Depth Psychology Blog

This blog offers information and education about Jungian and Depth Psychology oriented approaches by psychotherapists, counselors, coaches, speakers, authors, healing professionals, and dozens of other modalities. You'll read personal stories from these practitioners about the power of symbols, the unconscious, dreams, archetypes, Jungian thought, nature, ecopsychology, mythology, and so much more. 
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  • 01 May 2013 2:48 PM | Bonnie Bright (Administrator)

    The Myths of Mary Magdalene: An Interview with
    Kayleen Asbo & Bonnie Bright for Depth Insights

    In this written interview, Depth Insights host Bonnie Bright interviews Kayleen Asbo, cultural historian, musician, writer, and teacher on the topic of “The Myths of Mary Magdalene,” also the title of her upcoming webinar series. The first of that series, “The Many Faces of Mary Magdalene” is free to the public (must register to join) and takes place May 1, 2013, at 7pm PT. 

    BB: How did you get interested in Mary Magadelene, and where did you begin your research?

    KA: My first memory of Mary Magdalene is as a five year old little girl, crying at the song "I Don't Know How to Love Him" in a movie theatre when I saw Jesus Christ Superstar, The song haunted me and a few years later, when my first piano was delivered, I spent the first few days trying to pick it out by ear. About ten years ago, I had a very powerful dream in which Mary Magdalene appeared and said if I wanted to find the real Christianity, I should follow the trail from France to Wales. I took the dream seriously, and have been researching early Christianity and its manifestations in France and the British Isles every since. I don't know if it is "real" Christianity, but I have discovered an amazing set of stories and myths and had incredible adventures along the way.

     

    BB: That speaks so strongly to the power and influence of the unconscious on our lives—both through music and through dreams. When the dream said "follow the trail from France to Wales," did you know what that meant? Were you already familiar with manifestations of Mary Magdalene in those places? Are there real-life instances of Mary Magdalene there, and if so, what are some of the specific images or stories you found? Tell us about your discoveries, how you felt, and what they meant to you at the time and even now.

    KA:I had no idea what the dream meant at all. Mary Magdalene and France?...That made no sense to me at the time. It was the year before The DaVinci Code came out, and I had no knowledge about the Medieval legends of her there. I drew a picture the following week filled with other symbols which also made no sense to me then—an Egyptian ankh and some symbols that I later discovered were alchemical images. It has been a slow process of putting together the pieces- and it has taken me on a wild adventure, returning almost every year to Europe to follow new clues. I identified primarily (and still do) with a form of spirituality that is based in Benedictine monastic practices. One of the things I discovered in tracing her pathway in Provence is that the site where she ostensibly spent the last 30 years of her life praying and meditating in a cave is the very site that John Cassian also founded a double monastery after he left Egypt—and he was the foundation upon which St Benedict built his Rule, with its emphasis on imaginal connection to scripture and the idea of the prayer of the heart.

    I feel like Wales was a bit of a goose chase. I was expecting to find some sort of wonderful spiritual community there that spoke to my deepest longings—and that didn't happen. What did happen, however, is that I went pony trekking on my birthday (the feast day of Mary Magdalene, July 22) in the wilds of the Black Mountains. We were talking to the proprietor of the tiny B & B and she was telling us stories about her artist father. I got cold goose bumps on my arms and asked his name. It was Eric Gill, the lithographer. My spiritual director, a Dominican nun, had given me a copy of his picture "The Nuptials of God," which had carried around in my wallet. It is as you see [at right], an image of Mary Magdalene and Jesus in an intensely erotic embrace. He had created the image on the very ground I was standing. I'll be going back to Wales this Fall to facilitate a women's dreamquest- I hope I can find a few more clues while I am there this time!

     

    BB: It's very exciting to hear stories of synchronicity like the connection you made in Wales to Eric Gill. I believe the best research happens out of paying attention to such synchronicities. What if you hadn't paid attention to those goosebumps—or even engaged in conversation with the proprietor? Its great you're going to follow up. On that note, can you say more about the images that exist of Mary Magdalene and Jesus in erotic relationship and how you perceive that aspect of Mary's life? While its true that the Dan Brown novel brought this idea to the forefront of pop culture, I can't imagine there are many of those images, or artists who have had the courage to realize them.

    KA:There are implications of an intensely erotic relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene from the earliest days of Christianity, even in traditional orthodox literature. For example, the very erotic love poem The Song of Solomon (Song of Songs) was assigned as one of the Catholic liturgical readings for her feast day. It is filled with images of powerful yearning and union with lines like "Let him cover me with kisses, for your love is sweeter than wine",  and "I am sick with longing." The imagery is of nuptial union and it is very explicit. That theme of yearning is also present in the psalm that was chanted on her feast day as well: Psalm 42, "As the deer longs for the waterbrook, so yearns my soul for you, O God.” 

    Sculpture by Rodin

    There are a surprising number of artists who have created images long before Dan Brown that bespeak of intimacy—the Rodin sculpture  "Jesus and Mary Magdalene" [at left] in the Legion of Honor museum in San Francisco is one, made all the more potent because Rodin modeled Mary Magdalene after his own doomed mistress, Camille Claudel. The question is—and has always been—do we take these images and poems literally or symbolically? The Song of Solomon was the favorite of Christian mystics and monastics, vowed to lives of celibacy, but individuals who saw in these texts (and sometimes images as well) a beautiful representation of the soul's yearning for union with the Divine in a spiritual sense.

    I meet many people who have a very strong and intense reaction one way or another to the idea of Jesus and Mary in an erotic union or marriage. Some are horrified, others fascinated and compelled. For me personally, it is not one of the central questions. Theirs was an Erotic relationship, in the largest, Platonic sense of the word: full of vitality, life force, intimacy and transformational power. And it could have been physical, but it didn't have to be. I think at a collective level what we see behind the current fascination around this question of "Did they or didn't they?" is the hunger in our world to bring together the sexual and the spiritual in a sacramental way of integration. How do we do that ourselves in our own lives? For me that is a much more important and urgent question. Our culture has (for the most part) a radically secular understanding of sexuality and then there is often a radically disembodied spiritual life. For many people, there is church on Sunday and then there is Las Vegas on Friday and Saturday. I think this causes all kinds of shadow issues and psychic disintegration, with suffering at both an individual and collective level. Mary Magdalene invites us to consider how to hold the tension of those seeming opposites together.

    One of the things that most intrigues me about Mary Magdalene is how she has been perceived as virtually every possible female archetype. While so many people identify her with the sexual element, with the penitent sinner, adulteress or prostitute, this was really an invention that developed only in the west during the 4th through 6th centuries. Catholic dogma from the time of Pope Gregory taught that once she repented of her sexual sins, she lived the life of a celibate ascetic. It is an interesting case of enantiodromia [an abrupt shift of direction]. This was never part of the doctrine of the Eastern Orthodox Church where she is perceived as the Apostle to the Apostles—always both pious and virginal. Martin Luther and Brigham Young are just two of the figures in history who believed she was married to Jesus, and once again many people are wanting to fit her into that role. 

    What I love is that she can't fit into a box because she is so multifaceted. You see this particularly in the history of art. The Virgin Mary always looks about 22, lithe and lovely, and almost always blonde with a face of placid serenity. With Mary Magdalene, there is a radical diversity. She is young and old, voluptuous and emaciated, prim and pornographic, glamorous and haggar; of every race, with every hair color, and with expressions of every emotion from hysteria to meditative contemplation, and desolate grief to ecstatic joy. [See *note below and image at right by Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo]. The word that the gnostics used to describe her is “anthropos,” a word meaning “fully human.” I think she is a profound mirror (and teacher) of what it might mean to be just that—fully human. 


    BB: It is interesting that we have projected so much onto Mary Magdalene—as you say, she has been perceived as virtually every possible female archetype. In many ways, she seems to be a unifier. In fact, Carl Jung spoke poignantly about the the long-repressed call for a return of the feminine as a Deity and in 1950 when the Catholic church made the announcement of the Assumption of Mary, he called it "the most important religious event since the Reformation." (in The Essential Jung by Anthony Storr 1983 p. 324), adding that as the Virgin had bodily entered Heaven, it meant that "the heavenly bride was united with the bridegroom," their union signifying the hieros gamos, or sacred marriage referred to in alchemy. In other words, Jung believed the event fulfilled our archetypal need for a feminine deity on some level, in that the bringing together of these two archetypal forces allowed a release of the tension of opposites. I would argue that while it was indeed helpful for our culture on some level, we still have a long way to go before that archetypal balance will be restored on a broad cultural plane. What role do you think Mary Magdalene has played in helping to establish balance in the collective, and how might each of us engage with her in our own individuation processes?

    KA: I think Mary Magdalene really could be the figure for our times who holds the key to alchemical transformation. For us modern seekers, it much easier to relate to the idea of a sacred partnership or hieros gamos between Jesus and the Magdalene than bridal mysticism through Jesus and his mother. She holds fascination for people regardless of their religious background. I've met Pagans, Christians, Jews, and Atheists who are all equally drawn to her. Many of the Gnostic texts indicate that she was seen as the embodiment of Sophia or Divine Wisdom—but a kind of embodied wisdom is what we really need now. She holds that better than any other figure I know. She was called “The Woman Who Knew All,” and the arc of her legends encompasses both grace and disgrace, the body and the spirit, grief and joy in equal measure.

    Her symbols as well, encompass a profound duality. Magdala means “tower," but she is also associated with the symbols of the wild forest, returning to nature. While she lived the first part of her life a wealthy city woman in Palestine, according to French legend, her last thirty years were spent in silent meditation in a cave in the remote mountains of Provence. Her color, red, is both a symbol of sin (scarlet woman, woman in red) and spiritual authority (cardinal red, the pope's red shoes). For a decade now, I have witnessed in my workshop participants a profound transformative spark once they see the range of images that have been created inspired by her or begin to create their own stories, poems, and paintings through active imagination. One of my favorite paintings is by Georges de la Tour [see right]. In it, there is both deep shadow and a gentle candlelit illumination as Mary Magdalene is deep in reflection, symbolized by the mirror. Mary Magdalene seems very pregnant and on her lap she holds a skull. How much we need that as a symbol in our times! To be able to hold death and suffering in our laps, and still be filled with hope and new life as we reflect upon the light of illumination! That is such a powerful symbol for all us, both as individuals and as a collective—one that has the power to truly transform us if we let it enter us.

    ###

    To register for the free webinar on May 1, “The Many Faces of Mary Magdalene” which explores Mary Magdalene through myths over the centuries, from faithful disciple to penitent prostitute, embodiment of Wisdom and possible bride of Christ to contemporary guide to fulfillment and wholeness—or the entire upcoming series, “The Myths of Mary Magdalene,” with Kayleen Asbo, M.A., click here or visit Kayleen's web sites at www.kayleenasbo.com and www.mythsofmarymagdalene.com

    ###

    *Note for second image above: The wise, knowing half smile on this Magdalene's face and the silvery sheen of her cloak have made many viewers assume that this is the work of a very modern painter. Surprise! This image of Magdalene—one which embodies such an air of mystery-was painted in the year 1540. While it depicts Mary coming to the tomb (you can see the annointing jar to the far left), the focus here is not on outward action, but inner insight in the moment before she sees the world in a transfigured way. This is the perfect image to accompany the timeless sense of Mary Magdalene which has been reclaimed in our era: a woman of profound wisdom whose spiritual teachings focus on inner contemplation and awareness. 

    **All images provided by Kayleen Asbo and retain their original copyrights by the original owners.


    Kayleen Asbo is a cultural historian, musician, writer and teacher who weaves together myth, history, and the arts with experiential learning. Kayleen is on the faculty of the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, Sonoma State University in the Psychology department and the Osher Life Long Learning Institutes at UC Berkeley and Dominican University. Her classes on a wide array of topics ranging from Dante to Contemporary Music have been hailed as "inspirational", "fascinating and compelling" , "transformational"  and "truly life changing".

    Kayleen holds three master's degrees in music, mythology and psychology. She is currently a doctoral candidate in Mythological Studies with an emphasis in Depth Psychology at the Pacifica Graduate Institute. Kayleen has been a guest presenter and lecturer on the intersection of history, psychology and the arts at Oxford University in England, the Assisi Institute of Depth Psychology Conference in Italy, Chartres Cathedral in France, Grace Cathedral, the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, the Institute for Transpersonal Psychology, and other colleges throughout the San Francisco Bay Area. Kayleen is one of four Master Teachers worldwide for the Veriditas Labyrinth Organization, and facilitates workshops at Chartres Cathedral in France every year.

     

    Bonnie Bright is the principle and and founder of Depth Insights™, Depth Psychology Alliance™, and Depth Psychology List™. She holds M.A. degrees from Sonoma State University and Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara, CA, where she is currently a Ph.D. candidate in Depth Psychology.

    Depth Insights™ provides media, content, and education for the greater depth psychology community, including written and audio interviews and the semi-annual peer reviewed publication, Depth Insights scholarly eZine.

    Depth Psychology Alliance
    , the world's first online academic community for those who are active and interested in the fields of Depth and Jungian Psychologies in 2010--a dynamic organization that surpassed 2,000 members in January 2013. The Alliance is a hub for finding depth psych-related events, blogs, videos, articles and for discussion, learning and connecting with likeminded others.

    Depth Psychology List
    is a premier destination to find or list depth psychology oriented therapists and practitioners by location or type of services offered.

    This interview is also posted on Depth Insights.

  • 29 Apr 2013 3:08 AM | Lucinda Tinsley

    I was attracted to and trained in the Huber method, which combines astrology with psychology. Astrology however, is the oldest form of psychology as it deals with the underlying energies of the reasons for our actions, attitudes and responses.  This ancient knowledge has lost its merit through the development of the logical and linear mindset of western society. Viewed and judged from the Sun sign only has also devalued its wisdom and purpose.  Fortunately there have been those who, from a deep curiosity delve into this fascinating subject.  Each serious astrologer has added their own insights for others to gain deeper wisdom. As we evolve, so does our understanding of this higher knowledge.              

    Viewed from the logical mind, astrology makes little sense, after all how can the planets affect our lives?  However, the planets are symbols of our psychological drives, which we as human beings all share. Even from the linear mindset, astrology starts to make sense.  We all, for example, have feelings and emotions, which are shown through the Moon. We all have Mars, our assertive energy, to fulfill our desires. Our need to communicate and learn is symbolized by Mercury.  The Birth Chart is a diagram of where each planet was placed at the moment of our birth.    The sign, house and aspect to each planet gives a picture of our inner psychological energy patterns, which needs to be understood from a wider perspective. However, it also needs to make practical sense, in other words it is bringing astrology down to earth!  The Birth Chart shows the underlying cause of the effects we create in our lives. The main benefit is in the insight it gives in the development of the uniqueness of each individual.  What a tool this can be!!

    The Birth Chart is a Tool we need to use!

    The Birth Chart is a tool we can use to understand not only ourselves but life more fully.  Self Awareness gives a smoother ride to change; otherwise it can seem like fate alone rules our destiny.   Used in therapy this can zoom into the problems that could take weeks or months to uncover.  It brings in another perspective and gives greater insight into a problem or situation.  Understanding our inner drives and how our attitudes and thought forms are established can help in dealing with our lives. How these create our life and from this knowledge how we can learn to work with our energy patterns.   After all isn’t this what psychology is all about?                   

    Carl Jung included man’s spiritual dimension into his work, hence stretching mans consciousness.  He knew and used astrology, combining it well with psychology. As we grow and evolve in consciousness I do believe astrology will retain its status and more so its value and usefulness.  Used for self understand and to bring harmony within ourselves will indeed expand our conscious awareness.  This is the gift of this ancient psychology.    


     

     

    Astrologer Lucinda Tinsley as been studying Astrology for over 20 years She helps those who seek deeper insights into life and themselves. Using the psychological approach in understanding your personal Birth Chart she leads you towards your authentic self, to understanding your challenges and discovering your innate potentials. Her web site, http:// www.lucindatinsley.com has many articles written to help those who want to understand astrology through their own Birth Chart
  • 21 Apr 2013 10:18 PM | Bonnie Bright (Administrator)

    Nature Has No “Outside:” Navigating the Ecological Self

    “Spirit is the inside of things and matter is their visible outer aspect” (Jung, in Sabini, 2005, p. 2).

    “I can only gaze with wonder and awe at the depths of and heights of our psychic nature. Its non-spatial universe conceals an untold abundance of images which have accumulated over millions of years of living development and become fixed in the organism….Beside this picture I would like to place the spectacle of the starry heavens at night, for the only equivalent of the universe within is the universe without; and just as I reach this world through the medium of the body, so I reach that world through the medium of the psyche” (Jung, in Ryan, 2002, p. 18).


    In nature, it is concretely evident how everything is interrelated. We can look at any aspect of the environment and see and name hundreds or even thousands of relationships with other facets of the environment. No man is a silo, yet the individual of Descartes’ vision required a strong, self-directing ego as the optimum situation for success and well-being. Rather than continuing to propagate and strengthen the illusion of the “individual,” it is critical to reconceptualize it, embracing instead an image of an ecology of the psyche, a system that encompasses all, traversing human-conceived boundaries of time, culture, and species. In truth, we each carry various elements of “other” within us: spirits of ancestors long since gone, traditions and ritual from distant peoples we know nothing about, and energetic archetypes from the natural world. In this post, I focus on the nature of the psyche, the landscape that engulfs the Cartesian divide, the reciprocal, indivisible ecological universe that unites the “individual” and the “other” in one vast relational world.

    Western culture developed as a union of equal individuals who can successfully out-think other species. Dualism, a separation of spirit from matter, subject from object, and mind from body became the hallmark of western culture, placing humans in top position of a hierarchical order where “he who thinks, wins.” The feminine way of being that circled around mythic imagination, cyclical time, participatory knowing, ritual, or magic was relegated to the realm of suspicion, resulting in devastating loss. We distanced ourselves from other species that could act as guides and allies and increasingly availed ourselves of the earth’s “resources” because we found them devoid of life and spirit. In western culture and consequently, in psychoanalysis, the concept of a “self-contained individual” was an obvious foundation for reducing drives, motivations, and behaviors to “inside” and “outside” (Foster, Moskowitz, & Javier, 1996).

    Culture consists of what an individual needs to know or believe in order to operate in an appropriate or acceptable manner to members of that society. It is significant, then, that since psychology was founded by a handful of men who were members of a rather singular and similar European culture that the main roots of psychoanalysis would reflect their specific lenses. Indeed, Freud’s early theory that repressed or cut-off memories were at the root of pathology and needed to be unearthed in order to find a state of relief focused entirely on the inner world of the individual and paid little attention to social surround or context (Foster, et al., 1996).  

    Language as a Navigator

    Over time, as attention to social context increased and relational theories picked up speed it became clear that language was the obvious vehicle that traversed the established structure of the psyche, even in its illusory dualistic structure of “inner and outer”, “self and other” (Elliott, 2002). Language, then, as Lacan put forward, is a strong determinant of relationship, not only to fellow members of our own culture as we know it, but also to other elements that are not immediately evident and which have not traditionally been included or integrated into psychoanalytic environment. These elements, located both within us and without, exist across time, between cultures, and even between species. All of these features combine to make up an ecological system, the “home” in which our ego participates as a small, equal part to a much bigger organism, the ecology of the self. In the psychoanalytic process, when looking at a narrow definition of self that contains only dualistic pairings like “inside and outside,” “self and other,” or “subject and object,” analysts and patients can easily get entangled in trying to identify where a particular issue lies (Stolorow, Atwood, & Orange, 2002). In an ecological sphere that encompasses the whole of nature and every element in it, language can easily traverse perceived borders, moving freely about.

    In the developmental process, British linguist Michael Halliday (1975) determined that children are motivated to learn language because it satisfies physical, emotional and social needs. His work went further, however, in helping to pioneer Ecolinguistics, a field that addresses both social context in which language is embedded, as well as the ecological context in which societies are embedded, inviting new consideration, then, of the ecological context and consequences of language. One particular area of interest was how to make linguistics relevant to the increasing and widespread destruction of ecosystems (Fill & Mühlhäusler, 2001).

    It is impossible to perceive or define an “inside” and an “outside” of nature. “Ecology” comes from the Greek oikos meaning "house, dwelling place, or habitation” ("ecology," n.d.) is a place where we locate ourselves, the system in which we existundefinednot as silos but as coherent, complex participants related to all things, containing all while at the same time existing as a part of a much bigger whole. Ecological science studies how the distribution and abundance of living organisms is affected by interactions between those organisms and their environment. An environment comprises both physical properties like climate and geology, as well as other organisms. The first principle of ecology holds that every living organism sustains an ongoing and continual relationship with every other element that makes up its environment. Within any ecosystem, species are connected and dependent upon one another, and exchange energy and matter between themselves and with their environment (New World Encyclopedia, n.d.). The concept of an ecosystem includes units of variable size: perhaps it may also be called a “culture.”

    The Ecology of the Psyche

    Psychotherapist Martin Jordan (2009) asserts that Freud failed to acknowledge the significance of the nonhuman environment in the development of human psychological life. Theodore Roszak, a pioneer of ecopsychology, later elaborated on Freud’s theory by asserting at the center of the unconscious is the ecological unconscious, the repression of man’s evolutionary relationship to nature, which ultimately resulted in the industrialized society. For Theodore Roszak, an early ecopsychologist, the therapeutic goal of ecopsychology is to allow the emergence of the environmental reciprocity that is currently repressed in the ecological unconscious, thereby allowing healing of both individuals and earth (Jordan, 2009). Nature, filled with metaphor and image and a cosmos of elements constantly held in relation to each other, offers us as a part of it the same opportunities when relating to the “other,” whether it is other people, other cultures, or other species.

    The work of John Bowlby led to specific definitions of attachment theory in what he determined is ongoing psychological connectedness between human beings (Mitchell & Black, 1995). In contemporary culture, neurotic issues in the form of narcissism, existential crises, ambivalence, fear and the like are projected out onto the environment leaving us an infantile sense of control. The attachment relationship helps the infant cope with stress and thus early positive experience of the self in union with another is crucial to the infant’s capacity to mitigate emotions. The three variants of attachment include securely-attached individuals who feel intimacy and trust fairly easily without significant fears of abandonment or invasion, those with avoidant attachmentpatterns who cannot seem to trust others enough to ever allow themselves to become very dependent, and anxious/ambivalent individuals, those who experience fear that they cannot get intimate enough or that others will reject them.

    Jordan (2009) insists object relations theory misses the boat by not including relationship to nature. While acknowledging instances of indigenous peoples who formed healthy reciprocal attachment relationships with nature, he cites our fear as a culture of dependency on the planet, which fulfils the role of nurturing provider. In failing to express our need and repressing the anxiety we cannot process, we retreat to a position that gives us the illusion of being invulnerable, a position of ambivalent attachment. Unlike the aborigines who viewed the natural world as a metaphysical landscape which could express deep spiritual yearnings, western culture views land and self as separate entities, unconnected by interdependent relationship. For earth-based cultures, the “more-than-human” world was also part of an ecological self. Concurrently, Jordan cautions against idealizing indigenous relations to natures, reminding us our ongoing conflict and regard of the current ecological crisis must integrate Klein’s “depressive position” to integrate the fact that nature can be destructive as well as rewarding as evidenced in recent natural disasters.

    Jordan (2009) believes acknowledging our ambivalence can perhaps lead to emotional maturation, allowing us to live with it and not to act out in a narcissistic or controlling manner. He insists that just as Winnicott thought we related with the true self through the vitality of our physical bodies, by celebrating the complexity of human emotions--including those of love and the capacity for empathy and reparation--alongside the diversity of the natural world, we come into right relation. This amounts not to a balance between “inner” and “outer,” but of the complete ecology of being. Paul Shepard (1998) agrees that our relationships with each other and with nature stem from primal fears and fantasies that reside in our unconscious. While concurring that our capacity to differentiate an “other” stems from the maternal relationship, he posits it is formed in conjunction with the environment that encompasses mother and child. In the evolutionary development of the physical world, that environment consisted of natural elements including wind, rain, earth, animals, plants, and insects among others. All these were internalized and integrated as the self.

    Therapist Mary-Jayne Rust (2005) concurs we are human in good part because of the way we relate to other organisms and goes further to claim that humans hunger for connection not only to other humans, but also to place and to nature. The field of evolutionary psychology takes into consideration how the individual psyche integrates the ultimate move from our evolutionary homelands in the natural world to the urban environments we dwell in today. As Diamond (1997) points out, within the past 50 years, almost 50% of the world population has come to dwell in cities. It is impossible not to think that the changes in the physical landscape in which we now locate ourselves has a drastic impact on our wellbeing and that of the planet (Milton, 2009). Because the inner and outer all form one ecological system, we carry a piece of what Laurens van der Post called the “Bushman mind” which includes memories of place, nature, traditions, and ways of being that we are no longer connected to in our modern way of life (Barnard, 1989).

    Our psyche originated in nature, and it is also there where we can find freedom. Displacement, colonization, and urbanization have led to exploitation of so-called natural “resources” in a new and amplified way. In turn, this emerges as trauma of the individual and collective psyche, as Jerome Bernstein (2005) argues in Living in the Borderland. Borderlanders, those who are especially sensitive to the split with nature and nature’s own attempt to reconnect, don’t feel “about” the planet’s suffering, the actually feel the suffering and pain, manifesting trauma in bodily or psychic symptoms of their own. Ecopsychology argues that we as a species are inseparable from our relationships with the physical world, and that environmental questions are deeply rooted in the psyche, coinciding with our image of self. Denial of a reciprocal bond on the part of humans creates suffering for both humans and the environment, whereas seeking reconnection and working through issues of grief and despair can be healing for both. Increasing interest in bringing ecological issues into the therapy process has resulted in a growing branch of the psychoanalytic domain termed Ecotherapy (Davis, 1998).

    Conclusion

    In the world of psyche, I cannot be separate from any other element in my environment. The concept of “individual” in the literal Cartesian sense is null. The outer physical landscape of the earth is a reflection of our inner, psychical terrain, a mirror image that echoes both peaks and valleys over the history of our lives. Landmarks dot the topography of my mind so that I recognize certain events and history that have made me who I am today, standing where I do in relation to it all.  I can use language to navigate within that ecological sphere, aided by the images abundant in nature of the dynamic relationships of each element with every other element. A therapist/patient dyad choosing to adopt this view can strongly benefit from acknowledging and locating themselves in relation to the totality of it at any given time. Rust (2005) validates that language helps reconnect self with body and land. Reminding us that the root word “natus” also means to be born, she relates her own endeavors to practice psychotherapy with “ecology in mind,” attempting to articulate explicitly her own interconnections between self and the earth and encouraging those issues to emerge for her clients in sessions as well. Recounting her own experience at a women’s therapy center of developing a language connecting psyche and soma, she muses on the potential of creating a language incorporating self and earth as do many languages in indigenous cultures that weave together body and land, community, and universe. 

    The concept of an ecosystem of the self offers the possibility of dynamic movement that considers all possibilities in the same moment, and any movement therein affects all the others, not simply juxtaposing our old, outdated dualistic thinking of simply inner and outer, us and them, subject and object, but demolishing them completely. Ecophilosopher Sigmund Kvaloy, for example, articulates how a shift in conventional thinking can allow us to envision a place where we move inside when leaving a building or city, and stay outside by remaining indoors (in Rust, 2005). In the end, as Rust reminds us, “If we are able to re-conceive the self as interconnected with body, soul and land, we might just be giving ourselves and clients the tools to recreate a life where self, nature and culture are reconnected” (p. 7).

     

    Bonnie Bright is the founder of Depth Psychology Alliance, the world's first comprehensive online community for depth psychology, and hosts a podcast, Depth Insights, as well as editing the semi-annual scholarly e-zine of the same name. She recently founded www.DepthPsychologyList.com, a free online database to find or list depth psychology oriented therapists and practitioners. She holds Masters degrees in Psychology and Depth Psychology, and is a Ph.D. candidate at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara, CA. Follow her on Twitter @bonniebright5 or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/BonnieBright.DepthPsych


    Some References

    Barnard, A. (1989). The Lost World of Laurens van der Post. Current Anthropology, 30(1), 104-114

    Davis, J. (1998). The transpersonal dimensions of ecopsychology:

    Nature, nonduality, and spiritual practice. The Humanistic Psychologist, 26(1-3), 60-100.

    "ecology."  (n.d.). Online Etymology Dictionary. Retrieved fromhttp://www.etymonline.com/index.php?term=ecology

    "ecology."  (n.d.). New world encyclopedia. Retrieved fromhttp://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Ecology

    Elliott, A. (2002). Psychoanalytic theory: An introduction (2nd ed.). Durham, NC: Duke University Press.

    Fill, A., & Mühlhäusler, P. (2001). The ecolinguistics reader: Language, ecology and environment. New York: Continuum.

    Foster, R. P., Moskowitz, M., & Javier, R. A. (Eds.). (1996). Reaching across boundaries of culture and class: Widening the scope of psychotherapy. Northvale, NJ: Jason Aronson Inc.

    Jordan, M. (2009). Nature and self: An ambivalent attachment? Ecopsychology, 1(1), 26-31.

    Milton, M. (2009). Waking up to nature: Exploring a new direction for psychological practice.Ecopsychology, 1(1), 8-13.

    Mitchell, S. A., & Black, M. J. (1995). Freud and beyond: a history of modern psychoanalytic thought. New York: Basic Books.

    Rust, M.-J. (2005). Ecolimia nervosa? Eating problems and ecopsychology. Therapy Today: British Association for Counselling and Psychotherapy Journal. Retrieved fromwww.mjrust.net/downloads/Ecolimia%20Nervosa.pdf

    Ryan, R. E. (2002). Shamanism and the psychology of C.G. Jung: The great circle. London: Vega.

    Sabini, M. (Ed.). (2005). The earth has a soul: The nature writings of C.G. Jung. Berkeley, CA: North Atlantic Books.

    Shepard, P. (1998). Nature and madness (2nd ed.). Athens, GA: University of Georgia Press.

    Stolorow, R. D., Atwood, G. E., & Orange, D. M. (2002). Worlds of experience: Interweaving philosophical and clinical dimensions in psychoanalysis. New York: Basic Books.

  • 19 Apr 2013 1:16 AM | Bonnie Bright (Administrator)

    Working with Dreams: Depth Psychology Techniques of Carl Gustav Jung and James Hillman

    Dream work is ancient, it’s long tradition evidenced in the temples of Asclepius in Greece where individuals went to be healed through their dreams. Dreams have been an important aspect of many spiritual traditions, and even Freud considered the study of dreams to be his most important work. There are many methods of dream analysis. When working with dreams, it can be helpful to intentionally assess them from various aspects, including mythical, archetypal, alchemical, and collective, and to pay attention to which resonate most strongly emotionally and elicit even a physical response in order to begin to understand what insights are being gifted through your unconscious.

    In The Dream and the Underworld, James Hillman prefers to allow the dream and dream symbols to remain what they are, and not to analyze and interpret them but to simply interact with them and see what comes about. However, Hillman’s method of seeing focuses far more on an artistic view than from a therapeutic or results-oriented standpoint. As such, when it comes to dreams and symbols, he stays with the process and activity itself instead of seeking an outcome or solution. He values the description over interpretation, the animating and making a thing come alive rather than suffocating it with a contrived explanation from outside the dream. He thrives on visiting the dream in its own realm of power, the underworld, and in honoring it by allowing it to be its own entity there instead of trying to make it come alive in our ordinary world of thinking.

    Hillman’s goal, as was Jung’s, is to get ever closer to the characters and activity in the dream realm, but as opposed to Jung who then turned to amplification in order to find meaning and interpretation at the level of the waking ego, Hillman chooses not to bring the dream element back into waking life and force it to match up with symbols or meanings we already hold. In fact, Hillman claims that to bring the dream out of the underworld actually betrays the dream. Hillman advocates finding wordplays, asking questions of the objects themselves, and then allowing them to live out their own soul-like existence without comparison or contrast to external references. He chides us in our desire to analyze, our wish to know, and speaks of “letting our desire die away into its images (p. 201).

    I find Hillman’s technique enjoyable and rewarding as an activity, like reading a good book or watching a movie with a plot and characters that take place in front of your eyes. It is mentally stimulating, interesting, creative, and even insightful on its own terms. However, as a thinking/intuitive type, analysis and interpretation come as naturally as breathing to me, and I simply can’t conceive of doing dream work without some aspect of interpretation. If I truly believe that the unconscious is trying to communicate through dreams, and that there is a message in store that can help lead to my individuation, I must also adopt some of Jung’s (and many others) methods, in order to draw some conclusions. Otherwise, I simply recognize events or aspects of my life much later and don’t benefit from the learning aspect of my dreams as Jung purported.

    Jung stresses the value of compensation in dreams, describing it as a means of “balancing and comparing different data or points of view so as to produce an adjustment or a rectification” (1960, p. 75). Robert Sardello (1995) sums up Hillman’s approach as metaphorical as contrasted to Jung’s approach, which is symbolic. However, he reminds us, “dreams are not metaphors for something else, but a different reality, a metaphorical reality” (p. 110). Robert Hoss (2005) claims compensation appears “in order to reveal misconceptions and inappropriate myths that have bound us in conflict, to provide an alternative path or reversal in our thinking about the dream, and to lead us in the direction of transformation and release” (p. 115). 

    Though Jung believed virtually every dream was compensatory, Hillman dismisses the compensation theory because, according to him, dreams are made partial, one-sided and imbalanced and therefore require the dreamer to turn to the dayworld aspects of ego to find the missing elements in order to find meaning (1979).

    Jung asserts, “A dream…is a product of the total psyche. Hence, we may expect to find in dreams everything that has ever been of significance in the life of humanity” (1960, p. 65). Here, Jung refers to the archetypal quality of dreams, the idea that universal patterns, which are the building blocks of the collective unconscious, also make up our dreams. Robert Johnson insists “we incarnate the archetypes with our physical lives” (p. 62) and that we must research mythology and seek to understand the characteristics of the archetype, once identified, in order to understand its role in our lives. The archetypal aspect must be connected to a personal perspective or it is pointless, Johnson goes on, because “every symbol in your dream has a special, individual connotation that belongs to you alone…even when a symbol has a collective or universal meaning, it still has a personal coloration for you and can be fully explained only from within you” (p. 63).

    Regardless of which dream method you adopt, there is usually not one “right” translation. Dreams hold knowledge and insight for us on many levelsundefinedoften at the same time. If you’re interested in dreams, be sure to check out a free upcoming teleseminar on dreams by Jungian analyst Dr. Michael Conforti, whose methods adhere closely to Jung’s and who has been working with dreams for more than three decades. Details for the upcoming/archived teleseminar can be found here undefinedand don’t hesitate to look for depth practitioners here on DepthPsychologyList.com who offer dreamwork as well.


    Bonnie Bright is the founder of Depth Psychology Alliance, the world's first comprehensive online community for depth psychology, and hosts a podcast, Depth Insights, as well as editing the semi-annual scholarly e-zine of the same name. She recently founded www.DepthPsychologyList.com, a free online database to find or list depth psychology oriented therapists and practitioners. She holds Masters degrees in Psychology and Depth Psychology, and is a Ph.D. candidate at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara, CA. Follow her on Twitter @bonniebright5 or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/BonnieBright.DepthPsych

     

    Some References

    Hillman, J. (1979). The dream and the underworld. New York: Harper & Row.

    Hoss, R. J. (2005). Dream language: Self-understanding through image and color. Ashland, OR: Innersource.net.

    Johnson, R. A. (1986). Inner work: Using dreams & active imagination for personal growth. San Francisco: HarperCollins.

    Jung, C. G. (1960). Dreams (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). New York: Routledge.

    Sardello, R. (1995). Love and the soul: Creating a future for earth. New York: HarperCollins.

  • 19 Apr 2013 1:16 AM | Bonnie Bright (Administrator)

    Working with Dreams: Depth Psychology Techniques of Carl Gustav Jung and James Hillman

    Dream work is ancient, it’s long tradition evidenced in the temples of Asclepius in Greece where individuals went to be healed through their dreams. Dreams have been an important aspect of many spiritual traditions, and even Freud considered the study of dreams to be his most important work. There are many methods of dream analysis. When working with dreams, it can be helpful to intentionally assess them from various aspects, including mythical, archetypal, alchemical, and collective, and to pay attention to which resonate most strongly emotionally and elicit even a physical response in order to begin to understand what insights are being gifted through your unconscious.

    In The Dream and the Underworld, archetypal psychologist and post-Jungian James Hillman prefers to allow the dream and dream symbols to remain what they are, and not to analyze and interpret them but to simply interact with them and see what comes about. However, Hillman’s method of seeing focuses far more on an artistic view than from a therapeutic or results-oriented standpoint. As such, when it comes to dreams and symbols, he stays with the process and activity itself instead of seeking an outcome or solution. He values the description over interpretation, the animating and making a thing come alive rather than suffocating it with a contrived explanation from outside the dream. He thrives on visiting the dream in its own realm of power, the underworld, and in honoring it by allowing it to be its own entity there instead of trying to make it come alive in our ordinary world of thinking.

    Hillman’s goal, as was Jung’s, is to get ever closer to the characters and activity in the dream realm, but as opposed to Jung who then turned to amplification in order to find meaning and interpretation at the level of the waking ego, Hillman chooses not to bring the dream element back into waking life and force it to match up with symbols or meanings we already hold. In fact, Hillman claims that to bring the dream out of the underworld actually betrays the dream. Hillman advocates finding wordplays, asking questions of the objects themselves, and then allowing them to live out their own soul-like existence without comparison or contrast to external references. He chides us in our desire to analyze, our wish to know, and speaks of “letting our desire die away into its images (p. 201).

    I find Hillman’s technique enjoyable and rewarding as an activity, like reading a good book or watching a movie with a plot and characters that take place in front of your eyes. It is mentally stimulating, interesting, creative, and even insightful on its own terms. However, as a thinking/intuitive type, analysis and interpretation come as naturally as breathing to me, and I simply can’t conceive of doing dream work without some aspect of interpretation. If I truly believe that the unconscious is trying to communicate through dreams, and that there is a message in store that can help lead to my individuation, I must also adopt some of Jung’s (and many others) methods, in order to draw some conclusions. Otherwise, I simply recognize events or aspects of my life much later and don’t benefit from the learning aspect of my dreams as Jung purported.

    Jung stresses the value of compensation in dreams, describing it as a means of “balancing and comparing different data or points of view so as to produce an adjustment or a rectification” (1960, p. 75). Robert Sardello (1995) sums up Hillman’s approach as metaphorical as contrasted to Jung’s approach, which is symbolic. However, he reminds us, “dreams are not metaphors for something else, but a different reality, a metaphorical reality” (p. 110). Robert Hoss (2005) claims compensation appears “in order to reveal misconceptions and inappropriate myths that have bound us in conflict, to provide an alternative path or reversal in our thinking about the dream, and to lead us in the direction of transformation and release” (p. 115). 

    Though Jung believed virtually every dream was compensatory, Hillman dismisses the compensation theory because, according to him, dreams are made partial, one-sided and imbalanced and therefore require the dreamer to turn to the dayworld aspects of ego to find the missing elements in order to find meaning (1979).

    Jung asserts, “A dream…is a product of the total psyche. Hence, we may expect to find in dreams everything that has ever been of significance in the life of humanity” (1960, p. 65). Here, Jung refers to the archetypal quality of dreams, the idea that universal patterns, which are the building blocks of the collective unconscious, also make up our dreams. Robert Johnson insists “we incarnate the archetypes with our physical lives” (p. 62) and that we must research mythology and seek to understand the characteristics of the archetype, once identified, in order to understand its role in our lives. The archetypal aspect must be connected to a personal perspective or it is pointless, Johnson goes on, because “every symbol in your dream has a special, individual connotation that belongs to you alone…even when a symbol has a collective or universal meaning, it still has a personal coloration for you and can be fully explained only from within you” (p. 63).

    Regardless of which dream method you adopt, there is usually not one “right” translation. Dreams hold knowledge and insight for us on many levels—often at the same time. If you’re interested in dreams, be sure to check out a free upcoming teleseminar on dreams by Jungian analyst Dr. Michael Conforti, whose methods adhere closely to Jung’s and who has been working with dreams for more than three decades. Details for the upcoming/archived teleseminar can be found here undefinedand don’t hesitate to look for depth practitioners here on DepthPsychologyList.com who offer dreamwork as well.


    Bonnie Bright is the founder of Depth Psychology Alliance, the world's first comprehensive online community for depth psychology, and hosts a podcast, Depth Insights, as well as editing the semi-annual scholarly e-zine of the same name. She recently founded www.DepthPsychologyList.com, a free online database to find or list depth psychology oriented therapists and practitioners. She holds Masters degrees in Psychology and Depth Psychology, and is a Ph.D. candidate at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara, CA. Follow her on Twitter @bonniebright5 or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/BonnieBright.DepthPsych

     

    Some References

    Hillman, J. (1979). The dream and the underworld. New York: Harper & Row.

    Hoss, R. J. (2005). Dream language: Self-understanding through image and color. Ashland, OR: Innersource.net.

    Johnson, R. A. (1986). Inner work: Using dreams & active imagination for personal growth. San Francisco: HarperCollins.

    Jung, C. G. (1960). Dreams (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.). New York: Routledge.

    Sardello, R. (1995). Love and the soul: Creating a future for earth. New York: HarperCollins.

  • 16 Apr 2013 8:09 AM | Silvia Behrend
    Dreamer at the Garden ~  by Silvia Behrend, Ph.D.

    I am a member of a collective garden, where about 20 of us work together to grow food, educate ourselves on sustainability, practice organic farming methods and generally have a good time. We have weekly work parties and also opportunities for solitary work. I have spent many hours observing nature and what she has to teach me about archetypal patterns. I have learned to look through the eyes of a pattern analyst.

    At an early spring work party I saw one of our members broadcasting seeds over a bed and thought that this was the expression of the archetypal field of cultivation. This was the expression of the development of consciousness, no longer reliant on mere opportunism for gathering food, cultivating requires conscious engagement and knowledge of the processes of growth, maturation and harvest to ensure survival.

    Except I was wrong. This person had used all the seeds for the entire season on one half bed. What would grow in this spot would be a cacophony of differing greens, salads, chard, basil, arugula, all competing for space, nutrients and attention. Instead of careful planning, timely planting and harvesting, this would be a short lived harvest.

    Of course nothing terrible happened. We bought more seed to plant as planned and we will watch and see what happens in this bed, harvest and eat the tender young shoots and wonder what they might be. It will be an experiment and a reminder that if you don’t know what you are doing, just ask someone.

    I realized, however, that what I thought I saw being revealed was not what was being told. Following my training, I looked at this as though it were a dream. I so, what would this dream image be telling me about the dreamer? I really understood what I have been studying for some time about fields and dreams. That is, a field can only be expressed through form and form shows us what the field is. As Dr. Conforti has said many times, “every story has a picture and every picture has a story”.

    I will leave it to the reader to formulate thoughts about what is being revealed by this image. But for me, the most pertinent learning was about the nature of the reality of the psyche and its relationship to matter, that is, us. What I witnessed in the outer world, when seen as a dream revealed the field in which this person was embedded. This is the discipline that looks at all behavior as the explication of a field or archetypal pattern. We are all unconsciously expressing our inner life, complexes, blind spots and it is our great task to bring them to consciousness.

    The theory is proven by the lived experience. I can look at how I move through the world, how I show up at the garden, in my office, in the kitchen as though it were a dream. What would that reveal to me about my life now? If I am driving down the street and realize that I am not paying attention, where am I going unconscious about how I navigate the world? If I dream I am driving and not paying attention, is it not revealing the same issue. I was reminded of what

    Jung wrote in Memories, Dreams and Reflections, “our unconscious existence is the real one and our conscious world a kind of illusion, an apparent reality constructed for a specific purpose, like a dream which seems a reality as long as we are in it. (Jung, p. 324).

    Jorge Luis Borges poignantly expresses the human relationship to Psyche the short story: The Circular Ruins. In the story, the old man is tasked with creating a man through his dreams. Over time, he dreams a man who becomes a wise man in another village. The only element which knows the true nature of the man is Fire. One night, a great fire consumes the village and the man is bereft that his creation will know that he is an ephemera because the fire will not consume him. This is the ending of the story:

    “First (after a long drought) a remote cloud, as light as a bird, appeared on a hill; then, toward the South, the sky took on the rose color of leopard's gums; then came clouds of smoke which rusted the metal of the nights; afterwards came the panic-stricken flight of wild animals. For what had happened many centuries before was repeating itself. The ruins of the sanctuary of the god of Fire was destroyed by fire. In a dawn without birds, the wizard saw the concentric fire licking the walls. For a moment, he thought of taking refuge in the water, but then he understood that death was coming to crown his old age and absolve him from his labors. He walked toward the sheets of flame. They did not bite his flesh, they caressed him and flooded him without heat or combustion. With relief, with humiliation, with terror, he understood that he also was an illusion, that someone else was dreaming him.” (http://www.acsu.buffalo.edu/~jatill/175/CircularRuins.htm)

    What I understood from my work in the garden and as a pattern analyst is that whether we are the dreamers or the dreamt ones, we still have work to do. The earth awaits our seed, the time for harvest will come.


    References

    Jung, C. G (1961). Memories, Dream, Reflections. New York: Random House.
  • 10 Apr 2013 4:55 AM | Bonnie Bright (Administrator)

    Healing Our Divides by Tending Our Creative FireJean Raffa PhD
    By Jean Benedict Raffa, Ed.D.                                                                                                                                            

    When I started my first psychological book in the fall of 1989, I was near the end of a time of intense struggle with some painful inner conflicts. I had recently discovered Jungian psychology, and with it, my passions for writing and self-discovery. Thrilled to have an outlet for my uncomfortable inner life at last, I began writing a series of memoir-type essays in which I searched for meaning in some of my most puzzling experiences. Essentially, I was re-mything my life from a Jungian perspective.

    I’d been working on my dreams for over a year, so I was delighted when they began providing material that often inspired the next day's work.  Then one morning six months into this project I was sitting in front of my make-up mirror when a fairy tale wove its way into my awareness in a spontaneous session of active imagination. (I love the symbolism of the mirror which prompts reflection!) With a sudden insight I realized this story provided the plot, theme, and guiding metaphors for my emerging book! So it became the first chapter. A year later I sent a proposal and sample chapters to a few publishers. Guided by a hint from a dream and a suggestion from Jungian analyst and author Karen Signell, I sent one proposal to LuraMedia in San Diego, California. Within days, Lura Geiger called and told me she wanted it, and in 1992, my new creation, The Bridge to Wholeness:  A Feminine Alternative to the Hero Myth, was born!

    My next book underwent a very different gestation. After Bridge was published I wanted to write a book that would help others understand their dreams. By then I had recorded almost four years of dreams and associations to their symbols, so it only took a few months to select, edit and compile them. The resulting book, Dream Theatres of the Soul: Empowering the Feminine Through Jungian Dream Work, addressed dreams about the ego, persona, shadow, animus and Self.

    Encouraged by these successes and curious about some new awarenesses, my next project was a book about symbols of the Sacred Feminine. Fifteen years later, that book and four others existed only in my computer. I hadn’t found a publisher for any of them, but by then I had complete trust in my creative process, so I started another book! After three more years I had a new manuscript with a new focus that assimilated elements of the other five. Larson Publications launched Healing the Sacred Divide: Making Peace with Ourselves, Each Other, and the World in the summer of 2012.

    I share these details to illustrate how our creativity is fueled by our explorations into our unconscious depths. This is true regardless of our artistic genre or medium. Since 1989 I‘ve tended my inner fire with Jungian studies, dream work, writing, self-reflection and active imagination on a regular basis. I do this partly because I want to understand myself and share what I’ve learned about the inner journey. But I also do it for the inherent rewards: the healing insights, the growth, the sheer pleasure of it. It’s like raising a child. You start out by working hard at it because you must; but in the process you grow, change, and learn to love. And when your child finally enters the world on its own, it carries your transformed heart, psyche and soul with it.

    Tending our creative fire also heals our relationships. Likewise, the focus of my books has broadened from learning to understand and love myself, to appreciating the differences in my loved ones and my culture, to accepting the various archetypal patterns that run through all humanity. This way of thinking has informed Healing the Sacred Divide, which to me feels like everyone’s story. I’d like to explain what I mean.

    We are becoming increasingly polarized around divisive issues of faith, gender, cultural differences and politics. The blame for this does not rest with any one group, but with our own dualistic thinking. As long as we persist in assigning labels of ”good” and “bad” to pairs of opposites, whether male/female, me/you, human/divine, my religion/your religion, or our nation/their nation, we will perpetuate the problem.

    Dualistic thinking is typical of our millennia-old epoch of Ego Consciousness. While this was an evolutionary step forward from the earlier epoch of Physical Consciousness we shared with other mammals, it no longer serves humanity’s best interests.  Fortunately, with the help of depth psychology, the truths of the ancient admonitions to “Know Thyself” and “To Thine Own Self Be True” are entering collective consciousness in a big way. We’re getting it that understanding and uniting our inner opposites helps us understand and accept otherness. And we’re learning that the way to heal our divides is to tend our own creative fire.

    A new epoch of integrated consciousness awaits. It is symbolized by a mandorla, the almond-shaped space of holy transformation formed by two overlapping circles. Like the mandorla, our creative imagination unites the opposites of body and spirit, human and divine. As we tend this fire, we midwife Mandorla Consciousness in ourselves and contribute to healing the divides between individuals and cultures. Because this radical middle way is not based on cultural beliefs but on personal experience, it is open to all regardless of religion. As such, I believe tending our creative fire is the holy work of our time and the path to acceptance of ourselves and each other.


    Visit the website of Jean Raffa PhDJean Raffa is an author, speaker and workshop leader. Her newest book, Healing the Sacred Divide: Making Peace With Ourselves, Each Other, and the World, is about psychological integration as a spiritual path to evolving consciousness. It recently received the 2013 Wilbur Award from the Religion Communicators Council for excellence in communicating religious issues, values and themes, and for encouraging understanding between faith groups on a national level. http://www.religioncommunicators.org/wilbur-awards You can find more about Jean’s books at her website, www.jeanraffa.com. Matrignosis, her blog about inner wisdom, is at www.jeanraffa.wordpress.com.

  • 04 Apr 2013 8:49 AM | Silvia Behrend

    Surprised by God at my Table

    For the past twenty five years, my ex-Catholic husband and I have celebrated the Passover with a Seder, the ritual telling of the story of Exodus which is accompanied by special food, wine and story.  I have presided at Seders with five people and with over 150 people.  I have sat next to the very old and the very young, but I have never sat next to God.  Or rather, God never revealed Godself to me.

    It wasn’t an apotheosis, there were no rays of light or angels singing, no drama or bells or whistles.  What happened was simple, profound and mysterious.  I looked around our table of eight adults and realized that this was the first time in all these years that there were no children present.  At that moment, the tears flowed from a deep well of sadness and I was aware of the presence of a deep and powerful mystery.  As Marie Louise von Franz says in the Way of the Dream:  “God is that which sweeps us off our feet, overwhelms, inspires reverence, awe, fear and a sense of something greater than ourselves”.

    What I understood is that the story of Exodus is a living reality in our souls.  It is an archetypal movement from the ego’s slavery to complexes and collective values that kill the soul to liberation through pain, suffering and exile.  This is when the God sat at my table, when I realized that this mysterious journey of the soul has to be told to us over and over again, starting when we are children.  We need to know from the beginning of our growing awareness that life is cruel, unjust and difficult.  We need to know that there is oppression and evil in the world that is out to destroy us.  And, we need to know that there is a way out of oppression into a new land of milk and honey, the way is hard, yes, but it is known and we are in good company.   

    While the children may not understand the profundity of the story during the first part of life, the repetition and the rituals prepare the way for the task of the second part.  What we understand later in life, is that the oppression is internal, the complexes are our Egypt, the slave masters that bind us to impossible tasks in their possession.  To leave Egypt is to leave the world behind and enter into the desert exile, and endure suffering in our encounter with the God. 

    James Hollis, in his lecture at the Assisi Institutes’ In Search of Soul and Spirit seminars, reminded us that the task of the second part of life is to find our personal authority in relationship to that which is greater than ourselves (April 1, 2013).   His description of the process of coming to a more mature spirituality mirrors the Exodus story.  We get stuck by the archaic fears of our childhood, the complexes that keep us frozen and sabotage the ego’s forward movement.  To become a mature adult, to find our souls, we must go through the desert to get to other side.  There we reclaim our selves, finding greater courage, resilience and strength, we learn that by facing our fears we can be guided by the dust storm during the day and the pillar of fire at night.  We are not alone, there is a greater force that can guide us if only we take the first step out of bondage.

     

  • 29 Mar 2013 4:10 AM | Bonnie Bright (Administrator)

    Some would argue our contemporary consumer-based, productivity-oriented culture contributes to a collective loss of memory—done of being connected to something larger than our everyday selves. As a society, we have become dislocated in time and disconnected from place, leaving us rootless, transient, and opting for sensationalism instead of spirituality; superficiality instead of soul. So much of this malady is due to our disconnect from nature, our bodies, and earth itself. We are no longer grounded in something real that gives us context to understand how our lives play out in a fabric of being, a pattern in living nature with a self-organizing intelligence of its own. As Jung put it, 

    “Man feels isolated in the cosmos. He is no longer involved in nature and has lost his emotional participation in natural events, which hitherto had symbolic meaning for him. Thunder is no longer the voice of a god, nor is lightning his avenging missile. No river contains a spirit, no tree makes a man's life, no snake is the embodiment of wisdom and no mountain still harbours a great demon. Neither do things speak to him nor can he speak to things, like stones, springs, plants and animals" (in Sabini, 2005, p. 79-80).

    Blood and memory play a significant role in the ongoing spiritual relationship between the indigenous ancestors and their Native American descendants according to Native American literary scholar Robin Riley Fast, who has written about the work of contemporary Navajo poet Luci Tapahonso. Tapahonso insists, “The land that may appear arid and forlorn to the newcomer is full of stories which hold the spirits of the people, those who live here today and those who lived centuries and other worlds ago” (in Fast, 2007, p. 203). Each cliff formation, each watering hole, every boulder or ancient tree had a story that rooted it in the landscape and in the people’s psyche. Native American writer Leslie Marmon Silko asserts that stories were often triggered as people passed by a specific landmark or exact place where a story took place (in Halpern, 1987).

    So many memories-turned-stories speak of suffering and separation from place. During what is known as “The Long Walk,” the Navajo were tragically displaced during a forced march of the Navajo people after Kit Carson initiated a path of destruction in 1864, burning their homes and crops, stealing their livestock, and forcing them into a state of starvation and surrender. Many of the more than 8500 Navajo forced to march to Fort Sumner, several hundred miles away, died on the walk. Those that did not die from illness, freeze, starve, or get shot by soldiers, were likely drowned while forced at gunpoint to cross the raging Rio Grande river where they were washed away. The poetry of Luci Tapahonso illustrates the stories of the horrors of the forced march, speaking to the murder of pregnant women and the purposeful drowning of elders and children, or of those who were too tired or too sick to travel (in Fast, 2007).

    Loss of place and of connection with the land results in profound loss to the collective memory of a people or culture, disorienting them and obliterating their identity. Living in a new place meant a loss of story since there was no memory attached to the landscape around. One might argue that the loss of place at the hands of the white men affected the Navajo forever. “What good is memory if this place does not recognize me?” (p. 203) asks Tapahonso.

    Glen Albrecht, professor of philosophy and sustainability, points to a kind of “place pathology.” When you separate people from their land he suggests, “they feel the loss of heart’s ease as a kind of vertigo, a disintegration of their whole life” (in Smith, 2010, para. 4). Jungian analyst Jerome Bernstein (2005) points out that when the Navajos were displaced by the Europeans, many of the Navajo simply disappeared. They no longer knew who or where they were. The disorientation initiated by loss of ancestors and memory, of being located in a larger web of meaning, is profound and virtually irreversible. Estrangement from land results in uncanniness, the feeling of not being at home. Thus, to be without place translates to not existing at all. In fact, the Navajo called their land “the Great Self” (Casey, 2009), evoking the idea that separation from place literally results in a separation from self.

    Perhaps it is the lack of relationship with the new land and lack of mourning for their own loss of home among the newly-arrived Europeans that initiated a wave of destruction and despair amidst the First Peoples of the so-called New World. Yet, through listening with all our senses, through being fully present, through allowing the living story that is unfolding at every moment in the place where we are to engulf us, we can each begin to reconnect. In her poetry, Tapahonso examines the sense of alienation wrought upon the Navajo which evokes a sense of homesickness for the readers of her work, blossoming into a true feeling of emotional and literal exile as one makes their way through her words. Through Tapahonso’s own perception and the visceral reaction it evokes, it is possible to recoup a shadow of the loss the Navajo have suffered.

    Yet, in a poem entitled, “Starlore,” Tapahonso introduces hope, reassuring us that healing ceremony can “restore the world for us” (p. 204). Healing ceremony often includes a narrative, and locating ourselves in the story so that the mythical implications can work on us. In An Unspoken Hunger: Stories from the Field, eco-writer TerryTempest Williams echoes this notion, saying “We are healed by our stories (1994, p. 57). Reconnection to land where-ever we are—land that holds stories both ancient and new—can provide us with a sense of homecoming and healing if we slow ourselves, ground our feet on the earth, open our hearts and our senses, and simply listen to its tale. In this way we may re-member wholeness that somehow slipped from memory in our fast-paced and forgotten hours.

    (Note: Parts of this post have been excerpted from my essay, "The Power of Story and Place among the Navajo in Canyon de Chelly" published in Depth Insights scholarly eZine, Fall 2011.

    Bonnie Bright is the founder of Depth Psychology Alliance, the world's first comprehensive online community for depth psychology, and hosts a podcast, Depth Insights, as well as editing the semi-annual scholarly e-zine of the same name. She recently founded www.DepthPsychologyList.com, a free online database to find or list depth psychology oriented therapists and practitioners. She holds Masters degrees in Psychology and Depth Psychology, and is a Ph.D. candidate at Pacifica Graduate Institute in Santa Barbara, CA. Follow her on Twitter @bonniebright5 or on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/BonnieBright.DepthPsych


    Some References

    Bernstein, J. (2005). Living in the borderland: The evolution of consciousness and the challenge of healing trauma. New York: Routledge.

    Casey, E. S. (2009). Getting back into place: Toward a renewed understanding of the place-world (2nd ed.). Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press.

    Fast, R. R. (2007). The land is full of stories: Navajo stories in the work of Luci Tapahonso. Boston, MA: Routledge: Taylor & Francis Group.

    Halpern, D. (Ed.). (1987). On Nature: Nature, landscape, and natural history. San Francisco, CA: North Point Press.

    Sabini, M. (2005). The Earth has a Soul: The Nature Writings of C.G. Jung

    Sandner, D. (1991). Navaho symbols of healing:  Jungian exploration of ritual, image, and medicine. Rochester, Vt.: Healing Arts Press.

    Smith, D. B. (2010, January 27). Is there an ecological unconscious?, The New York Times Sunday Magazine, p. 36.

    Tapahonso, L. (1997). Blue horses rush in. Tucson, AZ: University of Arizona Press.

    Tempest Williams, T. (1994). An unspoken hunger: Stories from the field. New York: Pantheon Books.

  • 24 Mar 2013 12:34 PM | Kim Hermanson, PhD
    When I started teaching professionally, I was faced with a dilemma: Present information in the conventional manner and try to look and act the part of “The Expert,” or on the other hand, honor the inspiration of my own unique creative process. I tried my best to do the first option and it didn't fit me at all. I can't follow a schedule no matter how hard I try, and I spend way too much time musing about odd things when I should be working. My mind and heart do not operate on a linear path, and frankly, doing things in a prescribed way is just not interesting to me.

    Developing the ability to simultaneously be “Teacher” and “Authentically Me” has been a path of challenge and growth, and my teaching work became a practice of showing up and walking my talk. I ultimately wrote a book to help guide me through the rapids. Getting Messy: A Guide to Taking Risks and Opening the Imagination gave me a way to understand how to play and work as a creative person in a traditional service profession. My intent was to know what boundaries and edges I could cross with my students so that they would be comfortable, yet challenged and inspired by what I knew I could offer them.

    In case you’re wondering, “messy” doesn’t mean literal mess. (I’m actually a neatnik.) Messy means plunging into the unknown--befriending things and people that don’t follow established rules, navigating through confusion and perplexity. Contrary to sane reasoning, I feel most alive when I’m in situations where I don’t know what I’m doing. Perplexing situations give my rational mind an opportunity to “get lost,” which in turn opens space for something more imaginative to come through. When I’m confused or don’t see a clear path, I get to rely on something greater than myself. That’s when I feel most alive.

    Getting Messy offers those of us in service professions a way to stay in the juice, inspiration, and “messy muck” (for lack of a better word) and still hold the title of “teacher” (or counselor, coach, therapist, mentor, manager.) But after I finished it a funny thing happened. I realized that Getting Messy wasn’t just for teachers. It’s for anyone who wants to live an interesting, creative life. From the responses I've received, it takes people to places they haven't been before and offers a warm foundation to support and inspire creative journeys. It offers sanity in the face of new possibilities.

    As teachers, mentors, coaches, counselors, and trainers what we point to is more important than what we actually say. Good teaching is not about "look at me"; it's about "look beyond me." ... Thank goodness.

    Kim Hermanson, PhD is on the faculty of Pacifica Graduate Institute and leads workshops at Esalen Institute. Her books include Getting Messy: A Guide to Taking Risks and Opening the Imagination and Sky’s the Limit: The Art of Nancy Dunlop Cawdrey, which received an Independent Publisher Award. She facilitates creative breakthroughs for individuals in her Doorway Sessions. 


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