going where I am sent, I feel safe everywhere. But I consciously avoid falling into the temptation to test The Force: In hotel rooms I use the safes provided by the hotel and I refuse to walk alone in downtown Johannesburg, Karachi, Mexico City or Moscow at 2 A.M. Nor would I venture into the malarial swamps of the Okovango River without shots and pills.

A third temptation is the most insidious, as well as the most harmful and common: the temptation of power and pride. Ego inflation and ego aggrandizement are constant perils on the path to waking up. The ego lusts for control, wants power and wants to think highly of itself. Our inner demon/shadow is constantly tempting us to turn from a focus on Spirit to focus on it. How does this show up? Many ways, e.g.: setting our own agendas, without first seeking inner guidance on how to allocate our time falling back into the values and thinking patterns of the world (i.e. becoming “of the world”) looking outside for approval or approbation from others, so as to feel sure or good about ourselves or our actions
thinking of ourselves as “better” than others. This is the most serious form of pride. This is a form of ego inflation that arises from the very fact of having a higher level of consciousness, even as that higher consciousness makes us realize we are all one, that none is “better” than another. Just as our hand is not better than our foot, so no person is better than another. This temptation is fostered by the left brain’s tendency to dichotomize, or fall into bi-polar thinking, seeing the world in “us-them” terms. This is false.

There is considerable confusion on this point. Saying we are equal is not equivalent to saying we are all the same. We are all equal. We are not all the same. Those awake live lives that work better than the lives of those who are asleep. Those awake are able to perceive more accurately (without distortion) than can those asleep. Those awake get on in personal relationships better than do those asleep. Those awake function more effectively. But these distinctions do not mean the awake are better intrinsically in the eyes of The Force.

These are just three of the many types of temptations that cross our path. While we might wish to eliminate temptations, we should remember the purposiveness of The Force. Temptations are put in our way for a good reason: to stretch us and help us grow. The etymology of “temptation” (from the Latin temptare, to stretch oneself) makes clear that by facing temptations and growing past them, we stretch our willpower and evolve spiritually.

Pitfalls Associated with Lifestyle

There are also problems that relate to lifestyle: how we live in daily reality. The most noteworthy pitfall here lies in the fact that our lives are no longer our own. That is, living is not under the control of the ego and left brain. Thus the ego is not able to plan. This is especially hard on J types (and I speak as one) who love to plan and organize. Waking up means focusing on the Now moment, not in the past, nor in the future. There is a certain measure of spontaneity required in this lifestyle.

We don’t often think about what it means not to “own” our lives. Jesus provides an example. He had very little free time—time when no one sought him out or noticed his absence. He was constantly in demand. He also had very little privacy and opportunity for solitude. For people waking up, time alone for inner work is like manna: It feeds the spirit. Yet such times are rare due to external demands.

Another pitfall of lifestyle is that of inconvenience. The “call” can come at any time. Again, the Gospels provide an example. At one point in Jesus’ ministry, one of his disciples learned his father had died. Jewish law is quite explicit about the responsibility of a son to tend to the proper burial of his father. But Jesus had a very different set of priorities, and he told the man to follow him and “leave the dead to bury their own.” When social convention demands we be some place, or do something, we must be willing to throw all of it over to obey the Divine call, no matter how inconvenient. So often, the ego will want to make up some really good excuse to justify turning a deaf ear. For the work of leap-frogging, we must be prepared to be inconvenienced.

Embedded in the pitfall of inconvenience is the pitfall of new priorities and values. As the above Gospel story indicates, The Force does not necessarily value what we value, or what our society values. We are likely to have to change, to develop another set of values. Our needs will be met, as I noted above, but our greeds will be frustrated. Intangible, spiritual values will have to become the motivating drivers of our lives. Love, courage, fidelity, trust, creativity etc. must replace control, power, wealth, gratification, speed, success. And living with such a different set of values will result in many people who are still stuck in Second Wave thinking wondering about your sanity.

A final lifestyle pitfall is the rootlessness inherent in being part of the “spiritual army.” Jesus noted how he had “no place to lay his head.” Living “on call” to The Force can mean we move around a lot. I know this peril well: I was moved ten times in one 53-month interval! In such situations, “home” has to be redefined spiritually, to be a psychic connection and rootedness in The Force, rather than in some geographic location, physical structure, or connection to family or friends. Like so much else of the wake up process, this will seem very curious to many people we encounter.

All the above pitfalls pale in comparison to the last two types: problems with relationships, and perils in public life.
Pitfalls of Relationship

Jesus’ life is a vivid illustration of these pitfalls. We get no honor among those who know us best. “Only in his home town and in his own house is a prophet without honor.” Yes. Waking up fosters prophetic awareness, as we begin to access and trust our intuition. But we must not expect family and long-time friends to see us in a new light and give heed to what we say. In fact, we must expect just the reverse: family and close friends are likely to be resistant to and resentful of our changing.

Jesus warned of this explicitly. He said that he came to turn sons against fathers, mothers against daughters, children against their in-laws. It is not a happy picture of domestic bliss that he paints in Matthew 10:34-37. Our enemies will be those people in our own household.

Why are family conflicts inevitable in this process? Because waking up implies getting wise to the dysfunctions in our natal family system. We begin to see all the forms of denial our relatives (and we ourselves) have been living in. As we wake up, we stop denying, and that changes the whole dynamic of the system. We change. We recognize the proverbial “elephant” in the living room, and we begin to talk about it, to bring it out into the open. The web of relationships gets tweaked and destabilized, and this causes discomfort to the rest of the family members. People dislike being discomfited. They also dislike having their defense mechanisms pointed out. They bitterly resent having us withdraw the projections we put on them. Such actions are like challenges to their sense of reality. Anger, complaints, and snide comments are likely. In many cases (especially when the family system is seriously dysfunctional) the person waking up will find it easier to move away, to provide the necessary “space” to continue growing without constant criticism.

Old friends tend to react like family—with bewilderment, resentment and accusations like “You’ve changed!” (implying that that is a bad thing). If old friends are not also on the path of waking up, they will eventually fall away, let you down, or become difficult to be around. This, of course, assuming they don’t betray you (as Jesus’ friends did).

A final form of relationship pitfall is the criticism that is likely from others who will project their flaws on us. The Pharisees were constantly doing this with Jesus, always criticizing him for this or that infraction of the law, all the while thinking so self-righteously of themselves. It is very common to find people project their “stuff” on us, either positively or negatively. Negative projections will show up as criticisms, often very vitriolic (reflecting their own shadow “stuff”). Positive projections cause others to set us up as some sort of guru or special person. I call this the “pedestal syndrome.” It is very common. When people do it to me, it makes me acutely uncomfortable, because I know I am very human, and that pedestal space is very small. People projecting their own power, wisdom and Divine guidance come to feel very disillusioned and disappointed when we do something that forces them to take back the projection. In neither negative or positive projection is the person able to see us: he or she is really just looking at the projection.

In sum, it is prudent, when we undertake the wake up process, to expect relationships to be fraught. But we can take comfort in the Universal Law of Attraction: “like attracts like.” As we become more conscious, we will find like-minded people on the path whose level of consciousness is closer to our own. And relationships with such people will be much more rewarding and mutually gratifying. At this time in the evolution of the human species, such people are not in the majority, so expect to experience loneliness, isolation, and lack of understanding at times.
Pitfalls of Public Life

The last pitfall is the most problematic, in terms of physical well-being. By “public life” I don’t meant politics, but rather any form of activity that puts us out in public, to be seen by others. Since leap-frogging means a doing “out there,” in some sort of work that strives to create a better world, it is a “public” activity. As such, it is full of pitfalls. Jesus’ life again affords some examples.

There is the pitfall that takes the form of outcries about our defying social conventions or traditions. Jesus healed on the Sabbath, advocated the ignoring of filial obligations (like not burying one’s father), and threw the money changers out of the Temple. Such activities did not win him friends. Leap-froggers also defy convention, and can expect to hear arguments, naysaying, criticisms and protests.

Then there is the pitfall of being tested by doubters. Any form of innovation brings out the conservatives, who cling to the old ways as their clutchhold on security. Novelty is threatening to such people. Challenge their beliefs and assumptions and they will demand “signs,” i.e. proofs that we have some special kind of power (which then presumably would make us more “credible”). They are the people we hear say, “I’ll believe when I see it.” But they will never see it, because they have the whole thing backwards: in this business of spiritual development and waking up, you see it only if you first believe. When people demanded signs from him, Jesus called them “a wicked and adulterous generation.” And he refused to give them signs. In environments where we confront widespread doubt, we must ignore the demands and move on to more open, receptive venues.

And where are such places? The law of the retarding lead gives us clues. Those open to leap-froggers’ messages are not likely to be the rich, powerful politicians and leaders. Those folks are likely to be “retarded” by virtue of their leadership positions. Rather than looking to the leaders to be receptive, look to the marginalized, those with the most incentive to see things change.

So, in leap-frogging work, expect to spend time among the poor, the needy, the outcasts. Sacrifice any illusions about prestige or “making it,” in terms of conventional definitions of “success.” I speak about the redefining of success in another essay in this collection. Imperiled here will be the ego, if it fancies its status in terms of the company it keeps.

A final pitfall relates to the reactions that can come from the society’s leaders. Leap-frogging can threaten the status quo. Some leaders will interpret leap-frog actions as challenges to their position, authority, or beliefs. So we must expect fear reactions, e.g. demonization from some (who project their own fears and failings on to us); challenges and confrontations; even (in extreme cases) punishment, imprisonment or persecution. To the extent that leap-frogging offers a challenge to some official’s “turf,” we can expect irrational responses to it.

What to do in such cases? Inner work, first and foremost. We must be sure that what we are doing is what The Force intends for us (rather than acting out of ego). Once we are certain that we are acting fully aligned with our Divine purpose, we can relax in the promise we have been given: “… take heart! I have overcome the world.”
Conclusion

The foregoing are just some of the pitfalls that can show up as part of the process of waking up and leap-frogging. Whatever pitfalls present themselves, we can be certain that they will not prevail if we remain centered in The Force. This is why a regular regimen of inner work (meditation, prayer, dream work etc.) is essential, because only this will keep us centered.

The path has pitfalls, but all of them pale when compared to the joys and blessings provided by waking up and leap-frogging. Becoming more conscious and serving others in fulfillment of our divine mission offer so many benefits that the pitfalls seem minor indeed.
Some Questions for Reflection
What is your reaction to the idea that there might be pitfalls on this path? Do some of those discussed here bother you more than others? If so, which seem most troubling?
Can you think of other pitfalls?
Do you feel deterred by the reality that waking up and living out your life mission may bring problems?

For Further Reading
Bonhoeffer, Dietrich (1959), The Cost of Discipleship, rev. ed. trans. R.H. Fuller. New York: Macmillan.
Buckingham, Jamie (1976), Risky Living: Keys to Inner Healing. Plainfield NJ: Logos International.
Edinger, Edward (1984), The Creation of Consciousness: Jung’s Myth for Modern Man. Toronto: Inner City Books.
Elgin, Duane (1981), Voluntary Simplicity: Toward a Way of Life that is Outwardly Simple, Inwardly Rich. New York: William Morrow.
Jung, Carl (1969), “Answer to Job,” Collected Works, 11. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
May, Rollo (1975), The Courage to Create. New York: Bantam Books.
Moelaert, John J. (1974), “The Epidemic in Our Midst,” Earthkeeping: Readings in Human Ecology, ed. C. Juzek and S. Mehrtens. Pacific Grove CA: The Boxwood Press.
The four Gospel accounts in the New Testament also give much food for thought on the issue of spiritual blessing in the midst of pitfalls and problems.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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 plane. With his repeated deference to Divine will, Jesus is a model for us of living in allow mode.

When we set our will consciously to “lose” our life, we give up trying to make happen what we think needs to happen. Thereafter we begin to get guidance, through dreams, through intuitions, through synchronicities (meaningful coincidences) in daily life.

Part of being awake is being attentive to these ways that The Force directs us to our mission, how we are to serve others, and what specifically we are meant to do. This then leads to leap-frogging.

Part of leap-frogging is allowing ourselves to be conduits for The Force. We do this recognizing that we are “God’s love with arms on it.” We function very much as messengers (the original Greek for which, aggelos, has taken on a lot more associations: we think of “angels” as much more than simple “messengers”). But we are meant to be messengers of Divine love and caring to others.

To be such messengers, we cannot operate out of ego, trying to control. We cannot be “attached” to some outcome. We cannot be “invested” in helping others.

To function in allow mode, we must not be afraid of being regarded as different or unconventional. We must not hesitate to try something new, or to question convention. We must not hold back from challenging or questioning traditions, especially those that disempower, harm or limit groups or individuals.

Living and working in allow mode clearly is not easy, or comfortable. It challenges much of what the Second Wave mind-set holds dear. And it will often tax our patience and challenge our faith. But to do otherwise—to try to “make it happen”—sets us on a sure-fire course toward disaster.

Questions for Further Reflection

Can you recall a time when you acted upon an intuition without knowing why, or without having logical reasons to do so? If so, how did you feel? What was the result?
Do you live in an environment that recognizes and supports intuitive ways of thinking and living? If not, how might you make your environment more supportive of intuitive modes of living?

What is your reaction to the idea of “losing your life” for the sake of serving The Force?

Can you recall a time in your life when you acted in “allow mode,” as described in this essay? If so, what did it feel like?
For Further Reading

Hitchcock, John (1991), The Web of the Universe: Jung, the “New Physics” and Human Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.

Lao Tzu, Tao Te Ching (The Way of Life), trans. R.B. Blakney. New York: New American Library.

Smith, Huston (1991), “Taoism,” The World’s Religions. San Francisco: Harper.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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.

Unlike most 21st century Westerners, medieval people did not assume they were only their bodies. The belief in the soul was almost universal. The “art of dying well” prepared the mind for the moment when it would separate from the body, and the soul would be free to return to God. Being Platonists at heart, medieval theologians regarded this as a liberation of the soul.

Medieval thinkers were not the only ones stressing the importance of death and the potential it held out for salvation or liberation. Eastern cultures like those of Buddhist Tibet and Japan also put a premium on conscious preparation for death. The Tibetan Book of the Dead (especially in its modern translations) is quite explicit about the passage of the soul through the various stages of the Bardo, and how careful attention—learning, inner work, study under a master, etc.—can help the soul recognize what is really going on during the death process, and thus make the correct choices that will assure its liberation from the wheel of reincarnation.
Alchemy and the Stages of Death

Just as Buddhism recognizes many stages of death in the Bardo state, so medieval alchemists worked out a series of stages, or forms of death that occur while we are still embodied. Before getting into the particulars here, I should note that alchemy is not some bogus precursor of chemistry, as most Second Wave people think. This became clear to Carl Jung, who discovered in the works of the medieval alchemists a very insightful science of psychic change and development. In this science, death plays a central role.

As students of how the soul evolves, the alchemists recognized that “life” (the process of taking on embodiment) is inevitably subject to corruption (echoing The Buddha’s teaching that “all compounded things decay”). The alchemists recognized that this corruption took various forms and they gave it various names, depending on the way the body/mind suffered.

Rather than lament this process of corruption, the alchemists welcomed it, because they understood that it made growth possible. By the “putrefying” of the old, the new was born. And the product of these stages of decay is a conscious connection to the Self, our Divine core. We die (i.e. experience the decaying of life’s outworn forms) so as to savor true life (knowing the Self). The medieval alchemists were very clear that, without death, there would be no change, no growth, no development during the time of embodiment that we call “life.”

Many generations of alchemists studied the phases and forms of death. In a very simplified presentation of their complex and subtle ideas, I will describe some of these forms below. Understand that this is not some old historical curiosity, but rather a description of what is going on within us now. All of these forms (and others not included here) are going on throughout our lives, showing up in different combinations in different people at different times. Part of becoming awake is getting wise to which ones you are experiencing at the moment.

In no particular order, these forms of death are:
- the mortificatio. Source of our English words “mortification” and “mortify,” this term comes from Latin mors and facio, literally “to make death.” Our sense of “mortify,” with all the embarrassment it implies, suggests the assault to the ego that is involved when we move through the mortificatio stage. The process takes us on a journey through the valley of the shadow of death. It is never something we choose; rather, it is imposed on us by life. Associated with darkness, defeat, torture and mutilation, mortificatio is not a happy time. We feel frustrated, especially in our demands for power and pleasure: We experience impotency, helplessness, and painful agony—all of it designed to achieve the core soul work of this stage: the slaying of egocentricity. Yet, as with all the stages of death, there is a gift here: In this time of black mourning we are brought to self-knowledge. This was the stage Jesus referred to when he said “Blessed are those that mourn.” Mourning in mortificatio brings blessing because it confers the “comfort” of self-awareness and an acceptance of the reality of death.
- the putrefactio. Source of our English words “putrefaction” and “putrid,” this term comes from the Latin putris and facio, literally “to make rotten.” The stinky, disgusting rottenness of decay makes possible the generation of every new form. When we undergo the putrefactio, we are brought (under duress, to be sure) to recognize those aspects of our lives that are worn out, outmoded, no longer serving our welfare. With disgust and resentment, we begin the slow, evolutionary process of dying that leads us to give up the old and move into the new.
- the solutio. Source of our English words “solution” and “dissolve,” this term comes from the Latin solutio, a “loosening.” What gets loosened? The structures of our lives, especially anything that we have been holding on to tightly. Associated with tears, water, and the free flow of feelings, this stage of death brings us to formlessness. For those (few) souls who live rather formless lives, this is not a difficult time. But it tends to be especially difficult for “rigid” types with highly structured lifestyles, fixed routines, and a love of order. The death stage of solutio melts these structures as readily as a sugar cube dissolves in hot coffee. As you might imagine, this melting of life’s structures can cause intense discomfort, anxiety and insecurity, all designed, of course, to develop a deeper, more valid sense of inner peace and safety.
- the calcinatio. The death work here is the burning up of our desire nature. Marked by intense frustration, we experience the death of what we most desire. Our ego will is thwarted at every turn, all for the purpose of encouraging the development of an attitude of openness to Divine direction (i.e. “allow mode”). Calcinatio work is what is meant when the Bible speaks of the “refiner’s fire.” We come through this death phase tempered, toughened and “refined” (i.e. purified). Where the solutio was especially hard for rigid types, this stage is particularly difficult for two types: those with strong desire natures (hot-blooded passionate types used to getting what they want); and those who are Thinking types (in the Myers-Briggs typology), for whom the desire nature is in the shadow or unconscious. The Thinker, as a type, tends to have a very strong, but primitive desire nature, and so finds this stage hard because it forces him or her into the inner depths. As difficult as this is, it holds more potential for becoming conscious than is true for those who began with more awareness of their desire nature.
- the separatio. Source of the English term “separation,” this stage is a time of dismemberment, when we experience an intense dis-integration that is very painful. Life feels chaotic, disordered, depressing. The point of this death stage is to free us from attachments. Krishnamurti, the 20th century Indian sage, recognized the value of this stage when he said that “Each day I die a little.” Separatio can be a daily action, if we are fully awake and intent on fostering the growth of our soul. Most of us are not at Krishnamurti’s level of consciousness; we find it a hard slog. Separatio can be especially difficult for “oral” types who unconsciously seek out dependency relationships. During this stage, such relationships are usually destroyed, and, in the experience of separation, we have to find our own way, live our own life, take up the life tasks and responsibilities that unconsciously we projected on to others (who, in all likelihood, are now no longer available to us). This is a stage of taking back projections and developing self-reliance. It holds the potential to give birth to independence and a greater ability to access and hone our inner strength.

All these stages are forms of death holding the potential for birth. That is the whole point: birth is not possible without death. We cannot grow if aspects of ourselves do not first die. We are always in transition, and one face of this transition is what we call “death.”
Death as Transition

Ancient wisdom regarded death as a transition. The thirteenth card of the Tarot (one version of archetypal wisdom) is called Death, and in some versions of the deck the card is labeled “Transition.” We are constantly in transition because the essence of life is change. We could then also say that we are constantly dying to the old of us, and birthing the new.

“Transition” embodies this process of constant change. It comes from two Latin roots (trans and ire, lit: “to go/be between”) that reflect the fact that we are always in between. Life is not stasis but movement, and in order to navigate these moves properly, we have to be able and willing to give up (relinquish attachment to) the old, move into the between, and then take up the new. The between is where we experience death, just as The Tibetan Book of the Dead describes in great detail.

Think about all the major transitions you have lived: infancy to toddler stage, child to adolescent, teenager to adult, perhaps adult to elder. Eventually we will all experience the transition from incarnate state to dis-incarnate state. We also experience transition daily, as we move from sleep to wakefulness, stupor to alertness, ego to Self, attachment to non-attachment, daydreaming to mental focus. Living and dying are processes of constant transition.
How This Relates to Waking Up and Leap-frogging

Those who are awake know how to die. They regard death as a normal part of the process of living, a transition time. They also know how to die well: They consciously prepare for death, taking up the various forms of death consciously and working with them to realize their potential for growth and greater consciousness.

This might seem very theoretical, so let me give a concrete example from my own life. This is an example of the calcinatio stage. Not coincidentally (since we live in a holographic Universe, in which the Law of Correspondence operates, so that the placement of the planets reflects inner psychic reality quite closely), this stage occurred for me when Pluto came to an exact transit in square to my Venus. Venus is the planet representing our desire nature, especially with regard to love, romance and relationships. Pluto is the planet of deepest drives, regeneration and implacable change. Put these two together, in a square (i.e. difficult) contact, and the stage was set for a most painful time of “frustration of the desire nature.” How this showed up in my life was in the death of my fiancé quite agonizingly (from a stroke that left him a “vegetable,” whom the M.D.s then euthanized). The whole process (being a transit of Pluto, the slowest moving of all the planets) took months, and I experienced not only the death of the man I loved, but the death of my dreams for romantic happiness (for this man, my beloved Hubie, had been the epitome of the man of my dreams). I knew that this was a death stage, and that meant I had lots of work to do, inner work, work with my dreams and imageries. Clearly, I was meant to learn and grow, but initially I had no stomach for it (and, in fact, I spent the better part of every day for a while throwing up—purging my system of what had to leave, I suppose). As time passed (weeks into months), I began to get some clarity about the illusions I had had about myself and my life that had to die. I had to do lots of work taking back what I had projected—on to Hubie, on to my mother, on to other people. What was birthed in this process was a whole new world within that I had not previously recognized in myself. I came to realize that no death is without a subsequent birth (both metaphorically, for me in my life, and literally, for Hubie, in his new life, as he came to me in dreams to tell me about his life on the other side). Death opens the portal for the new. We need death to open us to life.

Much as I would rather not experience such dyings, I know they are an essential part of life. As long as we limp along at our current (low) level of consciousness, we have little choice about such things. Our realm of choice lies in how we respond to what Destiny puts on our plate. I can’t say my experience of the calcinatio was pleasant. Hardly! But I can say now (years later) that it was positive, important, meaningful, and necessary to my development. I can also see that it birthed a compassion and groundedness that I had never known before, and those gifts are very important and precious to me.

Now, back to the topic of relevancy. How do the forms of death relate to leap-frogging? Leap-froggers are change agents. They must know how to change, and all change involves transitions, that is, deaths. Part of what leap-frogging entails is welcoming change, welcoming death. So the “art of dying well” is a good skill for leap-froggers to have.

Some Questions for Reflection

If it were possible for you to know when you were going to die, would you want to know?

It has been said that the most omnipresent fear human beings have is about their own death. What is your greatest fear about death?

Envision the final days of your life. What would you want this time to look like?

Are you familiar with the Tibetan notion that we can consciously prepare for death in ways that help the soul transit through the after-death state? Are you interested in doing this?

Imagine that you could read the obituary written about your life. What would you want it to say?

Have you ever had an experience that convinced you, beyond any shadow of doubt, that life goes on after death? If so, how did this affect your attitude toward death?

For Further Reading
Connolly, Eileen (1990), Tarot: A New Handbook for the Apprentice. North Hollywood CA: Newcastle Pub. Co.
Edinger, Edward (1985), Anatomy of the Psyche. Chicago & LaSalle IL: Open Court Press.
Evans-Wentz, W.Y. (1960), The Tibetan Book of the Dead. New York: Oxford University Press.
Goldberg, Bruce (1997), Peaceful Transition: The Art of Conscious Dying and the Liberation of the Soul. St. Paul: Llewellyn Pubs.
Greene, Liz (1976), Saturn: A New Look at an Old Devil. York Beach ME: Samuel Weiser.
________ (1984), The Astrology of Fate. York Beach ME: Samuel Weiser.
Greene, Liz & Howard Sasportas (1987), The Development of the Personality. York Beach ME: Samuel Weiser.
Hitchcock, John (1991), The Web of the Universe: Jung, the “New Physics” and Human Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.
________ (1988), Dynamics of the Unconscious. York Beach ME: Samuel Weiser.
Jung, Carl (1953), “Psychology and Alchemy,” Collected Works, 12. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1963), “Mysterium Coniunctionis,” Collected Works, 14. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1965), Memories, Dreams, Reflections, ed. Aniela Jaffe. New York: Vintage Books.
Keirsey, David & Marilyn Bates (1984), Please Understand Me: Character and Temperament Types. Del Mar CA: Prometheus Nemesis Books.
Lidell, H.G. & Scott (1978), An Intermediate Greek-English Lexicon. Oxford: The Clarendon Press.
Lowen, Alexander (1975), Bioenergetics. New York: Penguin.
Myers, Isabel Briggs, with Peter Myers (1980), Gifts Differing. Palo Alto CA: Consulting Psychologists Press.
National Gallery of Art et al. (1976), Treasures of Tutankhamun. New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art.
Nichols, Sallie (1980), Jung & Tarot: An Archetypal Journey. York Beach ME: Samuel Weiser.
Pierrakos, John C. (1987), Core Energetics: Developing the Capacity to Love and Heal. Mendocino CA: LifeRhythms.
Smith, Huston (1991), The World’s Religions. San Francisco: Harper.
Sogyal Rinpoche (1993), The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. San Francisco: Harper.
Stevens, Anthony (1983), Archetypes: A Natural History of the Self. New York: Quill.
Thurman, Robert (1994), The Tibetan Book of the Dead: Liberation through Understanding in the Between. New York: Bantam Books.
White, John (1980), A Practical Guide to Death and Dying. Wheaton IL: Quest Books.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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 has not been fulfilled.” Etymologies corroborate Jung: the root of our word “bliss” means “pain.” Think about it: Would you know (be able to identify) “happiness” if you did not know what it meant to be sad? We need both dualities in life.

 Meaningful suffering induces humility, because it brings us in contact with the basic substrate of human reality: our shared feelings. Pain is the great equalizer, and when we can touch into our pain and realize its meaning, we become very much more grounded, less egotistical and aware of our humanness.

 Meaningful suffering can also teach us a lot, if we pay attention. Why pay attention? To discover what the lessons are for us in this suffering that we have drawn to ourselves. Nothing happens by chance, so the relationships that hurt, the events that befall, the “tragedies” that crop up—all hold a lesson or lessons. All the wisdom traditions teach that suffering is a place of spiritual promise and healing, if we would “take up our cross” with conscious intent.

 Suffering that is consciously accepted can be very liberating. It does this by bringing us to the truth. We come to see what is really going on in our lives, and this releases us from the pack of lies we have been telling ourselves for years (and, in some cases, for decades). As Jesus says, “the truth shall set you free.” We find our truth in the midst of our suffering.

 Suffering is also a “psychic mover” and driver of our creativity, behind our efforts to get out of pain. The worse the suffering, the more the totality of our being is marshaled to respond to it, and this sparks the creative impulse that lies inside. It is not accidental that so many of the great artists lived lives full of sturm und drang, i.e. suffering.

 Suffering grappled with makes us aware of grace, that we are graced with support in a myriad of forms. We can come to this discovery only by living it, i.e. enduring suffering with intention and attention.

 Suffering at times can link us to the Divine, or the “supraconscious forces” that transcend the human plane. The 14th century German mystic Meister Eckhart noted this, when he wrote that “… God is always with a man in suffering;…” When this occurs, we are lifted up out of our distress through an experience that leaves us feeling touched by a miracle.

 Taking up suffering consciously can show us our true grit, or the full measure of endurance we have. Jung noted that “Suffering that is not understood is hard to bear, while on the other hand, it is often astounding to see how much a person can endure when he understands the why and wherefore.” Few people who take up their suffering intentionally find themselves overwhelmed by it.

 Taking up our pain and working with it helps us develop what Buddhists call “the bodhichitta,” or compassionate heart. “Compassion” means, literally, “to suffer with” another. We can’t suffer with someone else unless and until we have taken up our own suffering. “Pain links us to other people,” as May Sarton said (and she knew whereof she spoke, having herself experienced suffering).
 Finally, suffering gifts us by leading us to change. Jim Wallis, the founding editor of Sojourners magazine, noted that “… it is the experience of touching the pain of others that is the key to change.” As we accept and integrate more and more of our suffering, we become able to touch the pain of others. Until we have the courage to touch our own pain, we aren’t able to touch others’ pain. As we mature into our own suffering, we become more grounded, more mature, more in touch with what really matters in life. We become aware of the purposiveness of the Universe. Things begin to make more sense. We realize there are no accidents or chance events, not now, not in our prior experience with the people we dealt with, nor in the circumstances we face. And this knowledge builds trust, in both ourselves and in The Force (the power that governs the Universe).

These ten reasons may strike you as little more than words on a page if you haven’t experienced meaningful suffering yourself. This whole business is like riding a bicycle: you can’t really know it without getting “hands on,” i.e. without getting into your own pain.

Some gifts are big, some are small. How big the “gift” in an individual’s suffering depends on personal circumstance. Those who are very neurotic stand to benefit the most, yet are most likely initially to resist anything that suggests getting in touch with pain. By definition, the neurotic is a person who has spent many years stuffing his or her pain. So very neurotic people usually find it hard to get started in the process of consciously touching into and processing their pain, but when they do, will look back later with the most appreciation for the gift it held, because their dis-ease is relieved and life seems so much better. I say this with deep personal experience of this truth (as one who was very, very neurotic and lived through much searing pain and grief).

How This Relates to Waking Up

Accepting the gift of suffering is central to the process of waking up. In fact, so central that we can say, without exaggeration, that it is impossible to wake up without suffering, to one degree or another.

As we suffer through the process of becoming conscious of the unconscious, we become humble, aware of the basic equality of all people. This humility is a key feature of waking up.

Waking up also implies honesty: knowing who we really are, what we really feel, what’s really going on within us. When we begin to wake up, we begin to recognize the lies we have been living, and we are motivated not to do so anymore.

To be in the process of waking up also means becoming more compassionate—able to identify with and willing to support those who could use a hand up. As we can own our own suffering, we can extend compassion to others.

And waking up implies change, including the changes noted above (greater resiliency and energy, spiritual purification etc.). As we allow ourselves consciously to experience suffering, we open ourselves to change—positive change. Over time, life gets better.
How This Relates to Leap Frogging

The most obvious way this whole concept of suffering as a gift relates to leap frogging is in the perception itself: The mere act of regarding suffering as a gift implies the ability to stand apart from the herd and look at reality in an unconventional way. This independence of mind is essential for choosing the leap frog option. Trust me when I say that, if you go around calling suffering a “gift,” many people will think you’re crazy (as I noted at the beginning of this essay). So you must be willing to go your own way and hold to the convictions that are born out of your own personal experience and truth. This is what leap frogging requires.

Leap frogging also requires a compassionate heart. The compassionate heart that develops from meaningful suffering tends to seek new solutions, the unorthodox or novel approaches. It is not limited to the “same old, same old.” It dares. It has courage.

And this is the third form of connection: Courage. Just like taking on suffering consciously, leap frogging requires courage. If you can take up your cross (which is how Jesus described this process of conscious suffering), you are equipped for leap frogging.
Conclusion

Another essay in this collection deals with the theme of not resisting evil. One form of evil is meaningless, or neurotic, suffering. Jesus exhorted his listeners not to “resist” this suffering. He was not advocating masochism, flagellation etc., but rather was urging people not to repress, deny or try to fight against it. As an enlightened being, Jesus understood the gift that lies within suffering. As we awake, we too can experience this gift.

Some Questions for Reflection

Do I live with sufficient emotional liberty that I feel free to share my feelings (especially negative feelings like anger, rage, sadness, grief, fear, weakness) with others I trust?
Did I grow up in a family environment that welcomed emotional expression? Or did my family of origin have patterns of denying or “stuffing” feelings?

As I think back over the contents of this essay, do I feel the title has been explained, or do I think the whole thing is nonsense? If the latter is the case, might this be due to my resistance to the idea of consciously experiencing pain?
Am I prepared to make an attempt to delve into my pain a bit? a lot? Might I need some external support to do so (e.g. a counselor, therapist, or reliable/spiritually mature friend)?

For Further Reading
Brussat, Frederic & Mary Ann (1996), Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life. New York: Scribner.
Cousins, Norman (1979), “Pain is not the Enemy,” Anatomy of an Illness. New York: W.W. Norton.
Edinger, Edward (1985), Anatomy of the Psyche: Alchemical Symbolism in Psychotherapy. Chicago & LaSalle IL: Open Court Press.
Gunn, Robert Jingen (2000), Journeys into Emptiness: Dogen, Merton, Jung and the Quest for Transformation. New York: Paulist Press.
Hitchcock, John (1991), The Web of the Universe: Jung, the “New Physics” and Human Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.
Hollis, James (1996), Swamplands of the Soul: New Life in Dismal Places. Toronto: Inner City Books.
Jung, Carl (1954a), ”The Development of Personality,” Collected Works, 17. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1954b), “The Practice of Psychotherapy,” Collected Works, 16. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1969), “Psychology and Religion: West and East,” Collected Works, 11, 2nd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1960), “The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche,” Collected Works 8. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1976), “The Symbolic Life,” Collected Works, 18. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Kellogg, Mary Alice (2000), “My perky days are over,” McCall’s (December 2000), 20-23.
Lammers, Ann Conrad (1994), In God’s Shadow: The Collaboration of Victor White and C.G. Jung. New York: Paulist Press.
Moacanin, Radmila (1992), ”Tantric Buddhism and Jung: Connections, Similarities, Differences,” Self and Liberation: The Jung-Buddhist Dialogue, eds. Meckel & Moore. New York: Paulist Press.
Three Initiates (1912), The Kybalion: A Study of the Hermetic Philosophy of Ancient Egypt and Greece. Chicago: The Yogi Publication Society.
Tortora, & Grabowski (1993), Principles of Anatomy & Physiology, 7th ed. New York: HarperCollins.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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 rich (seeking more and more money and possessions), Third Wave success focuses on developing personal talents, and aligning will, mind and effort to living out one’s unique mission in life. Jesus spoke of this when he referred to “seeking the kingdom of God.” He reminded us that, if we put this seeking to be obedient to our inner guidance as our first priority, “all things would be added unto us.” That is, if we focus on being aligned with our true purpose, all our needs, like money, will be met. In the Third Wave view, genuine success means living free of fear of lack, free of the “poverty mentality” that so plagues most people in the Second Wave world.

Rather than status or advancement over others, Third Wave success takes the form of service. Again we can turn to Jesus as a guide here. He told his followers that true leaders are servants. If you want to be “first” (tops in status) in the Third Wave world, you must be “first” in serving other people. “Success,” in other words, is not about putting yourself forward, but about putting others and their needs foremost in your thinking and actions, in ways that honor the divinity in both you and others.

Rather than social prominence, the Third Wave form of success stresses the prominence of values. Having a worthwhile set of values, like integrity, courage, honesty, faith, hope, love, harmony, etc., and then living these out in daily life—this is genuine success.

And finally, rather than seeking repute, or the gratification that comes from being seen as an “expert,” the truly successful person seeks to be creative, more than to be right or authoritative. Each of us is a co-creator with The Force. Each of us, therefore, has a responsibility to take up our own form of creativity and live it out. In the fulfillment of this charge lies our chances for inner peace, joy and personal growth, as well as for genuine success.

Mother Teresa reminded us that we are not called to be successful: we are called to be faithful—faithful to our calling; faithful to our values; faithful to our inner voice; faithful to our unique creative “daimon;” faithful to our individual identity. This way lies true success, even though (most likely) it will not be “success” as the Second Wave world defines it.

How Redefining Success Relates to Waking Up and Leap-frogging

Part of what it means to “wake up” is going within, making the acquaintance of our inner characters, motivations, needs, and voice (intuition), and connecting to the Self (Divine core). Part of “waking up” means developing a personal set of values that are appropriate to our unique identity. This requires questioning the false, superficial values of the Second Wave world. Part of “waking up” involves discovering our special purpose or reason for living, our mission in life. Along this path lies our true success. If we are not awake to this, we cannot be truly “successful,” regardless of how much money, power, status, prestige etc. we attain.

Part of “waking up” is moving out of fear and into love; out of anxiety and into trust; out of dis-ease and into wholeness. Success is all about love, trust, and striving toward wholeness.

As for leap-frogging, it requires independence of thought to redefine success for ourselves and live it out. No one can really hope to “leap-frog” who feels constrained to operate within the Second Wave definition of success. This is because it is axiomatic that leap-froggers will face derision or skepticism. There will be lots of nay-sayers assuring them that they will fail; will not make a “go” of it; will not be successful. These people will care nothing for inner guidance. Even describing or talking about intuition, or inner voice, will set leap-froggers up for ridicule in some circles. Nor will most Second Wave people understand how leadership could take the form of servantship. In other words, nearly everything a leap-frogger values, stresses, focuses on, or is motivated by, the Second Wave world will denigrate, dismiss or disparage. This means that the conventional definitions of “success” must be jettisoned. In their place, the definitions described above must be substituted. Doing so guarantees a much more valid and secure form of “success,” one that can never be lost, no matter what events may arise in outer reality.
Some Questions for Reflection
Think back to your youth. How did your family define “success”? Did your family put pressure on you to be “successful”? Were they concerned about your choice of career? marriage partner? circle of friends? Do you think parental concerns about such things were connected to the issue of success?

In terms of your own life, what would “success” look like for you, i.e. at the end of your life, looking back, what would you need to have done, or felt, or achieved, in order to regard your life as a “success”? How much of this is external (i.e. vulnerable to being taken away or lost)?
Based on your reading of this essay, are there elements of your definition of “success” that might need to be rethought or redefined?

For Further Reading
Edinger, Edward (1992), Ego & Archetype. Boston: Shambhala.
Eyre, Linda & Richard (1993), Teaching Your Children Values. New York: Simon & Schuster.
Jung, Carl (1963 ) “Mysterium Coniunctionis,” Collected Works, 14. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
LaFerla, Ruth (2001), “Latest Economic Indicator: A Depression Doll is Hot,” The New York Times (January 7, 2001), ST 1,4.
Ponder, Catherine (1962), The Dynamic Laws of Prosperity. Marina del Rey CA: DeVorss Publications.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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, life events, or our bodies. Our recognizing these various form of teacher depends on our willingness to rethink some of our basic assumptions about reality.
Most people in Second Wave society live in a desacralized world, a place of dead matter filled with chance and accident. Learning occurs within the walls of institutions set up specifically for that purpose (i.e. schools, colleges, universities, etc.). Human beings carefully “trained into orthodoxy” transmit what they were taught to those (usually) younger than they, in set curricula, within certain timeframes. Spiritual literacy has nothing to do with set curricula or timeframes and it is knows nothing of orthodoxies or dogmas.
By this point you might be wondering how you learn it. Each in his or her unique way. No one can predict how another will do it. But there are some general features or components that most people experience. These include:
encounters with paradox. We’re becoming spiritually literate when we find ourselves appreciating the paradoxical nature of reality, e.g. how the most personal things are the most universal; the most intimate experience is the most communal; the most contemplative lifestyle is the most active. The logical, left-brained Second Wave world hates paradox and tries to reason or analyze it away (thereby displaying spiritual illiteracy). Those awake cherish paradox.
the transmutation of suffering into healing and renewal. Another essay in this collection addresses this theme. Suffering can come to be seen as a gift, when we are spiritually literate. It is surely not something we relish at the time, but once its meaning and purpose are clear, suffering can be the gateway to precious regeneration.
creative doubt. Many of the organized religions of the world encourage a “lust for certitude,” regarding doubt as a sign of weak faith. But the spiritually literate know the value of doubt. We live life moment to moment at the interstices of doubt and faith. There would be no faith without doubt. It is impossible to have one without the other. Doubt is “creative” in that it opens us to questioning, and that, in turn, fosters new discoveries and innovative responses to life.
incorporating the shadow. By “shadow” I mean all the stuff of life that lies in a darkness that makes it hard to be seen. The personal shadow consists of all that we don’t own in ourselves, good and bad: lusts, drives, needs, gifts, talents, powers—whatever we find impossible to recognize as being ours. The collective shadow consists of the negativities of life: natural disasters, monstrous demonstrations of human evil (like the Holocaust, ethnic cleansing, etc.). Being spiritually literate implies getting wise to these neglected and despised aspects of reality and taking them into our consciousness (i.e. giving up repression, denial, and judgmentalism).
savoring epiphanies. “Epiphany” is a word English borrowed from the Greek verb epiphaino, “to show forth, or come suddenly into view.” An epiphany is an experience of numinosity, usually sudden in nature, that fills us with awe or wonder. For those awake, life is full of epiphanies. The ego disappears and we are swept up in the transporting moment of an extraordinary experience. Epiphanies have been called “mystical moments,” and they can provide an awareness of the unity of all life that mystics often talk about in their writings. Epiphanies also can provide vivid physiological reactions: When I have them, I often feel intense surges of energy, tingling and the sense that my hair is standing on end. Other times epiphanies can feel “sweet” or breathtakingly “holy,” as if blinders on our eyes were suddenly removed, revealing the world in an intensity of colors, sounds and energies never seen before. From my reading of Maslow, I get the sense that the “peak experiences” his subjects described were, in many cases, what I am calling epiphanies.
I had epiphanies for years before I knew what they were. I recall, for example, washing dishes one evening after a dinner party and suddenly being swept up into a blissful state of intense joy. I stood at the sink holding a pot (a very ordinary, mundane pot, one I used every day) and “seeing” it with new eyes, as a wondrous object of artistry and skill. And I felt incredible gratitude for the gift of friends, food, fellowship, culinary skill, and this pot. That experience was many years ago, back in the mid-1970’s.
Another epiphany came in 1984, when I was sitting in my favorite spot in the whole world, on the shore at the Seawall part of Acadia National Park. I lived just a few miles from this rocky coast, and I would ride my bike there frequently to enjoy the fresh air, beautiful vistas, and the calming sounds of the pounding surf. One sunny day in August I was in my usual spot, feeling very relaxed, not much interested in the book I had brought to read. I began to watch the seagulls, who were always on the scene. But this time my attention was caught. What I had seen for years I suddenly was “seeing” in some new mode. And then suddenly I was one with the gull. I “became” the gull in some magical way and then one with all of life. The “unity” that mystics had written about for millennia was no longer a mental concept but something I experienced.
Sometimes epiphanies can result from the practice of “putting out a fleece.” I have had several epiphanies this way. By “putting out a fleece,” I refer to the experience of Gideon, who sought Divine guidance, got it, but then felt unsure and needed to get confirmation. The Force is very patient and loving and understands our weaknesses, and so always comes through when we seek its guidance and then need to be sure about what we get. In my experience, I get guidance through dreams—what I have come to call my “voice-over” dreams—that tell me explicitly what to do, where to move, what work to take up, books to write, etc. Early on, when living by dreams was still new and strange to me, I felt the need to get confirmation of my “marching orders.” So it was, back in 1987, when I had given up my college teaching position, my home in Maine, and all my friends, to move to California (all based on dreams), I was feeling really scared. I had gotten out to Berkeley, and found an apartment and signed a lease, only to discover that my anticipated employment had disappeared in the market crash in October 1987. There I was: no friends, no car, no work. Had I somehow messed up somewhere along the line, to be in such a fix? I needed confirmation: Was I where I was supposed to be? Was I doing the right thing? I “put out a fleece:” I wrote in my journal a plea for guidance. I asked for some clear, unmistakable sign, and I promised to pay close attention over the next 24 hours, trusting in The Force to provide something that would let me know I was still on track. That was in the morning. I went through the day, working at my desk on my resumé, doing other things but always mindful of my fleece. As was my custom, I took a walk in the afternoon, on the footpath at the Watergate apartment complex where I lived. This site was built out into San Francisco Bay, and it afforded a glorious view of both the Golden Gate Bridge to the west and the Berkeley hills to the East. I walked with heavy feet that afternoon as I set out, wondering how I was going to survive. The natural beauty did not seem able to buoy my spirits as it usually did. I walked out to the point, where the path skirted the water, hard against huge boulders. The spray was flying, for the wind was strong after a storm that had passed an hour or so before. I turned back on the last leg of my trip, and it was then that I saw the sign: a full double rainbow filled the eastern sky against the hills. It was so intense, so big and so amazing that it took my breath away, and even now, years later, as I type these words into the computer, my body is filled with the intense energy I felt at that moment. The fleece! There was my sign, the archetypal symbol of Divine promise. I was on track! I would be OK! And for the rest of my walk, my steps were light as my spirit soared with thankfulness.
Another time, again at a moment of depression and doubt, I put out a fleece, asking for confirmation of my direction, by requesting to see a cardinal at some point during the day. Cardinals—rather large, bright red birds—are my favorite birds. While they are quite prominent in the Eastern United States in winter, spring and summer, they are usually quite elusive in the Fall. And it was October, 1991. My work that day sent me to Baltimore, and I had no idea if cardinals were common there at all. But I had asked to see a cardinal. That would be my sign. I went to my appointment and was walking back to my car when I heard the distinctive cardinal song. My ears perked up. I began to look quite intently. Suddenly, in the tree not three feet from me I saw not one, but three cardinals! They were so close I could have reached out and touched them. But I stood stock still, as if struck by lightning. And I felt like I had been hit by lightning! Every cell in my body felt a surge of energy and I knew everything would be fine. The Force had heard my plea and sent another epiphany.
And so it has been for me. I have never put out a fleece that went unanswered. Every request comes through, and provides the awesome, sacred blessing that lies at the heart of epiphany.
Epiphany, paradox, meaningful suffering, creative doubt, shadow work—these are just some of the ways life supports our becoming spiritually literate. And we will do so naturally, unless we block the process.
Blocks to Spiritual Literacy
Most of the time, if we block the process, we do so unconsciously, because of beliefs we have picked up from Second Wave culture. The left-brain bias of the Western world tends to close down intuition, which is the faculty we all have that mediates epiphanies and other similar non-rational experiences. Likewise, the idea that spiritual literacy is like verbal literacy—something we have to get from “outside,” to learn consciously as a skill—will block the process. In reality, spiritual literacy is not hard. It does not require special training. We all have what it takes. We need only two things: belief (that we can do it) and desire (wanting to do it). The old adage is true: “None are so blind as those who will not see.” If we refuse the experience, we won’t have it. And no one else can do it for us.
Another block lies in having a negative worldview. Those for whom the world does not seem like a friendly place understandably have little interest in embracing it, or paying it much attention. People who regard the physical world as the “realm of the Devil” will not have epiphanies or acquire the skills involved in spiritual literacy. Estranged in a basic way from the world, other people and themselves, people with this attitude will not be open enough to become spiritually literate.
Openness is essential, because we must be able to take in our own experiences. Most of us in the Second Wave world live “elsewhere”—in the past, in the future, in our heads, wherever. We are not here now, present in the NOW moment. Western culture is very effective in keeping us out of the NOW, through its clamor, busy-ness, and host of distractions (e.g. television, radio, computer games, e-mail, etc.), all of them “trivial pursuits” that foster shallowness. “Shallow” living prevents us from getting into our depths, and the result is soul suffering. “Your soul suffers if you live superficially,” Albert Schweitzer cautioned. Caught up in all the inanities of the Second Wave world, most of us do live the superficial life. This makes it difficult or impossible to become spiritually literate.
Why Bother Becoming Spiritually Literate?
Every essay in this collection considers the question of how the topic at hand relates to waking up and leap-frogging. Spiritual literacy—being able to read the meaning in everyday life and events—is important for several reasons. I’ll consider the general connections first, and then those that pertain to waking up and leap-frogging respectively.
We need to be spiritually literate because life is constantly speaking to us, trying to give us insights, help and wisdom. The Force actively supports our quest for meaning. It wants to help us perform our service in the world, but we will be blind to this help if we are spiritually illiterate.
Likewise, The Force is constantly blessing us. These blessings are all around us, everywhere at hand. But if we are not spiritually literate, we won’t be able to recognize them. This recognition is crucial for building our trust in The Force.
Spiritual literacy also helps us see our true place in the scheme of things. We are god-like in our power and yet interconnected and dependent on the web of life. When we can “read the book of life,” we are better able to maintain a balanced sense of who we are and what our responsibilities are to the Earth and our fellow creatures.
We also are more likely to have epiphanies when we are spiritual literate. These provide great benefits, e.g. mental clarity, the expansion of consciousness, glimpses of the bigger picture and the “rightness” of things, the experience of transcendence, which provides new perspectives and helps to put the ego in its place. As I noted above, epiphanies linger. We remember them for years afterwards, and recollection of them can bring up calmness, joy, awe, wonder, delight—all gifts of Spirit. Have a few epiphanies and it is impossible not to believe there is a Divine order and plan underway for the world—a plan that we are very much part of. In this way, spiritual literacy conquers alienation and estrangement, and promotes self-esteem.
It teaches us that the world is sacred, and with this awareness, it becomes very difficult to pollute (either our bodies, or the environment). Spiritual literacy fosters environmental concern. It also makes us aware of the unity of all, and thus promotes peacemaking and peacekeeping. It fosters respect for all—persons, animals, Nature itself. And it opens us to developing the full range of our human potential.
Spiritual Literacy and Waking Up. A major part of waking up is becoming spiritually literate. The term “waking up” is well chosen, because it is like coming out of a trance. G.I. Gurdjieff, the Russian mystic, described Western culture as a “consensus trance” that everyone participates in without realizing it. As we “wake up,” we come to recognize this trance and how it blinds us to the meaning in life.
As we wake up, we see the world with “new” eyes, i.e. on a different perceptual level—one that is much more acute and sensitive to the multiple layers of existence and meaning. We begin to pay attention to aspects of reality that we never noticed before, like our fears, wounds and shadow. We begin to listen with both ears and heart, to hear with a resonance we didn’t know existed. We let go of the illusions which the Second Wave world lives in all the time (e.g. that we are in control and can control events, Nature, and other people). We become able to appreciate paradox and to hold the tension of opposites that make up reality. And as we quest for meaning, we begin to cherish the ultimate mystery embedded in life.
Spiritual Literacy and Leap-Frogging. Being literate in the spiritual sense means acting from the center of our being, and this is a place where it is impossible to go along mindlessly with the crowd. No place for “group think” here! As numerous Biblical verses remind us, The Force is ever taking up the novel, leading us to renewal. When we “read the signs” offered to us by the world, we find ourselves doing new things, moving into uncharted territory—precisely the places where leap-froggers venture.
Spiritual literacy fosters personal change and transformation, because we can’t “read the book of the world” without being altered in profound ways. As change agents, leap-froggers must rely on their ability to read the messages in daily events. By changing themselves, leap-froggers impact the world in ways that change it.
And leap-froggers find that they want to effect changes in the world, to work for a world that works for everyone, because spiritual literacy fosters “fellow feeling,” in a host of forms, from civic concern and social responsibility to animal rights and ecological activism. Spiritual literacy prompts engagement with others, while it hones our awareness of the needs of others.
Much of this comes to us intuitively. Spiritual literacy draws upon and hones our intuition. Using intuition, leap-froggers are guided to be where they are meant to be, guided to do what they are meant to do, guided to fulfill their unique mission in life. By reading the signs in daily living, leap-froggers are protected and assisted in manifold ways, as they show up to be agents for The Force, operating in “allow mode” (not out of ego, but from intuitive guidance).
How to Become Spiritually Literate
There are several steps in the process of developing spiritual literacy. Before reviewing them, let me reiterate the prerequisite that was mentioned above: We must have both the will (desire) and the belief that we can become spiritually literate. We must consciously set the intention to do this, knowing that no one can do it for us. Since this form of literacy is part of our birthright as humans, we all have what it takes.
Now, for the steps: The first you have already taken, if you read through this essay up to this point: You have discovered there is such a thing as “spiritual literacy.” Given the materialism of the Second Wave world, this reality is not obvious to most Westerners. You now know about the narrowness of the conventional definition of “literacy,” and you recognize how much more broadly other cultures and civilizations have treated literacy.
The remaining steps assume you want to become spiritually literate, for they require some effort and conscious attention, on a daily basis. The second step is to slow down. In the face of the insane drivenness of Second Wave life, this step is difficult. But you must give yourself the three essentials for soul work: time, space and patience. Recognize the “hurry sickness” that is pandemic in Western society, and consciously commit to giving it up. Constant self-monitoring will be necessary, for the lure to fall into the old ways, to live at the pace of everyone else, will be very strong. (To see this, just try to drive at or below the speed limit on a highway, and you will immediately recognize the pressure we face to fall in with the crowd).
The third step depends on your having slowed down enough to engage the world with conscious intent. By this I mean that you live at a pace where you can pay attention to details. The old saw puts this as “stopping to smell the roses.” Allow things to catch your eye, and when this happens, allow yourself to linger with the experience. Get out of your head and into your body, into your senses: smell the air, touch things, listen closely, with heart as well as head. This sort of mindful relating to objects, plants, animals and people will present many surprises and delights.
Then quest. Pose questions to life, without the need for immediate, clear answers. Give up the tendency (common in adults) to ask only those questions for which we assume there are answers. Most of the interesting aspects of life lie at the borders of unknowing. Allow yourself to go to these nether regions frequently. Go out of your way to explore, e.g. take a new way home from work; try a new hair style; listen to a new genre of music; work with a new artistic medium. Push your boundaries, however these show up for you (and, if you are serious about this questing business, they will show up). By doing this, you give yourself more “space” (in the psychic sense). Dream, vision, and dare to ask “why not?” when people question your visionary approach. Allow yourself to feel (in the marrow of your bones) the promises and potential that are opening for you and the world. And allow your quest to carry you into the deepest levels of your being.
Then be open to what turns up. Give up the cynicism of the Second Wave world—that attitude of mind that would denigrate anything new or different that challenges the usual ways or patterns. Rather than cynicism, open yourself to joy. Enjoy! Literally: allow yourself to be in joy.
And finally, go with the flow. This will be transformative. You will change. Your life will change. You will make new friends, develop new interests, take up new values, come to new perspectives, and very possibly undertake news jobs or forms of work. You will gain a clearer sense of your life mission, purpose and destiny. Over time, you will look back and realize that almost nothing of your old way of being remains. This will not be without its pain and difficulty (about which I speak more in the essay on “Pitfalls of the Path.”) but you will be supported by The Force, and will be able to recognize this support in myriad types of signs whose meaning you will recognize.
Conclusion
Every moment of every day we are surrounded with signs that speak to us of Divine love, nurturance and support. These signs are messages that we are meant to read, in order to fulfill the special purpose we have for being on the physical plane. Each of us is a precious participant in the great game of Creation, and each of us is meant to play a particular role. How do we know what our role is? By reading the book of life that is all around us. We are receiving our marching orders all the time, but the rife confusion and ignorance of Second Wave thinking has led most of us to become illiterate. The result is a serious diminishment of life. In its extreme, it shows up as feelings of worthlessness, despair and a sense that life is meaningless. Much of the pathology of modern reality—the wars, drug use, greed, aggression and hostility—spring from spiritual illiteracy.
This is particularly unfortunate now, because we are living at a crucial time (just a few years from 2012), when all hands need to be on deck, ready to pitch in and fulfill their role. To do so, we must be awake and literate, in all the senses of that term. To act as responsible people—that is, people able to respond to the call of The Force—we must be spiritually literate, so we can hear the sound of the call. If we can’t read the signs, we won’t even recognize there is something to respond to! And we won’t be able to do our share. Choosing the leap frog option depends on being spiritually literate, and being awake presupposes the ability to read what is going on in the world.
Some Questions for Reflection
How do you think about the things you own? Have you ever personified an object, e.g. by giving it a name? How do you pay respect to the things in your life?
Where is your ideal place, the one place in the physical world that has special meaning or resonance for you, where you feel most at home?
Are you familiar with the Chinese art/science of feng shui, which seeks to foster well-being by aligning our homes, offices, etc. with the forces of nature? If so, have you ever applied it in your life? With what results?
Europeans often name their homes. Have you done so? If not, what would be a good name for your home?
How do you feel connected to Nature? Have you ever hugged a tree or communicated with a cloud? If so, what did you learn?
Have you ever had a dream with an animal in it? What do you think it was trying to tell you? How have animals helped you care for your soul?
If you could incarnate as an animal, which one would you pick? Why?
Do you associate spiritual practices with your daily chores? How do you allow Spirit to inform your daily life?
How do your hobbies enrich your life? Do you attach spiritual meaning to them?
Do you observe a sabbath or set aside a day for rest and renewal on a regular basis? What rituals or practices do you use to deepen your experience of this special time?
Think back on the day just passed. It was a day of creation; what did you give birth to this day? Were you aware of doing so? Does it make you feel different about the day to realize that you were creating many things over those hours?
What impact have creative pursuits—singing, dancing, playing a musical instrument, cooking, sewing, drawing, painting, etc.—had upon your character?
What role has money played in your life? What priority have you given to it?
Think back to a time when someone helped you out just when you needed it. How did you feel?
Hold an interview with your body. What does it tell you about its strengths, weaknesses, wounds, etc.?
If you have ever had a major illness or injury, what do you think the message(s) were in those experiences? Has there been a time when you grew a lot because of an illness?
Do you have friends who have known you for a long time? If so, how might you expect them to react if you were to change a great deal? Would they be surprised? glad for you? uneasy? unhappy?
Projection—unconsciously seeing in others what in fact lies within our own selves—is very common. We all do it. When was the last time you projected feelings of anger, alienation or rejection on to others? What happened as a result?

For Further Reading
Autry, James (1991), Love & Profit. New York: William Morrow.
Berman, Morris (1981), The Reenchantment of the World. Ithaca: Cornell University Press.
Beston, Henry (1976), Northern Farm: A Chronicle of Maine. New York: Ballantine.
Brussat, Frederic and Mary Ann (1996), Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life. New York: Scribner.
Creation Spirituality magazine
Davis, Charles (1973), Temptations of Religion. New York: Harper & Row.
Eiseley, Loren (1969), The Unexpected Universe. New York: Harcourt, Brace & Co.
Estes, Clarissa Pinkola (1995), Women Who Run with the Wolves. New York: Ballantine.
Fox, Matthew (1980), Breakthrough: Meister Eckhart’s Creation Spirituality in New Translation. Garden City: Doubleday.
Kabat-Zinn, Jon (1994), Wherever You Go There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life. New York: Hyperion.
Maslow, Abraham (1971), The Farther Reaches of Human Nature. New York: Penguin.
________ (1964), Religions, Values and Peak-Experiences. New York: Penguin.
Matthieson, Peter (1978), The Snow Leopard. New York: Bantam Books.
McLaughlin, Corinne & Gordon Davidson (1994), Spiritual Politics. New York: Ballantine Books.
Moore, Thomas (1992), Care of the Soul. New York: HarperCollins.
Sarton, May (1980), Recovering, A Journal. New York: W.W. Norton.
Shah, Idries (1964), The Sufis. New York: Doubleday.
Skolimowski, Henryk (1996), “The Methodology of Participation,” Revisioning Science: Essays Toward a New Knowledge Base for Our Culture, ed. S. Mehrtens. Waterbury VT: The Potlatch Press.
Smith, Huston (1991), The World’s Religions. New York: HarperCollins.
Snyder, Gary (1974), Turtle Island. New York: New Directions Publications.
Sogyal Rinpoche (1993), The Tibetan Book of Living and Dying. New York: HarperCollins.
Suzuki, D.T. (1972), What is Zen? New York: Harper & Row.
Tart, Charles (1987), Waking Up: Overcoming the Obstacles to Human Potential. Boston: Shambhala.
Toms, Michael, ed. (1998), Buddhism in the West: Spiritual Wisdom for the 21st Century. Carlsbad CA: Hay House Inc.
van der Post, Laurens (1958), The Lost World of the Kalahari. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich.
Whyte, David (1994), The Heart Aroused. New York: Doubleday.
Wright, Machaelle Small (1995), Dancing in the Shadows of the Moon. Jeffersonton VA: Perelandra.
________ (1988), Flower Essences: Reordering Our Understanding and Approach to Illness and Health. Jeffersonton VA: Perelandra.
________ (1990), MAP: The Co-Creative White Brotherhood Medical Assistance Program. Jeffersonton VA: Perelandra

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


“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 you focus on, you get more of. If you focus on opposing something, you wind up actually getting more of it! Why? because your opposition sends energy to what you don’t want. The resistance you exert is a form of energy, and by focusing on the evil, you actually energize it.

Jesus was not calling on us to succumb passively or weakly to whatever comes along, but rather to focus on the good. Your ideals and values are important. You want to stand up for them. But don’t try to do so by setting yourself against what seems to violate or challenge what you want. Rather, put your focus on, and send your energy to the good, to what you want to see more of. Don’t waste time and energy being against things, but “turn the other cheek,” i.e. turn your attention in another direction, and reframe your thinking and actions so that you support and focus on the positive.

The key principle is this: Being against something will only bring you more of it. So change your thinking. Give up resisting or opposing the evil you don’t want. Focus on the reverse of the evil, i.e. on the positive you do want.

This is the first level interpretation. The second level draws upon psychological truth.
Level II: The Level of Psychological Truth

At this level, Jesus’ words call on us not to resist evil, in the form of repressing what causes suffering, lest we develop neuroses. Carl Jung recognized that neurosis is the result of our attempts (quite unconscious, of course) to avoid suffering. In the phenomenon known as “repression,” we grow up “stuffing” deep inside all the things that cause us pain. The more we do this, the more festering “stuff” we accumulate inside, and the more energy we have to expend in keeping it down in there. The more we resist/repress, the more we suffer. And suffering, as we noted above, is a form of evil.

What to do? Take Jesus’ words to heart: do not resist. Do not repress, but own up to the reality of your life. The Buddha recognized that suffering is endemic to life, because we all tend to repress “stuff” as we go through life. We can’t escape suffering, but repression only makes it worse. Everyone suffers. The only sane thing for us to do is to admit it to ourselves and deal consciously with our “stuff,” however it shows up in our personal history.

“Resist not evil” urges us not to repress our pain. But it does not encourage us to express it (which might, and very well may, cause pain for others). If we are not to repress, or express, what to do? Confess. Not necessarily in the formal sense of the Roman Catholic confessional: there are many forms that “confession” can take, e.g. working with a therapist or analyst; meeting with a member of the clergy; sharing with someone who is trustworthy, able to listen well and keep his/her own counsel. The key is to get the “stuff” out, to let go of the repressive effort.

And this means all of us, for none of us is free on this score. We all tend to repress our pain, to live with the misery that goes back to the experiences of our youth. We all succumb to the temptation to resist that which would cause us pain.

How This Relates to Waking Up and Leap Frogging

Perhaps the connection to waking up is obvious: A big part of the process of coming to consciousness is getting wise to the habit of “stuffing.” Waking up means coming face to face with our “stuff,” which means giving up the tendency to resist/repress what causes pain.

In the same way, when we wake up, our attitude toward disease and illness changes. In the Second Wave world, disease is regarded as “the enemy,” something to be fought with the full armamentarium of allopathic medicine marshaled to battle the invader (be it a bacterium, virus, cancer cell, etc.). People who are awake know better. They realize that any form of pain (transient or terminal, simple or complex) is a valuable message from the body for the benefit of the entire being. Any form of dis-ease is trying to tell us something, and the graver the illness, the more powerful and potentially life-transforming the message is likely to be.

And so our charge is not to do battle, but to listen, to go within, to harken to the “wisdom of the body,” and to open ourselves to the deep levels of transformation that we are being called to undertake. Rather than “resist” the “evil” of sickness, we must respond to the challenges and opportunities it is offering us to reorder our lives to be more in tune with our higher wisdom.

There is another way in which the principle “resist not evil” relates to waking up. A key element of waking up is becoming conscious of what we are manifesting in life. When we wake up, we start to recognize just what we are choosing to energize. For most of us, it comes as something of a surprise to realize that we are actually choosing to energize what comes to us. We tend to go through life on “automatic pilot,” and the realization that everything that appears in our reality we have chosen to bring to ourselves—this usually gives us pause. As we “wake up,” we begin to recognize the various ways we sabotage ourselves, draw to us things/persons/experiences that cause pain or dis-integration, of one form or another. For most of us, we find that it requires conscious effort to watch our thoughts, to change our beliefs and attitudes, and to reframe our actions so as to focus on the positive that we want to enjoy. (And for some of us, particularly those with low self-esteem, conscious effort must go into re-visioning our basic self-image, so that we feel worthy of having good things in our lives).

“Resist not evil” also relates to leap frogging, for leap-frogging seeks to change the world by trying the untried. Leap froggers are change agents. They have to understand change, know how to change and be able to work with the Universal Laws that relate to change, a key one of which is this: “Reality grows where attention goes.”

No effort in life really works well that tries to defy the Universal Laws. So leap froggers have to be “for” things rather than “against” things. All leap-frog activities have to focus on the good we want to see, rather than striving to fight what we don’t want to see. We must energize a positive reality and be driven by positive visions, not negatives. It is, therefore, not enough to know what you don’t want, or what you want to change. You must also know and hold in mind what you do want, the desirable, positive, beneficial reality that frees, releases and empowers you and others.

Here are some concrete examples:

 Fred was a prosperous businessman who was astonished to discover a depth of poverty in his community that he never realized had existed. Hundreds of people each year experienced hunger to the point of severe malnutrition and physical debility, in one of the world’s richest countries. Appalled at this state of affairs, Fred was determined to do everything he could to fight this poverty. He contacted a national organization called “End Poverty Now!” and rallied his business colleagues to form a branch of the organization in their region. They poured money into it, set up food banks and expended tremendous time, energy and personal resources into doing everything they could to fight poverty. Poverty became Fred’s obsession for several years. But, for all their efforts, the group never succeeded in eliminating poverty. Why? The Universal Law suggests that these well-intentioned folks were actually energizing the poverty they wanted to eliminate. Far better would it be to form a group focused on abundance and providing food for all. Putting the conscious focus on the positive—food, nutrition, nourishment, abundance—would energize what they wanted to bring about.

 Roxanne was a victim of domestic violence who managed to get out of a very bad marriage with the determination to help other women in similar circumstances. She heard about a group called SAFE (Stop Abuse and Female Exploitation) and for a while she worked with them. But nothing ever seemed to change. Over time, as Roxanne worked on herself and got wise to her “stuff,” she came to realize that there really are no “victims” in the world. She had drawn to herself just the right man to help her deal with her own issues, and her personal experiences of suffering, while not pleasant, could be viewed as a “gift” that helped her be more empathic and understanding of women in abusive relationships. But SAFE was not the way to go about dealing with this issue. Roxane got out of that organization and set up a very different group, focused on building strong families, providing loving homes for children, and empowering women to develop their full potential. Roxane came to realize the need to energize the positive: domestic harmony, families that work, and caring environments for children.

 Sally sought to end racism and sexism in her culture. She knew this was a huge challenge, given the many centuries of tradition that lay behind the way blacks and women were treated. Sally intuitively knew that the “same old, same old” ways would not work. She needed to try something new. A reperception was a basic necessity. Being against racism and sexism really meant that Sally wanted to foster an environment in which all people are valued and respected as precious and unique human beings. Therefore, the focus of Sally’s organization became equality, respect, diversity, and complementarity—all positives that are the flip side of the negatives associated with racism and sexism.

Conclusion

In Jesus’ sermon, the sentence immediately following “resist not evil” urges “turn the other cheek.” That is, Jesus suggests that we ignore what is not desirable, i.e. turn away. Don’t even look at it, for Jesus knew that the simple act of looking at evil sends it energy. So, when you come upon something that is morally wrong, causing suffering, creating disorder, or fostering disease, leave it be and set about the work of realizing a positive replacement. Energize what you want to manifest in its place. And, if all this seems inconsequential—that the simple act of re-perceiving is somehow too trivial—remember that “Mind is the builder,” so how you think about reality is the very important first step in changing it.

Some Questions for Reflection

As you read this essay, what was your reaction to the idea that we all have “stuff” that we have resisted/repressed? Can you identify some of the contents of your unconscious that have been repressed for years?

Have you ever participated in groups that were actively working against something? If so, can you reframe their goals to focus on the positive?

What values and ideals do you hold dear that might inform your leap-frogging activities? How might these manifest in concrete actions?

For Further Reading
Cousins, Norman (1979), Anatomy of an Illness. New York: W.W. Norton.
Jung, Carl (1954), “The Development of Personality,” Collected Works, 17. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1969), “Psychology and Religion: West and East,” Collected Works, 11, 2nd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Lammers, Ann Conrad (1994), In God’s Shadow: The Collaboration of Victor White and C.G. Jung. New York: Paulist Press.
Pelletier, Kenneth (1979), Holistic Medicine: From Stress to Optimum Health. New York: Delta/Seymour Lawrence.
Ponder, Catherine (1962), The Dynamic Laws of Prosperity. Marina del Rey CA: DeVorss & Co.
Ponder, Catherine (1966), The Dynamic Laws of Healing. Marina del Rey CA: DeVorss & Co.
Thurston, Mark (1996), The Great Teachings of Edgar Cayce. Virginia Beach: A.R.E. Press.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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 of powerlessness and despair. It also breeds fear and anxiety, because of the evaluation and judgment that perfectionism implies.

Another reason why leap froggers and people waking up need to avoid perfectionism is that it blocks play. Although the puritanical elements in the Christian hierarchy will never admit it, we human beings are meant to be playful. This is what Jesus meant when he spoke of the need to become like children. When we have a child-like (not childish!) engagement with the world, we can relax, play, and respond to reality with awe and wonder. We become creative. Perfectionism kills creativity. Those who wish to support the leap frog option must play with The Force as much as, or more than, they pray to The Force. In our playful activities our true prayer emerges.

A third reason why perfectionism is antithetical to leap frogging and waking up is that perfectionism warps our imagination. One of our most important human abilities is imagination. Western culture, of course, denigrates this gift (think how many times you have heard, or been told, “Oh, that’s only your imagination!”). But our ability to make images, to identify with others, to see ourselves in situations different from the physical reality immediately before us, to cast ourselves into the future and create powerful, attractive visions of what might be—this human power is central to our creativity and to making a better world. And this is what leap frogging is all about.

A fourth reason to avoid perfectionism is that it blunts compassion. It does this indirectly, by first inducing sadomasochism, a self-hatred that then turns outward to become callousness toward others. “Compassion” literally means “a suffering with.” Perfectionism fosters the tendency to avoid all forms of suffering, making it impossible for us to engage with or get into our own suffering. Perfectionism likes to live in the spirit world, the world of the head, the realm of cold logic and neat theory. There is nothing theoretical about compassion and suffering (as the Greek word for compassion--splagchnizomai--lit. “to turn one’s bowels over”—attests). In its very nature compassion is not about perfection. It pulls us into our physicality, to be aware of our own imperfection. When we focus on being perfect, we cannot be compassionate.

As part of our human “shadow,” perfectionism also leads to all sorts of ego issues, because it splits off the shadow. Either it fosters egotism (thinking we are better than others) or it turns into the flip side of egotism, i.e. feelings of inferiority and inadequacy. But the reality is that we all are in the cosmic soup together, all of us struggling with our shadow side, all of us basically equal as we try to play the game of life as best we can. Perfectionism hinders our recognizing our basic equality.

Leap frogging and waking up are all about becoming aware of the beliefs, assumptions, and societal systems that have kept us down, encouraged negative self-images, and fostered feelings of powerlessness. As we wake up, we adopt new ways of thinking, with new standards and new understandings. Prime among these is the understanding of who we are and where we are bound, as human beings on the journey we call “life.”

As human beings, each of us is blessed with many gifts. We are also:
• unique in our set of gifts and talents (no one else has the exact combination we have)
• unique in our purpose and mission in life
• precious in the special role and function we are here to perform
• guided in the lessons we are here to learn
• equipped with the full range of abilities and resources to achieve the goals we took upon ourselves before we incarnated
• and meant to realize our being in all its fullness
“There is a part of every living thing that wants to become itself.” This is what teleios means: not that we should seek to be perfect, but that we should strive to attain shalom, or fulfillment, to reach the goal or completion of the unique life journey we chose to undertake. We consciously allow ourselves “to be less in order to be more—less nearly perfect, but more nearly whole.”

Perfectionism also blocks change. As paradoxical as it may seem, we transform our weaknesses only when we fully and joyfully accept them in ourselves. The more we live in denial or try to escape from imperfection, the more we stay stuck with it.

Waking up has many components. Some of these are part of the process of fulfilling our being. For example, when we wake up, we discover our gifts. This includes coming to understand and appreciate how what may seem like liabilities or handicaps may actually be of great benefit. When we wake up, we come to recognize our uniqueness—how we are different from anyone else on earth, and that this is not only OK, but wonderful (and this recognition frees us from any tendency to envy or copy others, or to look to others to validate our actions or identity). When we wake up, we identify our mission in life, why we were born in the time, place and circumstance we chose, what this life is about for us, and how we are meant to serve others. When we wake up, we appreciate how precious each person is in the microcosm (daily life) and macrocosm (the wider scheme of global reality). When we wake up, we start getting wise to what the lessons are that we are meant to learn, and then we set to work with conscious intention on learning them. When we wake up, we develop our abilities and become aware of the many forms that our “resources” can take (which are much more varied than just “money”). As we widen our sense of “resources,” we come to appreciate just how loving and supportive The Force is.

The addiction to perfection sidetracks these activities. It works to keep us asleep. And therefore it is something we must consciously recognize and work to avoid.

Some Questions for Reflection

Am I addicted to perfection? In my work, do I find myself constantly “raising the bar” or standard I demand of myself or others?

Am I able to be easy on myself, to relax and play, to let go and allow the world to be, just as it is, without feelings of discontent, or attitudes of judgment?

Have I gotten down into my own “stuff” sufficiently to know the meaning of suffering? Am I able to identify with others who suffer?

Do I find that I play “one-up-manship” in my interactions with others, comparing myself to other people, or am I able to relate to others as peers?

Do I envy others or have feelings of jealousy for what others have or are?

Did my childhood encourage me to perfectionism: Did I grow up with criticism and evaluation? Was there strong sibling rivalry that left me feeling compared to others? What is my sense of self-image?

As I allow myself space, time and patience to hear my intuitive voice of wisdom, how am I guided to respond to the ideas of this essay?

For Further Reading

Anderson, Sherry & Patricia Hopkins (1991), The Feminine Face of God: The Unfolding of the Sacred in Women. New York: Bantam.

Edinger, Edward (1985), Anatomy of the Psyche. Chicago & LaSalle IL: Open Court Press.

Fox, Matthew (1983), Original Blessing. Santa Fe: Bear & Co.
Hammer, Paul (1976), The Gift of Shalom. Philadelphia: United Church Press.

Jung, C.G. (1959), “Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self,” Collected Works, 9ii. Princeton: Princeton University Press.

Lammers, Ann Conrad (1994), In God’s Shadow: The Collaboration of Victor White and C.G. Jung. New York: Paulist Press.

Moore, Thomas (1992), Care of the Soul. New York: HarperCollins.

Woodman, Marion (1982), The Addiction to Perfection. Toronto: Inner City Books.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


“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 transforming the daimon from an “uncontrolled force of nature into a power that is yours to command,” as Jung put it. Part of becoming “awake” is getting wise to what is going on inside. When we start to look within, we discover our “inner city,” that host of energies that lives within us. Some of them, like the daimon, are autonomous, possessed of an energy that transcends our conscious drives, needs and desires, beyond what our ego can control or direct. With time, conscious effort and attention, we can get to know the daimon, come to feel more kindly disposed towards it, and thus draw upon its benefits.
The daimon will provoke inner conflicts. These foster a dialogue between the ego (who would like to think that it is running our show) and the unconscious. This ongoing inner conversation (assuming it goes on long enough) will help us become more self-aware and conscious of our unconscious “stuff.”
Part of “waking up” is becoming more whole. The daimon plays a central role in fostering wholeness, because it carries the compensatory function noted above. In challenging the totality of our being, the daimon requires a response from all the parts of ourselves, and this helps us discover what these parts are. The compensatory nature of the daimon also introduces us to the principle of the “enantiodromia,” which Jung took over from the ancient Greek philosopher Heraclitus. “Enantiodromia” means a “running to the opposites.” It is the psychological equivalent of Newton’s law of motion: For every orientation in consciousness, there is an equal, but opposite orientation in unconsciousness. As we become more familiar with this principle, we come to appreciate the wide diversity in the human race (because we are aware of just how many competing, vastly different energies we have within us). This helps to enlarge both our sense of ourselves and of reality. We come to appreciate that nothing in life is purely good or purely bad, but reality (and people) contain both.
One of the most important roles the daimon plays in “waking up” lies in its function as a goad to the work of taking back projections. As long as we are asleep, we tend to project the daimon out on to others. The negative form we hang on our enemies or people (and groups) we don’t like. The positive form we stick on authority figures, like parents, priests, teachers, etc. As long as we do this, we demonize others, fail to see our own inner demons, and live like children, giving away our power to others. Becoming psychologically mature, autonomous adults requires taking back these projections, internalizing the daimon, and coming to live in conscious relation to it.
A sixth way the daimon is central to “waking up” is in its gift of forcing us to impose suffering on ourselves. “Some gift!,” you say. Yes. It is a gift, because the process of conscious suffering helps us to build our capacity for compassion. The Buddhists call this the bodhichitta, the “enlightened mind” or “compassionate heart.” Wrestling with the daimon is an ego-crucifying experience, but one that builds our compassionate heart. We suffer, and in this process, we are gifted with the capacity to relate to others with caring and a level of love that is born only out of personal experience of loss and grief. As our inner wisdom or voice of guidance, the daimon will be a valuable guide as we stay on the journey that is the “wake up” process. Eventually, we all come to live more willingly or intentionally in its “grip,” appreciating the truth that we are not in control here. There is a higher, wiser force in charge, directing our lives.
A final way in which the daimon relates to the “wake up” process is in its ineluctability. The daimon cannot be denied. Thus it forces us to become more self-confident (because we can’t turn to others for approval or sanction: we have to obey our inner voice). Over time, as we get to know the daimon’s beneficence and reliability, we come to “authorize our own lives.” This self-authorization is crucial to choosing the leap frog option, as we shall see next.
The Daimon and Leap Frogging
There are four ways the daimon encourages the leap frog option. The first was noted earlier: It pulls us out of conventions and social norms. Because it is archetypal, the daimon exists outside of time and cultural contexts. It doesn’t follow fads or fashions, or feel any need to measure up to social niceties and expectations. When we heed the daimonic voice, we “do our own thing,” and over time this builds an independence of mind and spirit that is essential for anyone who would choose the leap frog option.
Leap froggers refuse to accept “conventional” wisdom, the traditional ways, the argument that says, “But, we’ve always done it this way!” Leap froggers come at reality with vision, a belief or intuitive sense that things could be better, that there must be a better way. These visions, beliefs and intuitions come from the daimon.
Leap froggers also have courage. They have the gumption to stand against the crowd, to march to their own drummers. This courage can develop from long-term wrestling with the daimon.
Another way the daimon fosters leap frogging is via its role as creative spark or goad. When a person is “in the grip of the daimon,” he or she is in close touch with the source of creativity. While the experience cannot be described as completely pleasant, it is exciting, illuminating, full of surprises and very gratifying, if one is open to the novel, the different, the unusual. The daimon will not bring us the “same old, same old.” Be prepared for surprises! Artists, the creative folks in advertising agencies, inventors, and others whose work depends on inspiration all rely on the daimon for their success. Leap froggers, too, need the daimon, because the essence of leap frogging is trying what has been untried.
A third way that leap frogging relies on the daimon is for its guidance about vocation. Those who undertake the leap frog option do so not just to fill some perceived need, or to make an improvement in society. They do it to fulfill their calling. Second Wave society doesn’t do much to support the notion of personal calling or destiny, that each of us has a special, unique role to play on this earth. All of us come into the physical plane with a responsibility to be “God’s love with arms on it,” manifesting in a form or way that will be different for every individual. Genuine happiness lies in discovering and then living out this destiny. How do we discover what our destiny is? By working with our daimon, submitting to it and obeying its guidance. As we do so, many of us are led into leap frog activities—ways of thinking, living and working that challenge the old ways and break new ground.
And newness is the final way the daimon relates to leap frogging. The wisdom literature is full of references to the process of divine renovation:
“… new things I declare;
before they spring into being
I announce them to you.”
“See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?”
“From now on I will tell you of new things,
of hidden things unknown to you.”
“The Lord will create a new thing on earth--…”
“Behold, I am making everything new!”
How does The Force declare new things, do new things, tell of new things, create new things? Through the daimon active in each of us.
The Divine lives and loves through us. As we become aware of the daimon, develop a conscious relation to it, and are willing to live in its “grip,” we become more effective and powerful agents of the divine intention on earth. The leap frog option is part of the process of divine novelty. As we are willing to live and work “in the grip of the daimon,” we foster the leap frog option.
Some Questions for Reflection
Do I recognize, value and give support to my creative impulses?
How do I define “creativity”? Do I recognize the myriad ways in which I am creative, or do I succumb to the Second Wave tendency to define creativity too narrowly (e.g. as the “high” or “fine” arts)?
Do I have a conscious relationship with my daimon? If not, is this something that I would like to develop, or does it all seem a bit scary? a lot scary??
How do I feel about what I have read in this essay? Does the idea of an inner voice that would guide my life seem bizarre, or a confirmation of what I have already experienced?

For Further Reading
Fox, Matthew (1988), The Coming of the Cosmic Christ. San Francisco: Harper & Row.
Fischer-Schreiber, Ingrid et al. (1991), The Shambhala Dictionary of Buddhism and Zen., trans. Michael Kohn. Boston: Shambhala.
Carl Jung has written extensively on the concept of the daimon. Among his Collected Works (CW), see the following:
Jung (1970), “Civilization in Transition,” CW 10
Jung (1954), “The Development of Personality,” CW 17
Jung (1953), “Psychology and Alchemy,” CW 12
Jung (1969), “Psychology and Religion: West and East,” CW 11
Jung (1956), “Symbols of Transformation,” CW 5
Jung (1966), “Two Essays on the Psychology of the Unconscious,” CW 7.
The English translation of Jung has been published by Princeton University Press.
Jung’s autobiography, Memories, Dreams and Reflections, is also a good source for insights into how Jung himself lived out what he wrote about the daimon. See especially pages 336-356, in the Viking (1965) paperback edition.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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 support our inner work.
Space
The second essential that Edgar Cayce regarded as a requirement for coming to consciousness is space. Like time, space has many dictionary meanings: area, expanse, distance between points. These meanings tend to come with qualifiers, e.g. unlimited, as in outer space, limited, as in a parking space, or reserved, as on a train or plane, but what they all have in common is the basic sense of extension, which goes back to the root of the Latin word, spatium, that is the basis of the concept. The Indo-European root spa- denotes a stretching or drawing. So space represents something drawn out or extended.
With its tendency toward concreteness, English usually treats space as a thing—something that can be measured, divided, touched, etc. But remember the basic root, and the figurative sense it implies. Edgar Cayce, when he thought of space as an essential for the process of waking up, used it more in its psychological sense, similar to the Tibetan concept of space as “that which makes movement possible.”
In this sense, space is what we need to feel comfortable. It is more than just the “elbow room” that has been studied by psychologists and cultural anthropologists in different societies, which reveal that Americans, for example, feel the need for a lot more space around them than do the Japanese. Below these various cultural differences, there is a basic sense of space that we all need as human beings.
We can see this in the very oldest roots of our language. The Indo-European angh means “to constrict,” and it is the basis for German’s angst and English’s “anxiety,” “anger” and “angina.” When we lack adequate room in our heads, it shows up in psychological ways, in anxiety, tension, psychic distress, and a host of physiological reactions, e.g. rise in blood pressure, heightened levels of cortisols etc.
When Cayce urged people to give themselves space, he was aware of our need for more inward spaciousness. We need to live with a self-concept and philosophy of life that allows us room to grow, to change, to develop, expand and be well grounded. For most people, providing inward spaciousness will require conscious effort: We have grown up in families and environments that forced us to give up parts of ourselves, to live up to societal expectations that betrayed our true being, e.g. the artist forced to become an engineer because doing art was not “manly;” the woman forced to give up a love of athletics, because football was not what a woman “should” try to do. In extreme cases, people are forced to live in their heads, losing their groundedness in their bodies and physical space. More and more, people around the world are now questioning the strictures that box us into narrow roles and activities. As we take this questioning deeper, to begin to change our behaviors and lifestyles, we are opening up our lives and giving ourselves the space we need to be grounded and become more fully who we really are.
This is not an instantaneous process although some of the insights it involves happen in a flash. It will require time, and thus is closely related to the other two of Cayce’s key essentials. Only as we slow down, relax, and consciously commit time to inner work and reflection will we be able to expand the space in our lives.
This process can be fostered by the arts—by the creative endeavors that open us to laughter, tears, fun and wonderment at who and how and why we are. These “arts” are not the “high arts” of the Western canon, for which people have to train for years and years--although high art can perform this function too--but any creative activity that so absorbs our being that we get into “the flow,” that amazing realm that exists outside of time. Any good art creates space in our lives.
The issue of space seems particularly relevant to the wake up process these days, because increasing numbers of people now choose to live behind high walls, razor wire, locked gates and other forms of security designed to keep people out. This prompts the question what impact all the walls might have on our sense of space, and our ability to provide more spaciousness in our lives, both physically and mentally. With so much of the physical terrain highly defended, would our psyches then also be highly defended against external energies?
Patience
Inner work requires more than time and space. We also need patience, the willingness to put up with waiting. And more than just waiting: waiting with effort and suffering, without loss of self-control. Patience was stressed over and over in the thousands of Edgar Cayce readings, which make clear that, for most of us, the learning of patience is one of the major themes or purposes for our being on the physical plane.
Cayce put a premium on patience, because, of the three essentials, patience is the most difficult, and the least enjoyable. In its eytmology, “patience” reveals the suffering that is inextricably a part of the process: the Latin patior means “to suffer.” We are “patient” only in the context of some discomfort or unpleasantness. It’s something we’d like to avoid.
Yet only the endurance and consistency that are part of patience make possible the growth in consciousness that is the essence of waking up. Only when we are patient can we come to understand the meaning of the events in our lives. Patience will bring us back to the NOW moment, allowing us to act out of our power rather than our weakness. Patience fosters our paying attention to what is really going on around us. Patience supports hope, giving us a sense that the future is open and potentials can be realized. Patience supports our self-awareness, because it is only insofar as we can endure suffering that we can come to know ourselves as we really are, rather than the ego delusions that lead us to think we know ourselves. Patience is also the virtue that brings our higher guidance (i.e. our intuitions) to fruition. Joined with time, patience fosters the development of trust, and trust is a core component of waking up.
When we are patient we are willing to live and wait with some measure of discomfort, holding the tension between our desire to grow and our desire for comfort. This is not easy, and our modern Second Wave world gives very little support for such work. It lives at a breakneck pace that does violence to both body and soul. Our world misuses and misconceives time, fails to recognize the nature and value of space, and dismisses or denigrates patience. Living under tight deadlines, in lives full of anxiety and narrowed horizons, driven by the “hurry sickness,” Western people have great difficulty in waking up. Edgar Cayce offered the image of a three-legged stool for getting out of the sickness that is contemporary Western life: time, space and patience.
Waking Up in the Context of Time, Space and Patience
If you are interested in using Cayce’s insights to foster waking up, reflect on questions like these in your meditations:
What are my priorities in life? Do I live these out in the work I do, in my interactions with my friends and family, in my personal devotions?
How do I use time? On what things am I spending my time each day? How do these things reflect my values or do these things reflect my values? Am I living out what I believe in?
Are the things I am living out daily serving my spirit? my growth?
Do I give myself sufficient space, or is my life filled with stressors or unquestioned assumptions I inherited from my past (family, teachers, etc.)?
Do I live behind high walls or other forms of exclusionary devices? If so, is it because I’m afraid of what’s out there? How might this fear be impacting my inner life, perhaps closing me off from valuable energies that might enrich my life?
How might I create more spaciousness in my life?
Do I find it hard to wait, to be patient, in daily life, e.g. on lines, in traffic, in dealings with other people?
Am I willing to change, to alter my responses to life events, so as to give myself more time, space and patience?
After you have reflected on these issues, if you come to any insights, take them to the next step: Integrate them within you, and then pay attention to what happens. As they manifest in outer reality, your life will begin to change.
You might also want to try creating and living by a “time budget.” This is set up like a financial budget, with categories like the following: time to work, time to play (mental and physical recreation), time to grow (doing activities that foster your mental and physical abilities), time to eat, time to rest (e.g. sleep—most adults in the Western world are chronically sleep-deprived), time for social activities, and time for spirit-nurturing activities (e.g. meditation, prayer, devotional practice etc.). Such a budget is especially helpful for those who find it hard to live in a balanced way, because it assures that no aspect of life is overlooked or ignored (that is, if you commit to living within the budget you set up). If this is something you want to try, discuss it with family and friends, for their support will be crucial as you live within the budget.

For Further Reading
Brussat, Frederic & Mary Ann (1996), Spiritual Literacy: Reading the Sacred in Everyday Life. New York: Scribner.
Dossey, Larry (1982), Space, Time and Medicine. Boston: Shambhala.
Friedman, Norman (1994), Bridging Science and Spirit: Common Elements in David Bohm’s Physics, The Perennial Philosophy and Seth. St. Louis: Living Lake Books.
Gunn, Robert Jingen (2000), Journeys into Emptiness: Dogen, Merton, Jung and the Quest for Transformation. New York: Paulist Press.
Hollis, James (1994), Under Saturn’s Shadow: The Wounding and Healing of Men. Toronto: Inner City Books.
Katz, Nathan (1991), “Dakini and Anima—On Tantric Deities and Jungian Archetypes,” Self and Liberation: The Jung-Buddhism Dialogue, eds, Meckel and Moore. New York: Paulist Press.
Roberts, Jane (1974), The Nature of Personal Reality. New York: Bantam Books.
Streng, Frederick (1992), “Mechanisms of Self-Deception and True Awareness,” Self and Liberation: The Jung-Buddhism Dialogue, eds. Meckel and Moore. New York: Paulist Press.
Thurston, Mark (1996), The Great Teachings of Edgar Cayce. Virginia Beach: A.R.E. Press.

My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging.


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 denial and the other defense mechanisms to avoid psychic pain or anxiety. These mechanisms are the psychic version of an endorphin: an analgesic that helps us tune out reality and lessen the awareness of pain. Thanks to denial and its related devices, we protect our self-image, avoid humiliation, and, most of all, avoid change, with the sacrifices, threats and challenges change implies.
Most people associate things like denial and the other defense mechanisms with neurotics and “sick” people, but they are used all the time, by all of us. Consider the vignettes above: Scientists’ respond to psi phenomena, or to anything that they cannot explain within the limited paradigm of scientism with denial. Rationalists will respond with denial when presented with the data from astrology (which they dismiss as “bogus,” having made no attempt at all to understand this valuable symbol system found in every culture and used for thousands of years). Alcoholics and their circle of friends and family usually live in denial for years, and a major part of the 12-step programs is designed to get people out of denial. And there is R.D. Laing’s “Game of the Happy Family,” which illustrates how rich in denial are the lives of those in dysfunctional families. Lest you congratulate yourself that you are not a scientist, a rationalist, an alcoholic, a friend of one, or a member of a dysfunctional family, consider this: Jung believed that all Westerners use denial, because of the fear of the unconscious that is pervasive in Western culture. So, unless you are from some remote backwater part of the planet, cut off from the influence of modern science, you probably share the mind-set that fosters denial in some form.
Forms of Denial
Which brings us to the next topic: how denial shows up in life. The examples at the beginning of this essay illustrate how it can look. The abused woman who denies anything is wrong shows the face of denial called “disavowal,” often found in recurring interpersonal problems, or “stormy” relationships, where the denier experiences frustration in dealings with others, or the inability to form stable, satisfying unions. Co-dependency is another element here: getting into relationships that are abusive, and staying, despite the maltreatment that is obvious to others.
The second example, of the child being told that going to camp is for his own good, illustrates the denial at the core of the defense mechanism of “rationalization.” Here the mother is denying her own true motives by covering them with a cloak of reasonableness. This is a “slick” form of denial, especially common with intellectuals who are quick-witted and skillful with words. Certain phrases are characteristic in this version of denial, e.g. “It’s for your own good.” “This hurts me more than it hurts you.” Occasionally, the denial at the root of rationalization is glaringly obvious, e.g. the military’s claim “We had to destroy the village to save it.” Hello??
The teenage boy recalling his accident with no visible emotion reflects the flattening of affect, or emotional numbness that often signals denial. Sometimes feelings are there, but at a reduced level of intensity, and sometimes the emotions appropriate to a situation are completely absent. The person has closed down emotionally.
The pious churchgoer with the smug attitude, seeing sin everywhere outside, is projecting her own problems out, denying her own parlous spiritual condition in such a way that she will never be able to deal with it (because she can’t recognize it for what it is). Warping of accurate perception, like this, is a common form of denial.
The fifth example also illustrates how denial can hamper perception. The M.D., who prided himself on his scientific rigor and cool rationalism, was completely unable to take in any experience that did not fit into his limited belief system. Result: he missed something spectacular.
The conference organizer illustrates how synchronicity works to support our unconscious intentions. It meant a lot to the organizer to have the celebrity speaker. When the news came that the person would not be there, the fax sheet “just happened” to get lost. Then the organizer “just happened” to forget the message the fax conveyed. Memory failure, or selective amnesia—the inability to recall events or details of unpleasant things--is a very common element of denial.
The sexually-abused child manifests denial in the defense mechanism known as “reaction formation.” In this version of denial, information enters the unconscious without passing into conscious awareness; then it undergoes reversal and comes out into awareness as the opposite. The child, who was being hurt and violated by her father, had legitimate grounds to say she hated him, but the hatred got repressed and came out as the longing to be loved and protected by Daddy. Others in the family circle (especially the adult who did the laundry) also were in denial, refusing to take in the messages in the weekly wash. Their attention was dimmed. This poor ability to pay attention or to see what is really going on is a classic sign of denial.
The woman who repeatedly took up with losers illustrates the compulsive quality denial can have, as well as denial in the form of rationalization. Of course there are good men out there. She is trying to avoid facing the fact that the problems are not with the men, but within her. She is using denial to evade facing the reality that she needs to do lots of work on herself.
Harriet, into the “Martha syndrome,” illustrates the self-abuse and poor self-image that is often found with denial. Workaholism, substance abuse, co-dependent relationships, an inability to have one’s needs met, compulsions that drive people to busy-ness, to perform and achieve, as if they felt they had to “earn the right to be”—all these are ways denial can appear.
The child’s drawings for the marriage counselor are versions of the “Freudian slip” that so often will reveal denial if we are prepared to spot it. The girl was denying anything was wrong, but the counselor got at the truth through her unconscious.
The story of James Esdaile illustrates how denial can intensify when shared in a group, leading to what social psychologists call “group think.” Dean Ornish’s dismissal of the experiences of 60,000 people also illustrates how denial operates to keep otherwise intelligent people from seeing reality, because of a limited range of mental flexibility. Most of the controversy today around psi, parapsychology, and “frontier science” are forms of denial, deriving from the errors of our current paradigm of science, with its materialism, positivism, reductionism, and a protocol for research that is far too rigid.
There are other ways that denial can appear, not illustrated in the examples. These include:
• avoiding associations that relate to a painful event or memory. Obvious connections get short-circuited or shut down, so as to block the pain that would come.
• daze: the loss of alertness, or defocused attention
• blocking through fantasy: reality or its implications are avoided by fanciful thoughts of what could be or might have been; when this goes on long enough, the denier can come to live in a dream world.
• isolation: the feelings around an unpleasant event are repressed and attention is fixed on just the facts, producing a bland version of experience.
• strong reactions of rejection about something. The Russian spiritual teacher and mystic G.I. Gurdjieff felt that this was one of the most reliable ways to catch oneself in denial.
• psychosomatic disorders: These can include hypertension, stress, muscle and joint pains, headaches, low energy (because so much psychic energy is being expended to maintain the lies).
• arrested development, especially with defensive independence and detachment from others
• coldness: emotional constipation, leaving others with the feeling that the “real” person is not “there,” or not reachable in some way.
• disturbing dreams or nightmares, and sleep disturbances (insomnia, broken sleep)
• low-level chronic depression
• control problems: lust for control, insistence on personal autonomy, difficulty with bosses and authority figures
• repeated avoidance of a simple thing/task/act without any obvious reason (because the task or thing calls up unconscious associations that are disturbing, and so are avoided).
As I noted earlier, denial’s face is indeed found everywhere. None of us is free of it.
Why Getting Wise to Denial Matters
OK, you say. So I’m into denial, like everybody else. So what if I think it’s a river in Egypt. What’s the big deal? The deal is that denial has consequences—mental, emotional, behavioral, interpersonal and other effects. Let’s examine some of these.
Mentally, when we are in denial, we don’t process information very well. We fail to notice important things. Our range of thinking becomes truncated. Our perceptions get restricted. We operate with blind spots, not seeing stuff that is obvious to others, or we see only on the surface, missing valuable data present at a deeper level. We can miss the context of information that gives it meaning. Denial filters the flow of what we take in mentally, so that we can’t process material quickly, or fully. Our memory is hampered, and we are not able to play the game of life, mentally, with a “full deck.” The group think that was at the root of the Bay of Pigs fiasco illustrates how otherwise intelligent people, putting their heads together over a serious issue, can get way off track because of denial.
In the realm of feelings, denial can be as hampering as it is in the realm of the mind. We might be unable to get in touch with our feelings. I know this one well: When I first began my analysis, my analyst would ask me what I was feeling at times, and the question would seem so strange, for I had no sense that I was feeling anything at all! I was truly numb, completely closed down to the realm of affect! I had spent over 30 years denying my emotional life, which had a major impact on my relationships with others, as you might imagine (more on the interpersonal implications of denial below).
In the realm of behavior, denial shows up most obviously in disavowal, statements that challenge the truth of what is clear to everyone else. Denial can also lead to a lack of spontaneity in life, as well as to behaviors that are generally ineffective responses to life events, because the fear driving the denial casts a pallor of calculation and caution over every aspect of life.
So dealing with other people becomes fraught with problems. This can show up in a general lack of empathy with others, due to the inability to get in touch with our own feelings. The related defense mechanisms that build on denial, like projection, isolation, rationalization and reaction formation, push people away, or give them the vague sense that “something’s going on there but I can’t quite figure it out.” So they mistrust, and in this way, serve to feed even more the vicious circle that is the life in denial. When we live in denial we have trouble trusting others, and so mistrust is exactly what we bring into our lives. Replaying the old tapes from childhood unconsciously, we expect hostility or disappointment or trouble from other people, and so we erect the defense mechanisms like unconscious shields, which lead other people to get uncomfortable, to mistrust, and so then to withdraw, or back off, and thus we see just what we expected to see. We feel just the rejection we expected to feel—without any sense that we brought all this on, by our unconscious denial. Scapegoating of others (i.e. using others to contain a denied aspect of oneself) is another way denial can appear in interpersonal relationships. Defensive independence, detachment from others, and projection were mentioned above, as other interpersonal relational forms that denial can take. A final problem associated with denial in dealings with people is the inability to sustain situations of vulnerability or tenderness, because of the assumed dangers associated with such emotional states.
Denial has implications for the development of character and personality. Wilhelm Reich, while he was still a follower of Freud, felt that denial was a prime force leading to the development of “character armor,” i.e. how we block off and shield ourselves from others (while also locking ourselves into rigidities). When habits of denial linger from early childhood, we are likely to grow up with a poor self-image, a deep sense of worthlessness, a tentative and transient sense of self-affirmation. In cases of harsh childhood experience, normal development gets arrested, in the phenomenon of neurosis.
What’s all this mean, in simple terms? Denial does not give us happiness. It is self-defeating, leading to frustration, partial living, a closing down of whole aspects of reality, poor physical health, and a rigidly circumscribed spiritual life. Denial, in short, is not something we want to encourage, and indeed, part of the task of humanity now, as we prepare for the coming shift of consciousness, is to get wise to this most insidious of unconscious devices.
Wising Up to Denial
How to do this? Some signs were mentioned above: strong, almost impulsive or automatic reactions to something can be a sign (but it will require quite a bit of self-discipline and attention to recognize these when they appear, because they are so habitual).
Any intense aversion or rejection of a thought or experience can be another clue, as are those Freudian slips of the tongue. But, as with strong impulsive reactions, we must be prepared to see these for what they are, rather than laugh them off, or block them from awareness.
Physical condition can offer clues: lack of energy, little interest in life, a life that is just going through the motions can signal the need to begin to examine unconscious “stuff.” Or, the opposite may be the case: a personal history of constant busy-ness, workaholism, never stopping, “Type A” behavior and the hypertension that goes along with it. Such compulsive driving can be a sign that denial is lurking in the depths.
Life itself can hold up signs, in the phenomenon of “synchronicity.” Watch for “coincidences,” like losing disturbing messages, forgetting important facts that we really don’t want to handle, or overlooking someone in our work environment that deep down we really don’t want to deal with . Such “trivial” things can be anything but trivial in helping to point out denial.
The best, most effective ways to spot denial and its kin are through long-term, supervised dreamwork and depth psychological analysis. Dreams connect us with the psychic realm, that level of being that is in touch with the unconscious. If we take a positive attitude toward it, the unconscious will respond in kind. Our dreams will show us when we are denying, and why. Likewise, a good analyst will help us be honest too. But both these ways come at a price: pain. Honesty hurts. It is not easy, or pleasant, to wise up to how we live in denial. We have to want to become aware.
This is not something for the weak. It requires conscious intent and a firm setting of the will, as well as lots of moral courage. Because we will be shown all the garbage we have “stuffed” over the years, all the things we don’t like about ourselves, and all the other ways we are fundamentally dishonest and cowardly, it takes guts to do it. Why, you might ask, would anyone want to?
For self-awareness. To live authentically, honestly, without all the lies. As long as we live in denial (in any one of its myriad forms) we are living a lie.
Another reason is to heal, to become whole. This may seem paradoxical, but it is the case that, when we summon the courage to face and deal with the pain that denial and the other defense mechanisms have masked, rather than get more pain, we see the pain in life become manageable. We discover that it’s not as bad as we feared! We come to realize our strength, that we can deal with pain, and grow through it, and come to appreciate it as a valuable part of life (because it is the way life gets our attention, so we can take up the personal work we are meant to do).
A third reason to get wise to denial is to gain true happiness, which is a spiritual condition, not a material situation tied to having toys or wealth or power or reputation. As long as we live lies, we suffer, and there is no happiness in suffering.
And finally, we work on becoming conscious of the unconscious so we can respond to the Divine call that lives within us all the time, appealing to us to “deny ourselves.”
Deny ourselves? This is the positive version of denial I mentioned in the beginning of this essay, the form of denial that implies the refusal to gratify the ego. In this type of denial, the ego consciousness is disavowed. Jesus called this “taking up one’s cross.” It is a crucifixion, in that it is very painful, humiliating for the ego, and entails sacrifice.
Such a denial is not possible unless and until the unconscious, defensive, cowardly forms of denial are recognized, confronted and worked on. This work can be done in a number of ways—Buddhist meditation practice, Jungian analysis, some forms of yoga, artistic work, if done reflectively—but all of them require a journey into the inner depths, a confrontation with denial in all its forms, and a sacrifice of the old self-image and beliefs that we used denial to protect. In the taking, this journey opens life to the “possibility of developing a wisdom beyond tragedy,” and of enjoying “a peace and poise beyond conflict.”
Denial is not a river in Egypt. And getting wise to it is an important part of “waking up” and leap-frogging.

For Further Reading
Coco, Donna (1999), “A Woman on the Edge,” Natural Health (July/August 1999), 86-89, 142.
Colman, Arthur (1995), Up from Scapegoating: Awakening Consciousness in Groups. Wilmette IL: Chiron Publications.
Comer, Ronald (1995), Abnormal Psychology. New York: W.H. Freeman.
Cousins, Norman (1979), Anatomy of an Illness as Perceived by the Patient. New York: W.W. Norton.
Friedman, M. & R.H. Rosenman (1974), Type A Behavior and Your Heart. New York: Alfred A. Knopf.
Goleman, Daniel (1985),Vital Lies, Simple Truths: The Psychology of Self-Deception. New York: Simon & Schuster.
Johnson, Stephen (1985), Characterological Transformation: The Hard Work Miracle. New York: W.W. Norton.
Jung, Carl (1954), “The Practice of Psychotherapy,” Collected Works, 16. New York: Pantheon Books.
_______ (1966), “The Relations between the Ego and the Unconscious,” Collected Works, 7, 2nd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1969), “Psychology and Religion: West and East,” Collected Works, 11, 2nd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Krippner, Stanley (1996), “Parapsychological Research in Retrospect,” Revisioning Science: Essays Toward a New Knowledge Base for Our Culture, ed. S. Mehrtens. Waterbury VT: The Potlatch Press.
May, Gerald (1982), Will & Spirit: A Contemplative Psychology. San Francisco: Harper & Row.
Rokeach, Milton (1960), The Open and Closed Mind: Investigations into the Nature of Belief Systems and Personality Systems. New York: Basic Books.
Rudhyar, Dane (1973), An Astrological Mandala: The Cycle of Transformation and Its 360 Symbols. New York: Vintage Books.
Tart, Charles (1987), Waking Up: Overcoming the Obstacles to Human Potential. Boston: Shambhala.

----- My definitions and usage of various terms in the following essay (e.g. “waking up,” “leap-frogging,” “The Force”) are found in the initial essays in this blog collection. See the entries posted as Front Matter and Introduction, Waking Up and Leap-Frogging. -----




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 inwardly of the old saw that “denial is not a river in Egypt”). Then he quickly left. I knew I would never see him again. He was one example of what I mean by a “helper”—a person who has to do for others out of some unconscious impulse that serves his own need more than being “clean” assistance for another person.
The Key Difference between “Help” and “Support”
The single most important distinction between “helpers” and “supporters” is the attitude they have about people. “Supporters” believe in the equality of all people, regardless of where they live, what they have, what they know, or who they are. “Helpers” operate from an unconscious impulse or from the sense that they are superior because of their background (Western, “civilized”), their wealth, their education, their “connections” with those in power, etc. “Supporters” recognize that we are all equal, regardless of the outer-life circumstances that might seem to make people different from each other.
Because of the global dominance Western civilization has had for centuries, there is a deeply ingrained tendency that white, Westernized people have to think of their ways, their systems, their ideals etc. as superior. So, for nearly all white, Westernized people who aspire to assist or aid non-Western peoples, a basic metanoia, or transformation of mind, is necessary, in order to believe sincerely in the fundamental equality of all people. For most of us, this metanoia is not something that comes easily: It entails suffering. It is usually a part of the process of “waking up” and becoming conscious of our “stuff.” The more “awake” we are, the more readily do we recognize the equality of all human beings.
Thanks to this belief in basic equality, “supporters” are able to be compassionate. That is, they are able to identify with the person in need, and to share his/her suffering, because they have taken up the task of facing and working through their own suffering, and they recognize that “the suffering of injustice unites us all.” With this empathic compassion, they can recognize that what is needed is not a hand out, but a hand up—not “help” but “support.”
The Definition of Support
When we “support” another, we consciously refrain from doing it for them, because we see them as equal to whatever challenge they face. We respect persons in need as individuals with:
• innate resourcefulness
• a unique cluster of talents and interests
• personal motivations and aspirations
• a set of opportunities (which mask as “problems”) they have chosen to take on so as to foster their growth and learning
• an inner timetable that must be respected, as part of respecting their individuality
• the same amount of power as any other human being.
Those we hope to aid, in other words, have just as much need for independence, control and a sense of their personal power as we have.
“Supporters” also understand the close tie between empowerment and challenge. Most of us need to be challenged before we move into our power. This is the psychological equivalent of the “strength training” of the athlete on the physical level. We get strong in will and mind and faith only by working our mental, emotional and spiritual “muscles” via the challenges we choose to take up. We grow and develop our courage, daring, gumption, stamina, tenacity and commitment by facing and dealing with the opportunities (especially the difficult ones we see as “problems”) that come our way in life.
For all of us, there are times when we need encouragement, and this encouragement is what I mean by “support.” It may take the form of words, as in the role of cheerleaders on the sidelines of a big game, or as advice or guidance from one more experienced or knowledgeable. It can also be emotional (i.e. empathy), material (e.g. seed money), mental (an idea, suggestion or insight), a combination of all of these (e.g. as in a training course or some social service program), or something more intangible (e.g. serving as a role model or mentor for another). Whatever the form, this encouragement is rooted in the belief that we’re all together in this endeavor we call “life,” and we all have what it takes to make a go of it.
“Support” empowers others. It operates from an attitude of equality, unity and love. Because of this attitude, it respects those to whom it offers support. And its net effect is to realize personal potential and to foster the fulfillment of individual promise.
Distinguishing Supporting from Helping
There are several questions you can pose to yourself to get clear within about whether your intentions and actions are “helping” or “supporting.” These questions center around honoring the divinity of the other person, and honoring your own divinity. For the former, ask yourself if your actions will serve to give the other person more independence. Will what you do assist the other person to recognize his/her own talents, capabilities and power? Would your action provide only temporary improvement, put you in a position of authority over the other person, or promote dependency in any way? If you can answer the first two questions with a “yes” and the last with a “no,” your intended action is supportive rather than “helpful” (as I am defining “helping”).
With regard to the latter concern—honoring your own divinity—ask yourself if your actions will serve to benefit all concerned, for the highest good of all. Will your activity support your own life mission and serve your own divine purpose? If not--if what you propose will in some way sacrifice your own welfare, or pose blocks to your own growth and development—it is not “support,” but another form of ego trip designed to keep you in your own “stuff” (as the earlier example of the man who came to me illustrates).
Notice, in this dual concern for honoring the divinity of self and other, the distinction between selflessness and selfishness. Selfishness comes out of ego, and can show up as either neglect of others, or neglect of one’s own true purpose. It is not only just thinking about oneself. Western culture is very confused about this. True selflessness operates from your divine core (what the Jungians call the “Self”) and manifests as spirit-based motives, thoughts and actions. Giving to others without regard for your own needs and individuality is a form of abuse and selfishness. Selflessness will not betray the divinity in either you or another person.
Waking Up in the Context of Supporting
If you are interested in fostering your “wake up” process in the context of supporting, reflect on questions like the following in your meditations:
Can I recall times or instances when I sought to help others? Did I try to give them a hand up, or a hand out?
Do I often try to help others? Is it a prominent feature of my life? Is there something about it that has a driven quality, like it’s something I have to do?
What is my own life like: does it work? Do I have lots of areas of life that are full of problems (e.g. marriage, connections to family and friends, trouble with children, difficulties with my job)? Are these problems trying to tell me something about myself?
Is there any pattern to my interactions with others? Do I feel (unconsciously) that I have to earn the right to exist, by constantly helping others in one way or another? Am I equally comfortable receiving support from others as I am in giving it?
Do I attract to me people that have lots of problems in their lives? Do I have people in my life that I trust enough to share problems and needs with them?
Do I equate being supported by others with weakness? When I give assistance to others, do I feel superior in some way?
How might I take the insights from these questions to a deeper level?

For Further Reading
Fox, Matthew (1988), The Coming of the Cosmic Christ. New York: Harper & Row.
Gaskin, Stephen (1987), “International Aid,” People and Planet, ed. Tom Woodhouse. Bideford UK: Green Books.
Harman, Willis & Maya Porter eds. (1997), The New Business of Business: Sharing Responsibility for a Positive Global Future. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler.
Kohr, Leopold (1987), “Over Development,” People and Planet, ed. Tom Woodhouse. Bideford UK: Green Books.
Kothari, Rajni (1987), “Grassroots Development,” People and Planet, ed. Tom Woodhouse. Bideford UK: Green Books.
Max-Neef, Manfred (1987), “Barefoot Economics,” People and Planet, ed. Tom Woodhouse. Bideford UK: Green Books.
McArthur, Bruce (1993), Your Life: Why It Is the Way It Is and What You Can Do About It. Virginia Beach: A.R.E. Press.
McLaughlin, Corinne & Gordon Davidson (1994), Spiritual Politics: Changing the World From the Inside Out. New York: Ballantine Books.
Sandholt, Leif (1987), “Western Affluence and Third World Poverty,” People and Planet, ed. Tom Woodhouse. Bideford UK: Green Books.
Schumacher, E.F. (1973), Small Is Beautiful: Economics as if People Mattered. New York: Harper & Row.
Sunray, Paula (1999), Life Skills for the New Millennium. Jackson TN: Petals of Life.
Welter, Paul (1978), How to Help a Friend. Wheaton IL: Tyndale House Publishers.

Leap-Frogging

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 Western wisdom literature better than Eastern).

The original text is from the Bible’s Old Testament, the book of Judges, chapters 6 through 8, which tells the story of Gideon. The time of the story is c. 1100 B.C.E. The place, southern Canaan, in what is now part of Israel and the Palestinian territories. The leap-frogger is a man named Gideon, but, as the archetypal version indicates, the person could be anyman/anywoman who faces a momentous challenge motivated by Divine guidance.
In the following table, the original text is reproduced (in the New International translation) in the left column, and the archetypal level is provided in the right. Read both columns. Then go back and re-read the right (archetypal) column, relating it to some problem you are aware of in your life, your community or your country.









In general terms, Gideon’s story is a paradigm for leap-frog endeavors. Specifically, any leap-frog activity is born out of a manifest problem on the physical plane. It is recognized as an opportunity by the leap-frogger, although others will call it a “problem.”
The leap-frog action is initiated by The Force, not by the individual person. This can show up in many ways, e.g. in guidance in a dream; in a moment’s epiphany sparked by some event one day; or by a gradual process that calls a person’s attention to some injustice or “problem.”
The leap-frogger, that is the person likely to respond to the call of The Force, is humble, reverent, and more often than not drawn from the marginalized. That is, there is some way in which the leap-frogger is not part of the privileged class or group. Often the person feels quite inadequate to the task he or she is given. Inner dialogs with the Self then take place (in dreams, in sleep, in meditations, in prayer), which gradually build an awareness of personal power.
There is a time interval involved. It usually takes some time for the person to become aware of just what is going on. This process of coming to consciousness can be a few days, a few weeks, a few months, even, at times, a few years. The Force is very patient. It waits.
Once the leap-frogger gets the call, he or she often experiences resistance, out of fear of being seen as different, or from reluctance to challenge the status quo. This resistance leads to testing of the message. Faith is weak. Doubts are many. The leap-frogger needs reinforcement of the call. The Force provides them.
Sacrifices are required. These can take many different forms: experiences of letting go, clearing out of the old outmoded “stuff” in one’s closets (both inner and outer), relinquishing of cherished ideas or beliefs. The point of this sacrifice is both to honor The Force, to confirm the validity of the message, and to open space for the new to come into one’s life.
The leap-frogger may endure death in its various stages and forms. These painful times are balanced by the epiphanies, which remind us of the power working for us. The Force provides comfort, promises and predictions that help us to carry on. One of the most common of these promises is “shalom,” that we will know the deep peace of heart, mind and soul that comes from achieving wholeness.
Dreams and synchronicities are important features of the leap-frog process. Leap-froggers regularly study their dreams, and watch attentively for the meaningful coincidences that will appear when they need guidance or bolstering of their faith.
Growth into the work is incremental. Obedience to the inner voice is hesitant at first. The leap-frogger is full of doubts about this whole business, wondering if he/she can really trust the unconscious. Fears are common, particularly around taking on the collective, challenging customs and accepted ways.
Eventually, a crisis develops. Things come to a head. The leap-frogger is forced to take a stand, to be revealed to the community as “odd man out.” He/she feels inadequate to the challenge. The Divine makes its presence felt, and the leap-frogger knows he/she can go on.
This phenomenon of getting cold feet is so common it is an inextricable part of the archetypal process. At such times, leap-froggers can “put out a fleece,” and do it again, if necessary. In a dialog with The Force, the test and its parameters are set. Then the leap-frogger watches, eagerly expecting a response.
If there is excess, it is likely to be stripped away. The Force wants leap-froggers to rely on it, rather than on lots of money or manpower. This stripping can take many forms, but the point of it is to give ego arrogance or a sense of self-sufficiency a hit. A leap-frogging activity is not done by us, but by The Force. The ego will interpret this as a “defeat,” and will suffer as a result.
The fearful will fall away, and this is OK. Leap-froggers expect this and allow for it. Few are chosen for this work, and differentiation is required. Leap-froggers have to recognize when The Force is pruning away those who are not meant to be part of the process.
Fear will never leave completely, but leap-froggers can expect to have their fears alleviated, i.e. lightened, so they are not oppressed or paralyzed by them. The Force will encourage the leap-frogger to face his/her fears directly and move into them, with its support.
Leap-froggers have to remember who really is due the accolades in any victory: It is not them, but The Force. They remind their followers of this.
Leap-froggers are co-creators with The Force. They put their talents, resources, etc. at the disposal of The Force and show up when and where they are told to be. They don’t stand around idly waiting for The Force to do it all, either: They use their minds and reasoning ability, and the full range of talents to develop plans, work out strategies and implement tactics.
Conclusion
The time of the global mind change (22 December 2012) grows nigh. Its approach is bringing to a head many of the chronic “problems” inherent in the Second Wave world. That means that we are presented with many opportunities to grow and change and evolve a new world system. In doing so, we face a choice: We can accept the challenge and undertake the process of transformation consciously. Or we can refuse (we have free will, and The Force respects this). No one is ever forced into “waking up” or leap-frogging.
But there are consequences to this choice. Those who refuse to change will stay stuck at a level of consciousness that will leave them vulnerable as the general level of consciousness rises. Eventually, the stuck will find it impossible to remain on the physical plane because the collective energy level will be too high: their physical systems will not be able to handle the higher energies.
Those who accept the challenge of change face another choice: to go it alone or to turn to and accept the support of The Force. Take the first option, and you will experience all the turmoil, upset, anxiety and alienation the ego is subject to. Take the second, and you will realize the truth of Jesus’ words, that being joined up (yoked) to The Force is easy, and its “burden” (the work it asks of us) is light.
Leap-frogging takes this latter choice, accepting the “yoke” of a power higher than human ability. This power will produce novelty, new things, new ways, new approaches, the unexpected, surprises. It cares little for the “tried,” for standards or conventions. It works to release, liberate, open and expand. It seeks justice and mercy, in a world that works for everyone. It is exciting and unpredictable and it calls us to co-creative effort. It is timeless, having always been present, but never more necessary than now, as we work to help prepare the world for the coming shift in consciousness.
Leap-froggers are never drafted. Theirs is a volunteer “army.” The choice to join must be conscious and personal. By the fact that you are reading these words, you are now aware that you have a choice about this. Use the essays that follow to help you decide a course of action, in answering these most momentous of questions:
Am I willing to change, to “wake up”?
Will I go it alone, or accept the support of The Force?

For Further Reading
Hammer, Paul (1976), The Gift of Shalom. Philadelphia: United Church Press.
Hitchcock, John (1991), The Web of the Universe: Jung, the “New Physics” and Human Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.
Jung, Carl (1960), “The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche,” Collected Works, 8. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Riesman, David, Nathan Glazer & Reuel Denney (1955), The Lonely Crowd: A Study of the Changing American Character. Garden City: Doubleday.

In this essay I define what I mean by “waking up,” so that the many references made to it in later essays will be more clearly understood. I begin by considering a variety of definitions of what “waking up” is and is not. Then I examine some of the components of “waking up,” as well as some of its features and conclude with some miscellaneous comments.
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 not so much an activity one does as a way of life one lives. I remember so vividly when I began (as a result of a dream life that wouldn’t let me be). Initially, I figured that I would get the whole thing sorted out in two years. Two years came and went, and by that point, I could see it would be five years at least. When five years had come, I was beginning to suspect that the end would not come any time soon, if ever. And by the time I hit the ten-year mark, I knew that this was an endeavor of multiple lifetimes.
Finally, as Gurdjieff’s definitions mentioned above suggest, “waking up” is not some simple, single state. “Awakeness” has many levels to it. The ultimate level is complete enlightenment. Those who reach this level don’t need to incarnate again. Some, the bodhisattvas, choose to remain on the physical plane out of their infinite compassion and desire to help those of us still sweating the small stuff. It is rare to encounter a bodhisattva. We are more likely to encounter and deal with people who are at lower (much lower) levels.
Components of “Waking Up”
Each of us undertakes the journey to enlightenment in a way uniquely suited to his or her gifts, talents, life mission and purposes. But there are some common elements or components. For the sake of simplicity, I am classifying them in five categories: the physical, mental or cognitive, emotional, psychological, and spiritual.
For some people, especially those into hatha yoga, the physical component takes the form of the “kundalini rising,” with the opening of the chakras mentioned above. For others, “waking up” impacts the body, but in less dramatic fashion. As we give up repression, we come to have more energy (because less psychic energy is going into repressing our “stuff”). Life also tends to be less stressful, so our endocrine, lymphatic and nervous systems function more optimally, making us less likely to get sick. We generally enjoy a higher level of physical well-being, because we respect our bodies and regard them as “temples of Spirit,” and we live consciously listening to the body’s wisdom. We also change our attitude toward dis-ease, recognizing that pain holds important messages for us, and illness is a telling metaphor for inner work we need to do.
The mental component includes using both left and right hemispheres of the brain: We consciously develop and use our intuition and imagination, to the point of being able to dialog with the Self (our Divine core). We experience a “metanoia” (Greek for “transformation of mind”), with new ways of thinking, new understandings, new standards. We begin consciously to watch our thoughts, reactions and attitudes, as we come to appreciate the truth in Edgar Cayce’s key phrase “Mind is the builder.” With heightened mind power, we come to understand the deeper meaning in life events. We get wise to the lessons we are here on earth to learn, and we begin to apply our mental powers to doing so. We develop an appreciation for paradox, and an eagerness to understand the Universal laws, in both how they work and how to apply them. We have more mental clarity as we work on “mindfulness” through disciplines like meditation. And we become much more creative, as we take up our role as conscious co-creators with The Force.
In emotional terms, “waking up” appears as feeling safe in a friendly Universe. Even while we suffer (as we get into our “stuff”), we experience levels of peace and joy we did not know when we were asleep. We get wise to repression—how we have been stuffing our pain, grief, and rage inside—and give it up in favor of confessing what we feel. We use suffering to regenerate, and to become more compassionate to those in need. And as we work on ourselves at deep levels, we develop higher levels of self-esteem and come to love self, Self and others.
A major aspect of “waking up” is psychological, no matter how the process is approached. Jungian depth work, Buddhist meditation practice, and Indian hatha yoga will all take the practitioner to the same point of confronting his/her inner demons, shadow elements, neuroses, wounds, fears, and archetypes. “Waking up” means, in large measure, getting wise to what is going on inside us. We each have an “inner city,” peopled by a host of characters and energies, some of whom sabotage us constantly until we take them in hand and deal consciously with them. By working with our dreams, we can become fluent in the language of our personal unconscious, as well as cognizant of the archetypes activated at the moment.
All the foregoing—the physical, mental, emotional and psychological—components meld into the final element: the spiritual. “Waking up” is primarily a spiritual process that connects us to our cosmic roots, and allows us to overcome the alienation and estrangement endemic in Second Wave reality. Seeing the world as living spirit, we are able to recognize all the blessings that surround us, as we “read the book of the world.” We experience transcendence—higher perspectives that provide us with insights into the meaning and purpose of the travails of life. We come to know just how loving and supportive The Force is, and we open ourselves to receiving its gifts and guidance. As we become more conscious, more awake, we operate more and more from our Divine core, rather than from ego. Those who make the conscious choice to join the “spiritual army” become agents of The Force, working to create a world that works for everyone.
Some Features of “Waking Up”
There are many features, but, for the sake of space, I consider only three: perception, values and the role of the feeling function.
Perception. As Charles Tart’s definition indicated, “awake” people perceive differently from those who are still asleep. Some describe this difference as “seeing the world with new eyes,” i.e. at a higher level of perception. More specifically, the person who is awake can:
focus his or her awareness as desired. That is, awake people can pay attention, to a degree impossible for those asleep.
focus his or her awareness as needed. Perception is much more flexible and adaptable to the exigencies of particular situations for those who are awake.
perceive without distortion from neuroses, complexes or other psychic wounds. Most people go through life “seeing through the glass darkly.” Those awake can see life “face to face.”
recognize which state of consciousness he or she is in. People who are asleep are clueless about states of consciousness, and give little or no thought to the reality of state-specific knowledge. Their waking life is not much more acute, in terms of perceptual keenness, than their daily hours of sleep.
change his or her state of consciousness, as the situation warrants. People who are awake know which state is optimal at the moment, and can shift between states at will.
modify his or her current state of conscious knowledge with information or knowledge from an altered state. Higher consciousness, with its psychic awareness and information, can be brought to bear to deal with events in ordinary reality. People awake can access modes of knowing that are unavailable to those asleep.
recognize the difference between basic human nature and our acquired nature. People asleep rarely are able to distinguish between what Edgar Cayce called the “personality” (acquired nature, influenced by family expectations and life experience) and the “individuality” (basic identity unique to themselves) . A big part of “waking up” is coming to discover who we really are, before all the familial and early-life stuff took hold.
recognize the benefits in what seem to others to be liabilities. Awake people know that there are no accidents, and nothing happens by chance. There are always causes or reasons for experiences in life. The Force has its purposes, and once we know this, we can re-perceive negatives as positives, and problems as opportunities or goads to growth.
become aware of the full range of his or her resources. When awake people think of “resources” they don’t just think of money, or material things. They know that Spirit is primary, and so the most essential and valuable resources are intangible: love, commitment, drive, determination, faith, hope, creativity, insight, etc. Awake people are quite literally “resourceful,” i.e. full of a myriad of resources.
get guidance all the time, from many sources. Because they can “read the book of the world,” awake people are quick to spot the synchronicities in daily life that are offering them guidance and direction. Using their intuition, they can see the meaning in these signs.
recognize the bigger picture in reality. Awake people realize that we live on many levels, and Second Wave society is clueless about the most important of these levels. People who are waking up see what is really going on now, in these early years of the new millennium, and where the world is heading. Thanks to this more transcendent view, awake people let go of the illusions of the Second Wave world.
recognize his or her mission in life and how to live it out. Awake people know that each person alive has a purpose for being, some unique way he or she is meant to serve and live. Those waking up discover their mission, and figure out how to live it out.
The person who is awake lives with vision, as a visionary, allowing vision to pull him or her into the future via the Laws of Manifestation. Awake people understand these and the other laws of the Universe (some of which are included in Appendix I), and they use them in practical ways in daily life.
Awake people have an enlarged sense of self and reality. This is not inflated (“waking up” implies humility), but reflects the realization that Second Wave reality is very truncated and inadequate. Moving into a larger, more spacious psychic “space” is an inextricable part of the wake-up process, as I note in the essay “Time, Space and Patience” in this collection.
Awake people are pioneers. They see the new and they undertake it. They are comfortable living at the borders of unknowing, as independent thinkers prepared to challenge the “group think” around them. They follow their inner guidance, even when this will clash with the norms of society.
Values. The values of those awake differ markedly from the values of Second Wave. Mainstream society puts a premium on power, wealth, status, influence, control, work, performance, productivity, growth (in the material sense). People who are waking up, by contrast, come to question these assumed “goods,” and take up new values, like integrity, doubt (the ability to question and be unsure), and openness. They let go in trust, without the need to be or feel in control, because they realize human beings are not in control. The Force is in control, and thanks to their on-going dialogue with The Force, they are comfortable in letting go.
Awake people live in the Now moment, rather than in the past (full of guilt and recriminations) or in the future (full of plans and anxieties about what might happen). They slow down, consciously opting out of the “rat race,” and avoiding the “hurry sickness” that is pandemic in the Second Wave world.
People waking up are patient. They not only are able to endure waiting, they value it, knowing that “good things come to those who wait.” And one of these “good things” is change. The Second Wave world does not like change (being built on a knowledge base rooted in stasis). But those who are waking up realize that change is the norm in all living systems, and they appreciate it. They are able to give up the old and take up the new with grace and courage. They live consciously in transition, in the “between” times that hold such promise for the soul.
Allowing themselves time and space, being patient and waiting on The Force, people awake are playful, creative and very productive, but in an unforced, natural way. The “yoke” they take up is easy and their “burden” is light, because they live out their vocation, and so their work is a form of play.
Finally, awake people are authentic. They live out their values. The computer term WYSIWYG comes to mind to describe these folks: what you see is what you get. Because they are conscious of their depths, and work in their deepest levels, their surface reflects their genuineness. No posturing, artificiality or persona stuff here! Which brings us to the last feature: how the awake person relates to self and others.
The Role of the Feeling Function. Relationships, for awake people, begin with a solid, positive relationship to self. Awake people have given up the “victim” stance—the “blame game” that accuses others and puts responsibility elsewhere. Awake people take responsibility for their lives, realizing that, on some level, they chose everything that happens to them.
Having worked consciously to discover and deal with neuroses and wounds, awake people esteem themselves and respect their inner divinity. This translates into an appreciation of their personal boundaries. They refuse to allow others to “dump” on them, i.e. they refuse to take on responsibilities that rightfully belong to others.
Having overcome their alienation from the Self (their Divine core), awake people act from the center of their being. As a result they have no need to envy or copy others, or to fall into “group think.” If they take up a particular fad or fashion, they do so consciously, rather than from mindless emulation of the crowd.
While awake people are passionate in their commitments and engagement with life, they live without attachments. This is hard for Second Wave people to understand, because so much of Second Wave life and identity is defined by attachments: to job, title, roles, relationships, possessions. We think of ourselves as the “bank manager,” or “Timmy’s mother,” or “president of the company” or the “owner of the BMW.” All these things are still present in the lives of people who are awake, but they don’t clutch them or identify themselves through these external means. Most of all, they have no attachment to outcomes. They have no sense that they have to “make life happen.” They accept in their depths the truth of the old adage that “Man proposes, God disposes.” They don’t hold their “propositions” so tightly that they become devastated if something else turns up instead. This means that they engage with life with much less ego investment than do those asleep. And consequently their relationships with others are quite different.
People awake bring to their relationships a lot less “baggage,” in terms of complexes, unfinished inner business, and unconscious agendas. They are thus able to be more fully “present,” and are better listeners, able to hear with their hearts, as well as with their ears.
Awake people are able to engage with another person knowing where the other is and what his or her needs are. They have a capacity for psychic identification and emotional resonance.
Their humility induces them to give as much or more than they take from others: they are more concerned to serve than to be served. But they understand “service” in the sense of “empowerment.” That is, they recognize the big difference between “helping” and “supporting” (which is described in the essay “Why Helping is Not Appropriate” in this collection). Awake people want to support others, rather than help them.
Finally, those awake, being compassionate, choose to identify with the marginalized, those who suffer, those who have been excluded from the mainstream, those who have been discriminated against by Second Wave society. And so they work in and among the poor, the sick, the elderly and the young, with the handicapped and the vulnerable, in the form or way consonant with their personal mission in life.
Some Miscellaneous Comments
By this point, it is obvious that I have expended a lot of words to talk about “waking up” and what it means and looks like. But, typical of the paradox at the heart of any spiritual truth, the most essential aspects of “waking up” are ineffable, i.e. they cannot be put into words. They must be experienced by the individual person, and are not readily shared with others (because words don’t do the process justice). We can, for example, talk about having epiphanies or mystical moments or feelings of unity with all beings, but these are completely inadequate to convey the actual experience. Partly this is due to the fact that “waking up” involves those “state-specific forms of knowing” that Charles Tart speaks of: Until or unless we get into that higher state of consciousness, we do not have access to that higher level of knowledge or understanding. And much of “waking up” is on higher levels than the level on which the Second Wave world operates. This is a very important limitation that must be borne in mind. Some things simply cannot be fully known by those who are still asleep.
You might be tempted to ask, “Why bother waking up?” The reason is very simple: the more awake we are, the less we suffer. And we do suffer when we are not the master of our own house. That is, when we are not conscious of the unconscious, our inner characters and complexes constantly trip us up, distort our perception, and give grief to us and to those we have to deal with in life. Jung developed a very refined psychology around the core knowledge that, when our complexes are “autonomous,” they bring us a host of problems. These problems form the core of much of the suffering in the world today. Solutions from the Second Wave world—pills, potions, power trips—are palliatives, not true cures. The real “cure” occurs when individuals come out of the “consensus trance” of our culture, begin to wake up and get wise to their “stuff.”
So waking up is a necessity both for individuals and for society at large. But it is not for everyone. It is not possible for everyone. Why not? Because it requires a certain level of ego development and strength. Egotists, narcissists, and some oral types lack sufficient ego development to do the work. (What seems like excessive ego in narcissists is really a compensatory defense mechanism that masks a deep core ego wound.) We cannot sacrifice what we don’t have. To “crucify” the ego, a person must first have an ego sufficiently developed to be given up.
Other groups are also excluded from wake-up work. Those who are very rigid, unable to change, are not able to undertake the process. People who are very much “contained” in religion will find it too threatening to their worldview. Likewise, people who are strong extraverts, very other-directed and dependent on the approval of others, are not well-suited to it. People who live based on the reactions of others, or wedded to the convictions of the Second Wave world, will not have the independence of mind and spirit that this work requires. Many people, especially in the United States (with its bias toward the ESTJ type ), are in this camp, living inauthentic lives built almost entirely on a concern to be “with it,” in the mode of the current fashion or group sensibility.
People who are awake are moving beyond such sensibilities. They recognize the limits and weaknesses of Second Wave reality and abrogate its assumptions. They refuse to believe, for example, that matter is all there is. They deny that the Universe is a machine, or that human beings are separate, and competition is the norm (as Darwinism would have us believe). They perceive reality in very different terms, as I noted above. In so doing, they are forming the nucleus of the emerging reality, the Third Wave reality that will come to the fore after the global mind change in 2012.
This nucleus of awake people is growing now, and as it does, it is becoming easier for others to wake up. This is because of the concept known as the “hundredth monkey phenomenon.” As more and more people around the world are waking up, we are coming closer to the point of “critical mass,” that moment in time when the sheer number of people at a higher level of consciousness will impact the morphogenetic field within which we humans live.
At this point, you might be saying, “Whoa!??? Morphogenetic field? Hello?” Yes. It needs explaining.
Twenty years ago, Rupert Sheldrake, an English student of consciousness research, articulated this concept. He drew upon sources both modern and ancient, like Aristotle’s notion of how change seemed to occur mysteriously in nature. How, for example, does an acorn “know” to form itself into an oak tree? Aristotle ventured the hypothesis of a gestalt or field that was part of acorn-ness that worked to form its shape (Greek ). He took it beyond acorns, to suggest that all of life operates under the influence of these morphogenetic fields.
Ancient thinking was only one of Sheldrake’s sources. The other came from contemporary studies by ethnographers, students of animal behavior. A group of Japanese researchers studying monkeys on some of the isolated islands off the coast of Japan discovered that when a certain number of animals learned a new behavior, other animals of the same species, on far distant islands (i.e. without any possibility of physical contact or direct influence), began to perform the behavior too. Lyall Watson reported this discovery in the Western media, and then other Western scientists undertook experiments in laboratories, with rats, mice, birds, etc. They replicated the Japanese results. Animals seem able to influence each other in some mysterious, as-yet-unclear way. Sheldrake hypothesized, like Aristotle, that it is through the morphogenetic field.
The key seems to be the formation of a “critical mass” of individuals doing the new thing. The impact on the field seems to require a certain number of individuals, which Watson called the “hundredth monkey” phenomenon. Once that hundredth monkey learned the new behavior, then it seemed to spread automatically to others.
Humans are not immune to this morphogenetic phenomenon. We too live immersed in many types of fields, as energy healers realize and ancient wisdom has taught for millennia. Those who teach esoteric techniques, like energy healing, have noticed how, in the last 20 years, students are becoming adept much faster than was true years ago. This reflects the rising level of consciousness. As the general level of consciousness rises, it becomes easier for others to learn and evolve.
What this means, in terms of “waking up,” is that for us it is easier to “wake up” now than it was for our parents, and much easier than it was for our grandparents. And our children will find it easier still. And every person matters. As Jung noted, none of us can be sure that we aren’t the crucial individual that could bring the world to the “critical mass.”
This is very important to keep in mind: Any one of us might be that individual. In this context, “waking up” becomes more than just an individual choice, with personal implications: It becomes something of global consequence.
This is especially true given the approach of the time of the global mind change in 2012. As we have seen already (e.g. on September 11th, 2001) there will be years of turmoil and tragedy before 2012, during which many people will be fearful. Some will experience devastating events that will open them to the possibility of waking up, or of succumbing to fear. Those who are already awake will need to be on the scene to support the people who are “on the fence,” to explain to them what is really going and support them through the transition.
Conclusion
“Waking up” is one of the most positive features of our time, as well as an age-old experience of humanity. Many adepts have left records of their experience. All the major religions of the world are built on it (their founders being men who were awake). It is the natural birthright of all human beings, and will eventually be experienced by everyone.
“Waking up” is essential for all of us in Westernized countries who want to work with the marginalized to create a better world. It is essential because the Second Wave Western mind-set is imperialistic and egotistical, and it will not, indeed cannot, give us a better world. And the process of working to change the world—what I call “leap-frogging”—cannot be ego-driven. We are not in control and cannot try to “make it happen.” A metanoia is needed, and this is what “waking up” is all about. In the essays that follow, I provide insights into the nature and form of leap-frogging, and then consider in depth various aspects of both “waking up” and leap-frogging.
Questions for Further Reflection
Do you consider yourself aware? awake? Do you distinguish between these? If so, how? What is your reaction to my definitions and distinctions between these terms?
Have you ever done something, only to discover afterwards that it had serious impact or effects on others far away (which could not be explained via rational, material causation)?
Do you think your actions could impact others far from you, or the world as a whole? Do you have an appreciation of just how important you are to the evolution of the world?
For Further Reading
Briggs, Isabel, with Peter Myers (1980), Gifts Differing. Palo Alto: Consulting Psychologists’ Press.
Ebert, John David (1999), Twilight of the Clockwork God. Tulsa/San Francisco: Council Oak Books.
Harman, Willis (1984), Higher Creativity: Liberating the Unconscious for Breakthrough Insights. Sausalito CA: Institute of Noetic Sciences.
Hitchcock, John (1991), The Web of the Universe: Jung, the “New Physics” and Human Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.
Jung, Carl (1958), The Undiscovered Self. New York: New American Library.
________ (1992), “Zur Psychologie östlicher Meditation,” Self and Liberation: The Jung-Buddhist Dialogue, eds. Meckel & Moore. New York: Paulist Press.
Kabat-Zinn, Jon (1994), Wherever You Go There You Are: Mindfulness Meditation in Everyday Life. New York: Hyperion.
Keirsey, David & Marilyn Bates (1984), Please Understand Me: Character & Temperament Types. Del Mar CA: Prometheus Nemesis Books.
Keyes, Ken Jr. (n.d.), The Hundredth Monkey. Coos Bay OR: Vision Books.
Krishna, Gopi (1993), Living with Kundalini: The Autobiography of Gopi Krishna. Boston: Shambhala.
Meckel, Daniel & Robert Moore (1992), Self and Liberation: The Jung-Buddhist Dialogue. New York: Paulist Press.
Miyuki, Mokesen (1992), ”Self-Realization in the Ten Oxherding Pictures,” Self and Liberation: The Jung-Buddhist Dialogue. New York: Paulist Press.
Ouspensky, P.D. (1971), A New Model of the Universe. New York: Vintage Books.

Sheldrake, Rupert (1981), A New Science of Life: The Hypothesis of Formative Causation. Los Angeles: J.P. Tarcher.
Tart, Charles (1987), Waking Up: Overcoming the Obstacles to Human Potential. Boston: Shambhala.
Thurston, Mark (1984), Discovering Your Soul’s Purpose. Virginia Beach VA: A.R.E. Press.
________(1996), The Great Teachings of Edgar Cayce. Virginia Beach VA: A.R.E. Press.
Watson, Lyall (1975), “Introduction,” in Blair, Lawrence, Rhythms of Vision. New York: Schocken Books.

Waking Up and Leap-Frogging

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. But from the higher consciousness they do not seem so at all.
In the essays that follow, I will repeatedly refer to the “Second Wave world,” “Second Wave reality,” “Third Wave reality,” and the “global mind change.” Each “wave” is a progression or advance over the preceding wave. Second Wave, for example, is less ignorant or superstitious than the First Wave. It has produced the scientific method and an understanding of the workings of the natural world, which has lessened much of the fear and anxiety that ancient people felt in the face of natural phenomena. But fear is still present. In the same way, the Third Wave represents an evolution of humanity out of more of its fears. Our progress collectively is the story of moving more and more out of fear and into love and trust. So the Third Wave world will be less fearful than the Second Wave world.
Second Wave, our current reality, has many limitations and is fundamentally disempowering. The process of “waking up,” described in the next essay, is, in part, a process of getting wise to these limitations inherent in the Second Wave perspective.
The Concept of The Force. Much as I borrowed the notion of “waves” from Alvin Toffler, I borrowed the phrase “The Force” from the American filmmaker George Lucas. “Star Wars” devotees will remember the phrase “May the Force be with you!” as a common form of benediction. I don’t know just what Lucas meant by the term, but my sense of it is closely akin to what Dante meant when he spoke of the “love that coheres the Universe.”
Three hundred years after Dante, Isaac Newton called this “gravity.” But to me, The Force is not the cold, mechanistic, impersonal, unfeeling concept that “gravity” has become in science. This is not how I see “The Force” at all. I share Dante’s sense of it as loving, involved in the world, caring, warm, constant yet ever-changing, very reliable, yet mysterious, not fully known or even fully knowable. The Force, to me, is deeply personal, infinitely compassionate, powerful but in an unobtrusive way. The Australian aborigines’ concept of “force” is close to what I mean. They use the term “force” to refer to “an energy existing within all creatures, especially within members of a community, which continues for generations, as a unifying power greater than the aggregate of individuals, a spiritual and transcendent reality.” By “transcendent” they mean that this force is beyond any particular person or collective. Humans live in relation to it.
By this point, you might be thinking, “Hm. This sounds like she’s talking about God.” The Swiss psychiatrist, Carl Jung, indeed, defined God as “a superior force.” And you might wonder why I don’t just come out and call it that. Here’s why.
When the subject comes up in my workshops (and it always comes up), people press me to get specific: Is this Force that gives us gravity the Christian God, or the Jewish Jahweh, or Allah, or Krishna, or Buddha? They want to know what I mean.
I offer my questioners no satisfaction: I reply to their question with a challenge (one I offer to you, my reader, also): Please identify for me a religion, denomination, sect, cult (however you want to label these entities) for whom gravity does not work. Silence. In my workshops, at this point there is always silence. No one ventures a response. But there are always a few people who get a slight smile as they get my drift. They have gotten past our Second Wave tendency to label, classify and judge. They recognize that I am using the term “The Force” to talk about a power beyond human labels. This is a power that loves all people, all things, and works for us all the time. In this respect, I think Lucas got it backward: The Force is always with us. It is we who sometimes leave The Force. A better benediction might have been “May you remember that The Force is with you!”
In the essays in this collection, “The Force” will appear frequently. If you choose to read it as “god,” please remember that I am conceiving of this concept as being beyond any current religious labels.
The Concept of “The Self.” The Force is cosmic in scope. Its human equivalent is “The Self.” Note the capital “S.” This is to distinguish it from the self, as in “selfish.” The little “s” self is linked to the personal ego. The capital “S” Self is a concept I borrowed from Carl Jung, the Swiss psychiatrist. He defined Self as “the archetype of a supraordinate, organizing principle of psychic selfhood,” the “Patterner in the life of each human” that “sees to it that the opposites which we need for wholeness will be encountered by us in our lifetime.”
As an archetype, this Self, or Divine core, is universal, found in all cultures, eastern and western, “primitive” and advanced. It is also timeless, found in both modern and ancient civilizations. A “psychological image of transcendence,” the Self was described in detail in Jung’s study “Aion: On the Phenomenology of the Self.” For reasons of space, I cannot do justice to Jung’s subtlety and sophistication. It must suffice to say that, when I refer to “The Self,” I am speaking of the Divine core or spark that lives within each person. It is the source of our dreams, intuitions, and other forms of Divine guidance, as well as of the synchronicities or meaningful coincidences that reveal to us the care and support we have from The Force.
Introduction to the Essays
The essays that follow appear in no particular order, except for the first two, on “waking up” and “leap-frogging,” which should be read first, as they provide definitions of these two key concepts. Every essay that follows them will mention “waking up” and “leap-frogging” repeatedly.
Each essay is the product of one or more dreams, like all of my books. As I note in the essay “In the Grip of the Daimon,” I was very much in the thrall of The Self through this whole process. It literally kept me up nights, as I had dream after dream detailing the themes, contents, and titles of these essays.
The appendices are also the result of dreams. They are included to provide more food for thought. The last, on exercises, is meant to assuage the anxieties of “activists,” who need to “do” something. But, in all likelihood, this list of exercises is not going to be what readers expect. It is not a laundry list of “good” organizations to join, or charities to which you can send money. It offers no political tactics, nor strategies for beating the opposition. This is deliberate: I see all change as beginning inwardly, and it is this inner change I seek to foster. I do this because I am confident that outer change will inevitably follow any inner change. More than this, all my experience suggests to me that outer work to change organizations, institutions, or other people is little more than a subtle way to avoid real change, if it is undertaken in lieu of personal change. Outer activity without prior conscious effort to change oneself is mere projection, a seeing of one’s own “stuff” outside. And all outer action will fail to bring about real, lasting change if the inner work is not taken up.
As I noted in Wake Up, South Africa!, the book preceding this set of essays, we (i.e. Westerners, immersed in the Second Wave mind-set) must wake up before we try to leap frog. We have to start with ourselves and work out from there. This is not a popular approach, because nobody wants to hear that he or she must change. Change is uncomfortable. But personal change is basic. And in taking this stand, I myself am demonstrating the leap-frog option: calling for action that is very different from the Second Wave norm (which takes all change as something outer, so that very little really ever changes at all).
In the end, I hope these essays will give you food for thought, a deeper understanding of what “waking up” and “leap-frogging” entail, and encouragement to come share with me the excitement and joy of working for and with The Force!

For Further Reading
Fort, Timothy L. (1999), “The first man and the company man: the common good, transcendence and mediating institutions,” American Business Law Journal (Spring 1999), 36, no. 13, 391ff.
Hitchcock, John (1991), The Web of the Universe: Jung, the “New Physics” and Human Spirituality. New York: Paulist Press.
Hopcke, Robert (1989), A Guided Tour of the Collected Works of C.G. Jung. Boston: Shambhala.
Jung, C.G. (1959), “Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self,” Collected Works, 9.ii. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
________ (1966), “Two Essays on Analytical Psychology,” Collected Works, 7, 2nd ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
Lammers, Ann Conrad (1994), In God’s Shadow: The Collaboration of Victor White and C.G. Jung. New York: Paulist Press.
Land, George (1986), Grow or Die: The Unifying Principle of Transformation, rev. ed. New York: John Wiley.
________ & Beth Jarman (1992), Breakpoint and Beyond: Mastering the Future Today. New York: HarperCollins.
Maynard, Herman & Susan Mehrtens (1993), The Fourth Wave: Business in the 21st Century. San Francisco: Berrett-Koehler.
Mehrtens, Susan, Barry Lessing & Elizabeth Milne (1999), The Leap Frog Option. Cape Town: Future Managers.
Toffler, Alvin (1980), The Third Wave. New York: Bantam Books.