Hugh Barton, LMFT

Mindfulness Jungian Psychotherapy

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What Is Happening To Me? A Midlife Primer

November 22, 2016 by unkahoo@me.com

janus_1

Midway through the journey of our life, I found
myself in a dark wood, for I had strayed
from the straight pathway to this tangled ground.
How hard it is to tell of, overlaid
with harsh and savage growth, so wild and raw
the thought of it still makes me feel afraid.
Death scarce could be more bitter..
.
Just how I entered there I could not say.1

Midlife is a phase of development as natural as the change of seasons. At this time of life Nature has built into us a drive towards becoming the person we were always meant to be. To this end, we find ourselves longing to lead a more meaningful and soulful life, to find a vocation that speaks to the heart, to complete unfinished business from childhood, re-assess our core values, deepen relationships, and forge a new sense of self.

As this process begins we find ourselves stranded between who we were and who we are to become. We experience angst and confusion as in no other time in our lives. We not only find ourselves in “this tangled ground,” but trying to make our way through it is downright maddening.

Understandable. We have worked so long to know and define who and what we are. Our resistance to being changed is strong. We don’t want to acknowledge or accept that we are in the midst of some kind of un-asked-for inner renovation.

What makes this undertaking even harder is that the people closest to us seldom understand the depths of our suffering. On a collective scale it is poorly understood by our externally focused and wildly extroverted American culture. Since few seem to understand and appreciate the inner fortitude needed to navigate this journey I wanted to share my hit on what happens, why, and where it leads. Make no mistake- this is mighty work. And is best undertaken with a trusted ally, someone who has traveled the paths, and knows the way through.

“Nature seems to have built into organisms an innate
healthy-mindedness; it expresses itself in self-delight,
in the pleasure of unfolding one’s capacity into the world,
in the incorporation of things in that world.”
2

It may be helpful to briefly review what we’ve gone through to make it to midlife. Birth to about age 35 is mainly driven by character formation. In childhood our prime instinct is to survive. Nature has installed in us a variety of behaviors to insure that we bond with our caregivers so that we are safe. The degree to which we develop a secure attachment with them is the degree to which we can live with a sense of inner trust. We can then engage with physical world reality full of hope, faith, and competence. And we can bring the same level of self-assurance to our emerging creative life.

Adolescence is a shakier but equally important time for character formation. It brings the sexual drive and puts us in direct contact with our creatureliness as sexual beings (with all of the relational challenges that poses). It also brings intense glimpses into personal potentials, collective idealism, and an instinctive need to belong to a group that shares these ideals. If enough mirroring and social acceptance happens we might get to enjoy a high level of self-esteem (how one feels in relation to others) and self-confidence (how one feels about oneself).

But more than anything, this is a time when profound questions are generated from deep within our hearts, questions that return at midlife. Examples are how am I unique? How do I cultivate this? Give it shape? What gifts do I carry for the world? What should I expect back from it? How can I live into this uniqueness with the full force of my mind, body, heart and soul? How might it bring meaning both to my life and to those around me?

In adulthood these adolescent potentialities and dreams can get buried beneath wider collective social demands. We get swept up in running with the herd- pulling one’s weight in the world through a career, the starting of a shared life that may include marriage, children, preschools, PTA meetings, managing in-laws, owning property, saving for the future.

So the overall work of the first half of life is developing a strong ego, built from the feedback we get from those around us in response to everything we do. If all goes well, and often it does not, we develop confidence in knowing we are lovable, capable, grounded in reality, can trust others, and that our self-definitions are clear and firm.

“When the world defeats the ego, the soul can float;
then fantasy and imagination…have a chance
to enter the scene and be noticed.”
3

But somewhere between ages 35 and 50 this begins to change. There is a feeling of losing our way, being unmoored from reality, of questioning our sense of self. The “self-delight” of engaging with the outer world loses its charm. The life force, once directed outward, introverts. I like to use the analogy of the tides. In the first half of life we are like the ocean wave that enjoys the sheer energy it contains to surge forward, scooping up everything it encounters and incorporating it. In midlife the wave has landed ashore, but before it returns to its own depths there is a period of inertia- a slack tide. The midlife space in which we find ourselves feels like slack tide, like one is living in limbo. Floating. Directionless.

This floating feeling is extremely unsettling. As Murray Stein writes, “a person seems to stand perpetually at some inner crossroads, confused and torn.”4 In my clinical work, as well as my own midlife crossing, new types of thoughts and emotions arise at this time. They can signal the start of the midlife transformational process. Some are on the manic side; unpredictable moodiness, impulsivity, new and unusual sexual energy and fantasies, a myopic focus on a hobby, out-of-the blue fits of anger or frustration, and a susceptibility to critical comments by others that leads to self-doubt. Some are on the depressive side; a sense of being disconnected from other people, a lack of energy, overwhelm with simple everyday tasks, sadness at the loss of youthful physical vitality, hopelessness that leads to a desire to isolate oneself, thoughts of being a fraud, confusion about your role in relationships, loss of understanding the nuances in social situations, boredom, and dullness of thought.

This experiential intensity shakes us up. We start to realize that something inside is different, more problematic. Questions get generated similar to those in adolescence. Who am I really? Why am I here? “What is my true calling? Where is my true Self? What is happening to me?” (“This is not my beautiful house/This is not my beautiful wife”5 ).

To be clear- by “I” and “me” I mean ego- the conscious personality, built up, bit by bit, by the thoughts we think, the emotions we feel, the sensations we endure, the possibilities we intuit, and the memories we store. By Self I mean the as-yet-to-be-discovered center of an unlimited and indefinable total psychic reality, or soul, which contains the ego.

“Without noticing it, the conscious personality is pushed
about like a figure on a chessboard by an invisible player.
It is this player who decides the game of fate,
not the conscious mind and its plans.”6

As this process unfolds the Self throws up forces within the personality that work in opposing directions at the same time. One direction is regressive and works to resolve first-half-of-life issues; to “work-through” some of the tasks that were left unfinished. The trick here is to do it consciously. As James Hollis writes, “those who travel the passage consciously render their lives more meaningful.”7

We can tell that regression is happening when we notice things like a heightened need to be felt, seen, and heard by another- to be nurtured in ways our mothers never could. Other experiences may include being driven to take up activities we did when we were teenagers, sexual fantasies involving older people, an emotional tug at the heart to re-connect with family and friends, and jumping into new activities that promise excitement without stopping to consider the consequences. We may also experience new kinds of dreams. These can include being physically held or supported by an older/wiser person, images of token animals, or a return to our childhood home.

The developmental tasks calling to be worked through can include wanting to feel securely attached to another, developing better boundaries with others, resolving narcissistic wounds, and finding peace from early traumas. It is a great time to gain insight into the defenses we use to keep us from living honestly and courageously. This last one is vital yet tricky, since defense mechanisms, like denial, repression, etc., are unconscious. Therapists can be valuable allies for this work.

The other direction is progressive and works to connect us with a new form of life-giving energy that is not generated by the conscious personality. It starts as a tiny glimmer of something unnamed in our heart, as a twinge of intuition about something transpersonal awakening inside of us. If we are able to bring awareness to these dim experiences then we begin to have a sense of something soulful arising. C.G. Jung used the term religio to signify this natural movement of the Soul to re-inspect one’s life and connect with a richer and expansive transpersonal experience.

We can tell that this progression is happening when we start to notice a sense of being connected to something bigger than oneself, a new curiosity about a religion or spiritual practice, a novel feeling of kinship with many people and greater tolerance for any differences, paring down the focus of work, interests, and hobbies to things that feel meaningful. We may take less interest in other people’s views because we are working on nurturing our own. We also have thoughts that the talents we possess were not made by us but have been given to us; we find ourselves saying “I don’t know” more often; dreams emerge with themes of ancient civilizations, figures of the gender opposite our own, scenes of expansive vistas/horizons, religious imagery, and many more. Therapists trained in the Analytic (Jungian) tradition can be extremely valuable allies in helping to facilitate the budding Ego/Self relationship.

“Man will be forced to develop his feminine side,
to open his eyes to the psyche and to Eros.
It is a task he cannot avoid.”
8

Men seem to suffer at midlife more acutely than women. Because, in general, they are less attuned to their inner world. Men are less discerning about their feelings and emotions. In addition, they tend to suffer this midlife change in isolation, which makes things even harder for them. Women seem to be much better at feeling connected to their inner processes as they happen in real time, and are more apt to reach out to others. Many women live fundamentally from a place of Eros (the ability to share empathic attunement and physical relatedness), something men are in need of learning.

What Nature seems to provide at midlife is the opportunity to balance out the personality. We develop inner qualities that were not central to the developmental needs in the first half of life. For men these are new “feminine” qualities, including empathy, humility, compassion, relatedness (as Eros), caring, patience, balance, and sincerity.

For women experiencing midlife woes, cultivating Eros seems to focus on social differentiation. This may include making boundaries with others (so that a clearly defined and independent “I” is relating with others on equal terms), redefining the relationship with one’s parents, children, or mate, an interest in belonging to a women’s group, renewed attention on physical health, and an attraction toward mastering a meaningful new vocation, skill, talent, or cause.

“The telling question of a person’s life is their relationship to the infinite.”9

So where is all this leading? The genuine work of midlife is more than re-balancing the personality, more than getting comfortable with the floating. It is noticing that our sense of self is changing profoundly. The vital lie of the character we erected in the first half of life becomes threadbare, and through the holes we get glimpses of a transcendent presence within.10

Here is the inner gold we have been struggling to find in the course of the midlife journey. We begin to notice a new inner light. It carries new knowledge and an unshakable sense of self that is bigger than the narrow confines of the ego. We soon discover that this new experience is self-shining, spontaneously present, deeply soulful.

Awareness of this inner presence allows us to witness all the thoughts, emotions, and somatic experiences as they arise without being blindsided by them or giving in to them and acting out. By tasting this new soul-filled center we start to feel connected to all beings, and our relationships begin taking on compassion and love. It is from this place that we find answers to our most important fundamental questions. If we know how to listen.

Over time what emerges is the capacity to better host ambiguity, paradox, and mystery in Nature, in others, and most importantly, in ourselves. We develop patience with not knowing. We become better attuned to inner experiences, including our ever-changing moods, thoughts, sensations, perceptions, and intuitions. With enough conscious attention to the struggles of midlife we arrive at the Self-  the limitless center to which we experience an effortless union and from which we derive new personal meanings.

References

1Alighieri, D. (2002). Inferno (M. Palma, Trans.) New York, NY: Norton

2Becker, E. (1973). The Denial Of Death. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster

3Stein, M. (1983). In Midlife. Putnam, CT: Spring Publications

4Ibid.

5Byrne, D. et al. (1983). Burning Down The House (Recorded by Talking Heads). On Speaking In Tongues. New York, NY: Sire

6Jung, C. G. (1966). The persona as a segment of the collective psyche. In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.) (Vol. 7, p. 161). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

7Hollis, J. (1993). The Middle Passage. Toronto, Canada: University Of Toronto Press

8Jung, C. G. (1964). Women in Europe. In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.) (Vol. 10, p. 125). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

 9Jung, C.G. (1933) Modern man in search of a soul. New York, NY: Houghton Mifflin

10Becker, The Denial of Death

 

 

 

 

Filed Under: Category #1 Tagged With: Individuation, Jungian, midlife crisis, Psychotherapy, spiritual psychology

The Power Of “I Don’t Know”

October 24, 2016 by unkahoo@me.com

homer_5

An unforgettable moment: sitting with my uncle Sidney when I was a teenager, the Sidney that was my family’s Aristotle, asking him for an answer as to why I was struggling with a girlfriend. And his answer, which exploded my fantasies about adults, was a simple, quiet, and humble “I don’t know.”

If you are like me you grew up around adults that postured themselves to always be the ones who knew, and never admitted when they didn’t. The result was a painfully shame-laden gap between my inner world of ambiguity, paradox, and fear, and their world of seeming certainty, clarity, and mastery.

As I began to take my place in the workforce I encountered bosses who took the same stance. And under the influence of these mentoring models I too became one who knows, one forbidden to host and admit uncertainty to others.

It was lonely.

Then, after launching a start-up music company, I watched in admiration as my business partner, Sean Holt, employed “I don’t know” as an honest and effective intervention with our composers and sound designers: it was an invitation for them to participate in the process of looking for their own unique creative solutions.

Now, as a psychotherapist, where healing happens through the openness and transparency of a genuine and empathic human relationship, “I don’t know” moments occur all the time. Over the past 9 years I’ve observed that when I can meet a patient in his or her uncertainty by being genuine and admitting that I, too, do not know, meaningful things happen. We become equals, fellow travelers, two creatures facing the vast unknown together. A patient’s inner sense of safety emerges. They feel heard, understood, valued, and necessary. Anxiety lessens. Self-worth increases. We then share a relationship rich in curiosity, acceptance, and authenticity. I need this as much as they do, person-to-person, and think back with gratitude to Sidney’s gift, the power of “I don’t know.”

Inspired from a talk given by Dr. Steven J. Frank at the C.G Jung Institute of Los Angeles, 2016

 

Filed Under: Category #1 Tagged With: Individuation, Jungian, Psychotherapy, spiritual psychology

Chapter 4: Proteus and Menelaus- Grappling With Transcendent Knowledge

October 21, 2016 by unkahoo@me.com

 

proteus_1_hb_b

It is one thing to hear a goddess’ song from a safe distance the way Odysseus did in the story of the Sirens. But actually wrestling with a god is another matter altogether.

In this story it isn’t Odysseus who wrestles the sea god Proteus. It’s one of Odysseus’ fellow generals in the Trojan war- Menelaus. Towards the beginning of the poem Odysseus’ son, Telemachus, has left home to seek news about his missing father. On his journey he visits Menelaus and Helen (the very same Helen who “launched a thousand ships” and caused the Trojan war). Menelaus doesn’t have any recent news, only what Proteus told him ten years earlier when he left Egypt- that Odysseus was alive but being held captive by Calypso with no hope of return. And it is Menelaus who proceeds to tell this myth;

When Dawn spread out her fingertips of rose
I started, by the sea’s wide level ways,
Praying the gods for help, and took along
Three lads I counted on in any fight.
Meanwhile the neriad Eidothea swam from the lap of Ocean
Laden with four sealskins, new flayed
For the hoax she thought of playing on her father Proteus.
In the sand she scooped out hollows for our bodies
And sat down, waiting. We came close to touch her,
And, bedding us, she threw the sealskins over us-
A strong disguise; oh, yes, terribly strong
As I recall the stench of those damned seals.
Would any man lie snug with a sea monster?
But here the nymph, again, came to our rescue,
Dabbing ambrosia under each man’s nose-
A perfume drowning out the bestial odor.
So there we lay with beating hearts all morning
While seals came shoreward out of ripples, jostling
To take their places, flopping in the sand.
At noon the ancient issued from the sea
And held inspection, counting off the sea-beasts.
We were the first he numbered: he went by,
Detecting nothing. When at last he slept
We gave a battlecry and plunged for him,
Locking our hands behind him. But the old one’s
Tricks were not knocked out of him; far from it.
First he took on a whiskered lion’s shape,
A serpent then; a leopard; a great boar;
Then sousing water; then a tall green tree.
Still we hung on, by hook or crook, through everything.
Until the Ancient saw defeat, and grimly
Opened his lips to ask me:

“Son of Atreus,
Who counseled you to this? A god: what god?
Set a trap for me, overpower me- why?”

He bit it off then, and I answered:
“Old one, you know the reason- why feign not to know?
High and dry so long upon this island
I’m at my wits’ end, and my heart is sore.
You gods know everything: now you can tell me:
Which of the immortals chained me here?
And how will I get home on the fish-cold sea?”

 He made reply at once:

“You should have paid
Honor to Zeus and the other gods, performing
A proper sacrifice before embarking:
That was your short way home on the winedark sea.
You may not see your friends again, your own fine house,
Or enter your own land again,
Unless you first remount the Nile in flood
And pay your hecatomb to the gods of heaven.
Then, and then only,
The gods will grant you the passage you desire.”

One of the things about this myth that is so striking to me is the courage and commitment of Menelaus and the “three lads.” As I view this story as a personal dream then I am all four of these men, and each one plays a different part.

The number four has been associated with modes of consciousness for centuries. In the ancient Greek tradition there are the four Elements- Earth, Air, Fire, and Water (plus a fifth that is sometimes included- Space). At the time of Homer these elements were associated more with physical world reality than with psychological realities. But they did discuss the human character in terms of elemental polarities. Typically they defined one extreme pole as Love and the other, Strife, and there was the recognition of the grey areas in between.

One early Greek philosopher, Empedocles, associated these elemental polarities with a god. Zeus, as the element Air, possesses a character that includes perseverance, inflexibility, realism and pragmatism. The goddess Persephone, associated with Water, spring, and innocence, characterizes a personality that is open and flexible, oriented toward harmony and nurturance. To be like the Earth goddess Hera meant you were prone to stormy rage and jealousy, but also supportive of new life. And if you possess qualities such as intuition, creativity, and self-sufficiency and stillness, you might be associated with Fire and with Hades.

In Buddhism the four elements, known as the Four Noble Truths, are a basis for understanding suffering and for liberating oneself from it. These are 1) To be alive is to suffer, 2) The cause of suffering is attachment to transient things, 3) We can end this suffering through renunciation, 4) There are teachings that enable us to abide as the unchanging essence of what we truly are.

In modern terms we now associate the four ego faculties through C.G. Jung’s definitions- Thinking, Feeling, Sensation, and Intuition. The fifth element, in most traditions called Space, falls outside of ego’s domain. It is the space in which all appearances and possibilities can arise, including man and his localized human experiencing

Jung divided the four ego functions further into the polarities of introversion (directing one’s attention inward toward thoughts, feelings and awareness- Hera and Hades) and extroversion (directing one’s energy outward toward people, actions and external objects- Zeus and Persephone.) When the opposing elements of the ego encounter each other, they might neutralize each other, or they might lead to integration and a deeper sense of Loving and of peace. In this myth Menelaus and his three comrades prevail over Proteus, indicating that the four functions have been integrated and a deeper level of knowing and loving has occurred.

The harmony between Menelaus and his crew mates to subdue Proteus is a beautiful symbol for how to deal with any dilemma.

We can deal with our own inner dilemmas by considering four principles. These are Intention, Surrender, Acceptance, and Forgiveness.

Intention

Throughout The Odyssey the characters ask for what they want. They are very honest and explicit with their requests, whether to the gods, the ogres, or to their fellow man. Having clarity about what we want allows us to work with the energy of the universe. Although this might sound to many as “new-age-y” this is exactly what the characters in The Odyssey do. When requests are made, say, of the gods, these “prayers,” these intentions, are answered. I think it’s Homer’s recognition that our intentions have a power that can manifest what it is for our highest good.

In this myth, Menelaus and the goddess Eidothea work together, and they have three clear intentions. The first is to hang on no matter what happens. As Homer wrote, “we gave a battle cry and plunged for him, locking our hands behind him. But the old one’s tricks were not knocked out of him; far from it. First he took on a whiskered lion’s shape, a serpent then; a leopard; a great boar; then sousing water; then a tall green tree. Still we hung on, by hook or crook, through everything. Until the Ancient saw defeat”. The second is to ask why they have been detained. And the third is to request safe passage home. As we know from the story, all three intentions manifest.

Surrender

When specific intentions are voiced in The Odyssey the results are left up to the individual god or man. The “requestor” stays out of the results. It is a tremendous thing to be able to do. How many of us spend our lives working feverishly to control the results in a desired situation? Most of us do this to a great expense to our relationships. We focus on the details of things and we fail to recognize that we never really do anything alone. If I assert that I alone created the illustrations for this book it’s simply not true. Did I make the brushes I used? The canvass? The paint? Did I make the camera that photographed the canvasses? Did I create the light that let me see it all? Did I build the computer on which I manipulated the images? The list can go on and on. I had hundreds, maybe thousands, of fellow human beings helping me to create this little book. I think the ancients, including Homer, understood the holographic nature of reality, and that Intention and Surrender were tools of humility to help us understand our place within creation.

Acceptance

Menelaus and the men demonstrate another characteristic of a psyche that is integrated- they can accept what is. In order to accept what is we need be free of judgments- of ourselves and of others. For as soon as we judge something we fall into the subtle trap of turning our direct experience of what is into a concept. And the concept, our idea of something, is never the thing itself. It’s like mistaking the map for the territory. An example of how this would work in this story might go something like this. When Menelaus sees Proteus for the first time he could think, “He looks a lot like my father.” This judgment might then proceed along these lines; “Proteus looks like my father, my father used to beat me, I had no power with my father, I’ll have no power with Proteus, I’m going to lose here once again, I’m going back to the ship.”

There is a long list of things that need to be accepted for Menelaus’ intentions to succeed; he must accept his own fear as it arises, he must accept the words of the goddess, he must trust and accept that the other men will not lose heart and let go; he must accept he won’t be eaten by the lion, or drowned by the water, or bitten by the snake, or gored by the boar, or mauled by the leopard, or plunge to death falling from the tree’s height; he must accept that Proteus will give him correct answers to his questions. By accepting what is he is able to honor his ultimate goal- to return home. As we’ve seen in other parts of this book, a return home means recognizing in ourselves the wholeness, integration, and loving that is our natural state.

Forgiveness

Of the four traits Forgiveness may be the most important. While Intention, Surrender, and Acceptance are ways to control our personal inner state, Forgiveness is a recognition that we are in relationship. One characteristic of being in relationship is that we acknowledge our own pain as well as the pain of others. This shared experience, this shared suffering, we call compassion. I think that the reason Menelaus ultimately succeeds in subduing Proteus is not because he has a clear intention, or can surrender to the powers, or can accept what is, but because all three of these things occur while he is sharing the experience with the three lads he “counts on in any fight.” It’s the interpersonal bridge between the four men that ultimately leads to success. When the four aspects of our personality are in harmony, when we experience mastery over them, when they can work as a team, then and only then can we move away from our ego’s narrow definitions of self. When we achieve a high level of integration and psychic harmony we are free to explore what we may be. If we utilize these four skills when our own dilemma arises we may be able to conquer any issue that causes suffering.

Proteus The Shapeshifter

One of our greatest psychological challenges is to know what we are when we’re not thinking about ourselves. For most Westerners we define ourselves by what we think we are. But what are we between thoughts? Can we set aside all thoughts about ourselves and experience directly that aspect of our being that transcends thought? And is it really transcendence or is it simply our naturally free, unobscured condition?

If we continue with the premise that we are all characters in The Odyssey then we are also Proteus. The mythical Proteus is the son of Poseidon and is the herdsmen of seals. He knows the future but will change shape in order to avoid sharing this knowledge with mortals. He will only divulge answers to what he is asked by a person that can contain him. Because of his relationship to the sea, Proteus can be seen to represent our unconscious and the creative energy of the world. To overcome Proteus is to awaken to the recognition that we are the ocean with its potentiality for both wisdom and creativity. So in grappling with Proteus we are working to see beyond the small-minded illusions by which we have been defining ourselves and connect to something transcendent. And his shifting shapes are not “out there” but our own condition changing as we grapple with what we truly are.

One way to consider this part of the myth is to view the shapeshifting as our ego’s strategy to keep us under the control it believes it has. Because before and after the struggle Proteus is just what he is. The wish to contain him and to learn his heart knowledge is what starts the scuffle. As Jung writes,

“If a modern individual for whom god is dead, descends into the darkness of the unconscious, and endures its suffering, allows himself to be guided by the spirit of nature, and accepts the shadow, he may experience a whole new life and be redeemed for his crime through the conscious attitude…a new side of the personality will emerge that has to do with the heart…”

The Forms Proteus Assumes

If we consider each of the forms Proteus changes into we can begin to appreciate some of the challenges we will encounter along the way towards wholeness and integration. As such, the shapes that Proteus assumes are meant as instruction, not as punishment. If Menelaus and his men can hold fast to each of the forms that Proteus becomes, then they will be incorporating the characteristics of each into their experience; they will be expanded and imbued with the characteristics of each form. I think that Homer’s message here is that adopting a learning orientation towards life is the correct view, and by doing this, events that appear to be frightening and negative might be reframed as an opportunity for our expansion and upliftment; the scary encounter becomes the great teacher.

From the psychological point of view each of the forms that Proteus takes is a condition already present somewhere within our psyches. Since Menelaus and his men have to hold on “by hook and by crook” we might consider that the forms are not in direct consciousness, but instead reside within the unconscious archetypal realm.

In the world of dreams the lion could represent the part of our Self that is fierce, wild, and untamable by our cultured personas. It exists outside of our learned behaviors and self-limiting beliefs. To encounter our inner lion is to be in the presence of our own capacity for fierceness. In waking life, in consciousness, we are likely to attempt to hide this aspect of our being. In dreams we are free to explore it.

Lions are never cruel- their actions are purposeful and swift. They act with clarity and immediacy, whether they are hunting, mating, or protecting their pride and territory. Homer doesn’t distinguish male from female lion, but it might be useful here to assume that Menelaus and his men encounter both aspects. The female lioness gives birth, raises the cubs, and hunts for the pride’s food. She is the nurturing aspect, especially of the young. The male lion’s role is as sperm donor and protector. He is the guard of discipline and the preserver of order. To meet the lion within is to bring into consciousness our capacity to live with clarity, fierceness, and purpose.

There are many interpretations for what a Serpent represents, and they carry a great variety of meanings depending on the culture. I will focus on what the snake might mean in The Odyssey and in the world of dreams in the context stated above- as instruction on aspects of the psyche. One major characteristic of snakes is that they shed their skin. This happens seasonally, so we could say that Proteus as the Serpent represents rejuvenation and eternal life. He is pointing to this quality of being within Menelaus and his men. I think the implication here is that wisdom, and even transcendent knowledge, already resides within each of them, and that to grapple with the form of the snake is to awaken to our own self-shining, ever-fresh, timeless awareness.

The leopard’s success in the wild is due in part to its adaptability to habitats, its gourmand diet, its ability to sprint at great speeds, its unequaled ability to climb trees even when carrying a heavy carcass, and its well-known capacity for stealth. In context of our inner lives, to be leopard-like is to be flexible and to know how to adapt when different internal states arise.

Wild boars are primarily nocturnal animals. They find food by rooting through dirt, and eat mainly roots and tubers, although they are know to eat eggs, reptiles, and other small animals. They have exceptional hearing and sense of smell, but poor eyesight. They are very vocal and communicate with others through a series of grunts and squeals. Above all else, they are revered as noble and dangerous prey, especially when cornered. I think that in terms the inner life, Proteus is pointing Menelaus and his men to that part of themselves that is comfortable in the dark, in the shadow self. To root around in the dark is a metaphor for that part of ourselves that is willing to investigate the hidden and disowned parts of our being in order to bring them into the light of day- our consciousness.

Water and The Seals

From the psychological standpoint, water has many interesting and important characteristics that help us understand our own process.

A common aspect is that of representing the unconscious. In The Odyssey water, in the form of Ocean, has many names, and as we have already explored, is the prima materia upon which our conscious life floats.

Another important characteristic of water is its adaptability. It flows along paths of least resistance. It runs freely and embraces everything it encounters with the same respect, whether it comes upon a battle ship or a bolder. To be able to hold onto “sousing water” implies that we possess an innate ability to flow and adapt to change- both internally (in the form of self-definitions) and externally (in physical world reality.)

And still another aspect of water is its prevalence in all that lives. Our planet and our bodies are composed mainly of water. It is implicit to life and is the Element most closely associated with the Proteus myth. Proteus lives in the water, as do the seals.

Seals live on both land and sea. The implication here is that they can travel through polarities- from the dark depths of the unconsciousness to the familiar light of our conscious lives. Like the water in which they live they can flow freely from love to strife. When Eidothea dives into the sea and returns with sealskins for Menelaus and his men, she is transferring this quality of marine mammal adaptability to them. They then take this quality into their encounter with Proteus.

A Tree

A tree is a most marvelous thing and great symbol of completion. Perhaps this is the reason that Proteus’ last transformation is into a tree. Trees have their roots in the dirt, gaining nurturance from the water and minerals in the dark soil. They are topped with leaves that absorb carbon dioxide and sunlight, create chlorophyll, provide shade, and exude life-giving oxygen. They have bark that provides protection for a delivery system between roots and leaves, and limbs that enable birds and other animals to live and thrive.

When Menelaus and his men hold onto the tree I think it’s not from fear of falling but from the sheer joy of touching a localized incarnation of the totality.

 

 

 

Filed Under: Category #1 Tagged With: Edward Edinger, Homer, Individuation, Joseph Campbell, Jungian, Michael Meade, nonduality, Poetry, Psychotherapy, spiritual psychology, The Odyssey

Chapter 3: The Sirens- Possibility For Tasting The Totality

October 10, 2016 by unkahoo@me.com

Finding the meaning in the Sirens’ song
and being Strapped to the Mast

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The Odyssey contains many stories, but the myth of the Sirens is one of Homer’s greatest gifts to us, for it is his invitation for us to participate. The entire adventure is a mere 44 lines of the 13,860-line poem, and the characters involved are few- Odysseus, the Sirens, and the crewmen. The striking brevity of the words and the tiny cast allow us to consider in great detail what this story means to us right now;

Listen with care
To this, now, and a god will arm your mind.
Square in your ship’s path are Sirens, crying
Beauty to bewitch men coasting by;
Woe to the innocent who hears that sound!
He will not see his lady nor his children
In joy, crowding about him, home from sea;
The Sirens will sing his mind away
On the sweet meadow lolling. There are bones
Of dead men rotting in a pile beside them
And flayed skins shrivel around the spot.
Steer wide;
Keep well to seaward; plug your oarsmen’s ears
With beeswax kneaded soft; none of the rest
Should hear that song.
But if you wish to listen,
Let the men tie you in the lugger, hand
And foot, back to the mast, lashed to the mast,
So you may hear those harpies’ thrilling voices;
Shout as you will, begging to be untied,
Your crew must only twist some more line around you
And keep their stroke up, till the singers fade.
1

Directed By The Principle Of Love: Odysseus Strapped To The Mast         

All of our senses are involved in this image; we smell the salt air; we touch the coarse rope binding our arms and legs; we see the separation in the distance between us and our desires; we strain to hear what is being offered in song; we taste our anguished words as we scream to be released. All of this, of course, is experienced as suffering. Odysseus is able to withstand this suffering because he has embraced two great principles.

The first principle is grace. By this I mean the profound sense of peace that we experience as an epiphany when we are forced to drop all stories about ourselves and are left in the ineffable beauty and radiance of our natural state. Odysseus possesses grace as heart wisdom in knowing that the gods support his safe passage. This is the meaning of Circe’s line, “a God will arm your mind.”

It is, after all, the goddess Circe who warns Odysseus about the Sirens in the above passage. It is she who pledges her aid, telling Odysseus how to safely navigate past the danger. But beyond the “how-to’s” of the mechanics, I think Odysseus feels loved and protected, and is filled with a dynamic communion with the Gods. This is what I feel as I consider this story as if it were my personal dream.

The second principle is Love. Odysseus, throughout the entire Odyssey, has the abiding intention to return home to his wife and son. In this most divine and also most human potential for transformation, Odysseus can cut though all distractions from his purpose and summon the strength of heart to “weather many bitter nights and days in his deep heart at sea” in order to fulfill his destiny. He is a living demonstration of the power of Love to overcome any obstacle and return home. For me the wonderful thing about what Homer has written is that he brings in the image I was so taken by when I first read Plato; by abiding in his heart and mastering physical world reality Odysseus is able to “return to his native star.”

From the perspective of the inner journey towards wholeness and individuation, and in learning to love more deeply, the mast represents the great dilemma we each face. The tension of this dilemma takes place while Odysseus is strapped to the horizontal and vertical planes. One might say that the horizontal axis (the boat, the water) represent the goal line of one’s life- the ordinary details of living, and that the mast represents the vertical axis, the “spiritual” aspect of our being. To be bound to this crossing point, this convergence of the physical and the spiritual is the actual condition most of us find ourselves in as we begin to naturally expand our concept of Self. “The physical situation itself,” write Martha Heyneman, “and Odysseus’ agonized pleadings to his men to release him… communicate to the body and emotions what the actual experience of the spiritual effort to remember oneself- to cleave to the vertical- in the midst of life (at least in the early stages of the Way) is like, as no abstract diagram or set of instructions could.” 2

The mast is Odysseus’ way of grounding himself to life. Masts are made from massive tree trunks. Trees have roots in the ground. They function to feed themselves down in the dark through nutrients in the soil and the groundwater that soil holds. Trees also reach skyward with their leaves to soak up sunlight. So by strapping to the mast, to the life force in trees, Odysseus is binding himself to the complete nourishment of life. By being connected to what nurtures all of life, Odysseus’ life is protected.

Being bound also implies that each of us carry aspects of ourselves that must be subdued. Strapping oneself down is a tactic for putting one’s ego in its proper place. This can cause tremendous anguish as the ego fights to maintain the illusion of control. By binding himself to the mast, Odysseus is acknowledging that his ego is going to be protesting vehemently, and he takes measures proactively with Circe’s help; He knows that what he is about to hear in the Siren’s song is beyond his ego’s ability to understand it, yet what they sing is vitally important to his evolution in consciousness.

The binding, the restriction, is an important but interim step in the process of liberation from one’s over-reliance on the ego. By ego, I mean the identity we assume based on past experiences and the self-definitions we create. As Odysseus begins to hear the revelation contained in the Sirens’ song he notices even more acutely and painfully, that what he thought he was, up to this crucial moment, was actually a severely limited being.

By experiencing the pain of this limitation a new condition arises, a new way to see what he may be. I think that at some point Odysseus’ thinking function relaxes because it is bound. When there is nowhere to go and there is no help in sight, he has no alternative but to listen. This condition of surrender is necessary. “The individual,” writes Joseph Campbell, “through prolonged psychological disciplines, gives up completely all attachment to his personal limitations, idiosyncrasies, hope and fears, no longer resists the self-annihilation that is prerequisite to rebirth in the realization of truth.”3

It’s interesting to me that the myth of the Sirens also represents the individual’s struggle to find liberation from the conditioned and learned behaviors that are restricting our life energy that limit our libido, or creative life-energy as C.G. Jung characterizes it.

In Us

As we consider The Odyssey as a personal dream we can explore the possibility that the message the Sirens sing is already in us because we are they.

Homer writes that there are two Sirens. In other Greek myths there are usually three. I think that the presence of two Sirens indicates that as long as Odysseus is strapped to his identification with himself through his limited thinking function, then he is bound to perceiving the world from the standpoint of ideas and concepts about himself and the world of appearances. There is “I” and “Not I.” In the non-duality traditions, including Tibetan Buddhism, the cause of suffering is identifying with one’s ego (sems, “small mind”). By doing this we reify the ego’s thinking function and accept our ideas about things as the reality. This includes ideas about who and what we are.

The Sirens ultimate message can never be revealed because their song is personal; each of us hears something custom-tailored to our particular life’s journey. But I think it is clear by Homer’s phrase “woe to the innocent who hears that sound,” that the Sirens also sing one grand song for those prepared to hear it- of the totality of things. Psychologically this means that if our level of realization has not been sufficiently developed, then we will be thrown into psychotic states and become the location upon which the “bones of dead men rotting in a pile beside them and flayed skins shrivel around the spot.” In A Hero With A Thousand Faces, Joseph Campbell retells a story about Ramakrishna in which he is clearly ready to glimpse more of the totality of life.

One quiet afternoon Ramakrishna beheld a beautiful
woman ascend from the Ganges and approach the grove in
which he was meditating. He perceived that she was about
to give birth to a child. In a moment the baby was born, and she
gently nursed it. Presently, however, she assumed a horrible
aspect, took the infant in her now ugly jaws and crushed it, chewed it.
Swallowing it, she returned again to the Ganges, where she disappeared.3

Edward Edinger makes a great point about this as well;

As the myth warns, it is safe to listen to the source of divine knowledge
only when one is solidly lashed to the mast of reality. Peril lies in the
exploration of the unconscious, for the archetypal symbolism and images
can be exciting and provocative; yet they can overwhelm an ego
that is not grounded in reality. 4

The Sirens sing of the promise of something personal for Odysseus if he would steer his ship over to them. They appeal to his desire to be free from his troubling memories of the Trojan War and his desire to finally rest from the slog of his endless wanderings.

What would the sirens sing to you of your life’s journey so far?

The Crewmen And The Beeswax

In our western parlance “falling on deaf ears” usually means that our truth isn’t being understood and accepted by the listener. In this story of the Sirens deafness is a metaphor for protection from harm. By being deaf to the potentially ego-destroying message of the Siren’s song the crewmen row on undisturbed; they take over the responsibility to stay on course. Odysseus’ total surrender to the Siren’s song is only possible because he can rely on the crewmen. In viewing this part of the story as our personal dream, we can say that when the aspects of our personality are in congruence, when we feel we have some mastery over them, when they can work in harmony as a team, then and only then can we move away from our ego’s narrow definitions of self. When we achieve a high level of integration and psychic harmony we are free to explore what we may be.

Odysseus molds by hand the beeswax ear coverings and places them over each crewman’s ear himself. This shows a great caring between Odysseus and his men, and implies full integration, love, and trust.

Beeswax is created within a harmonious community. Roles in the hive are very clear and responsibilities are shared. Each bee knows by instinct what their job is and how they are helping in the success of the entire endeavor. The men accept the beeswax ear coverings and there is the recognition that each man will play his part towards successfully navigating the Siren’s challenge.

Bees also represent the cross-pollination of nature. They are the ones responsible for the joining of life by flying from flower to flower, spreading pollen. They represent a bridge between opposites- they connect pistol and stamen, or male and female. By putting beeswax on their ears, Odysseus is creating a way to unify the disparate subpersonalities present in our psyches. At the same time, by connecting to a messenger of change (the bees) we participate in the creation of something new.

Jumping Back Into Life

It is interesting to note that right after Odysseus is out of harms way from the Sirens, Homer has him immediately face the double life-threatening challenge of the Scylla and Charybdis. (Scylla is a six-headed monster that eats crew members off the port side. Charybdis is a towering churning whirlpool that destroys ships off starboard. Odysseus must make a choice, and he chooses to lose 6 crew members to save the others. He and his crew eventually pass safely.)

I think that Homer is describing the actual situation we face in balancing the “spiritual” life with the secular through the obscured lens of our world-focused ego. Odysseus has had a dynamic communion with the Eternal Oneness, a direct revelation of unlimited joy and freedom in the song of the Sirens, and is then immediately thrust back into defending his limited secular physical existence. How many of us have experienced this exact same thing? Jack Kornfield wrote a book about this called After The Ecstasy, The Laundry. He writes, “even after achieving such realization – after the ecstasy- we are faced with the day-to-day task of translating that freedom into our imperfect lives. We are faced with the laundry.”5

References

  1. Homer (1992). The Odyssey (R. Fitzgerald, Trans.). New York, NY: Everyman’s Library/Alfred A. Knopf.
  1. The Inner Journey- Myth, Psyche, and Spirit, Parabola Anthology Series, Morning Light Press, 2008. Editor- Martha Heyneman
  1. Campbell, J. (2008). The Hero With A Thousand Faces. Novato, CA: New World Library
  1. Edinger, E.F. (1994) The Eternal Drama- The Inner Meaning Of Greek Mythology (D. A. Wesley, Ed). New York, NY: Shambahla.
  1. Kornfield, J. (2000) After The Ecstasy, The Laundry. NewYork, NY: Bantam

 

Filed Under: Category #1 Tagged With: Edward Edinger, Homer, Individuation, Joseph Campbell, Jungian, Michael Meade, nonduality, Poetry, Psychotherapy, spiritual psychology, The Odyssey

Chapter 2: Psychological Integration in Homer’s The Odyssey

October 3, 2016 by unkahoo@me.com

Structure of The Odyssey
In Relation to the Psyche- Part 2

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Odysseus/ The Hero

Joseph Campbell said many wonderful things about the hero’s journey. Among them are the ideas that the Hero begins his odyssey undifferentiated, encounters many different beings and many pairs of opposites, integrates each encounter, expands his consciousness such that he eventually reaches the unification, a state of non-duality. “Myth is the revelation of a plenum of silence within and around every atom of existence. Myth is a directing of the mind and heart, by means of profoundly informed figurations, to that ultimate mystery which fills and surrounds all existences.”1

The hero then returns to bring a “boon” back to the society from which he came, and everyone’s life is expanded and altered. Their consciousness is expanded by his stories and his presence (The Tibetans have a phrase for the expanding benefit from being near “enlightened” beings, “enlightened intent.”)

But the return “home” is preceded by a quest. The Iliad, Homer’s epic poem that precedes The Odyssey, is a description of the first half of life, the quest. According to Edward Edinger, in The Iliad the raw masculine energies are in full force, unchecked. Here the destructive qualities of life arise and either conquer outer events or tear them down. Either way one must leave the home and differentiate from the mother and father figures. It isn’t until the Trojan War ends that Odysseus begins to look for a way home. This can be described as one’s concerns in the second half of life. The ego, with its blood lust and self-centeredness gives way to larger concerns. Instead of looking for ways to be different, reifying the dualistic quality of experiences, looking for fame and fortune and rewarded for individual triumphs, the self begins to yearn for the similarities and symbiosis with all that lives. Odysseus moves from being all masculine to incorporating the feminine or Anima quality present within him. Union is sought between the conscious mind and the unconscious.

One of the things worth looking at is that Odysseus stays with Calypso for eight years. This indicates to me that after the brutality of the war he has been able to reconcile male and female aspects in his psyche. This is why he has been able to stay for so long, whereas in many other Greek myths, such as Theseus, the feminine aspect is not integrated, but instead is abandoned. Odysseus has mastered the concept of relatedness, and this serves him in the challenges he will be facing later in the poem. Yet at this point in The Odyssey he does not have the ability to leave.

It is interesting that the god who detains Odysseus on the island of Ogygia is not actually Calypso but the god Poseidon. We find out later in the poem that Poseidon does this because Odysseus blinds his son- Polyphemos, the Cyclops. Later in the book I explore this more fully.

As we have considered, Poseidon resides in the sea, the archetypical place of the unconscious. I think that in psychological terms being detained by Poseidon energy means that the thinking function is not developed enough to recognize and integrate deeper levels of knowing, and these deeper levels can swamp an ego unprepared for it.

Another example of the way that Odysseus has reached some level of psychological integration is that he is able to approach each encounter in the poem with a certain amount of openness and intellectual resiliency. He doesn’t back down, and his thinking mind is aligned with the other aspects of his being- feeling, sensing, and intuition. He possesses mastery. And because he has balanced the aspects of his personality he can conquer his challenges.

Homer uses many terms to describe Odysseus: Great Tactician, Expert In Adversity, Master Of Invention, Master Of Land Ways And Sea Ways, Old Soldier, Raider Of Cities, The Man Of Ranging Mind, indicating that his mastery extends to all endeavors. He definitely has the gift of gab. For some reason this gives him an engaging quality. Through this he has a way to have relatedness with other people and basically connect with others in meaningful ways.

Odysseus’ relationship to Athena is profound. Athena is the goddess of knowledge and the goddess of mastery. She is like his patron saint, his ally, and proof of the work he has done to individuate and move towards wholeness.

On reading The Odyssey for the first time it appeared to me that Odysseus has no fear. When I consider Odysseus as my personal dream I see myself as possessing a strong sense of mastery in the world. At the same time, I recognize a balance of masculine and feminine. Upon reading it again he is the captive of Calypso. So while on one hand he has integrated his masculine and feminine aspects he still is unable to pull away from her. I think Calypso is a mild form of the devouring mother. She is keeping him there for her own selfish pleasure and will not acknowledge who he really is and what he wants. Calypso is a hindrance to his growth and his evolution as a conscious loving being.

But this ‘stuckness’ is purposeful. Odysseus eventually gets to leave Ogygia because Athena appeals to Zeus on his behalf. As we’ve looked at earlier, the goddess Athena is the aspect of consciousness that generates mastery in the world. Because Poseidon allows Odysseus to languish under Calypso’s hand for eight years I think this means that Odysseus needed this time, this “liminal” period, in order for his own intuition to strengthen and know what must be done. Something else is working in him, and we could call it the god within. Psychologically I think it’s his numinous working and finally making it’s request known, and finally he is able to integrate it and leave the island.

At the very end of the poem we see Odysseus make the cycle complete. After he has slain all the suitors, he shares with Penelope what Tireseus saw for him at the end of his life. Tireseus says that he would become a teacher with disciples;

“Tireseus told me I must take an oar
And trudge the mainland, going from town to town,
Until I discover men who have never known
The salt blue sea, nor flavor of salt meat- strangers
To painted rows, to watercraft and oars like wings,
Dipping across the water. The moment of revelation he foretold…
Some traveler falling in with me will say:
“A winnowing fan, that on your shoulder there, sir?”
There I must plant my oar.”
2

To winnow is to eliminate waste or to get rid of something undesirable. You could also say it is to remove impurities and inaccuracies, or spot the truth in something. In practical use a winnowing fan is a hand-held wooden filter, held in the hands and shaken to separate wheat from chaff. I take this to signify the completion stage for Odysseus. He has come to be an enlightened being.

The Boat / The Ego

The boat to me represents the ego. It doesn’t have the ability to plumb the depths of the “wine dark sea.” Nor can it fly. Historically the sailing ships available to people at the time that Homer wrote the poem are called a Bireme (two sets of oars on each side of the boat) or a Trireme (which has three sets). These are in addition to the sails. The boat can harness wind power as well as manpower from the rowers, and ride ocean currents through its rudder and keel. So it can harness some natural directional qualities. It can incorporate the wetness, the darkness, and be influenced by the moon and the tides. It is a tiny part of the totality. However, on its own it is aimless, just like our egos. On its own it cannot move towards ascension into spirit, nor can it move downward into Soul, unless it is receiving proper instructions. The best captain for such a vessel is not the thinking mind but the heart. Heart wisdom gives direction and purpose to our egos.

The Ocean/ The Unconscious

Homer uses many descriptions for the Ocean, almost as many as he uses for Odysseus; Winedark Sea, Cold Fish-Breeding Sea, Immortal Sea, Tract Of Desolation, Fathomless Unresting Sea. I think this is important because words cannot adequately describe the ocean. It is truly ineffable. It is the prima materia upon which our conscious life floats. There is an infinite number of ways to explore the symbolism present in the appearance of the ocean. In myths as well as in dreams the ocean to me represents the creative potential from which our conscious lives manifest. Water represents life-promoting, life-giving nourishment that can never be depleted for it is, in essence, our essence. C.G. Jung has distilled his ideas about the ocean into this beautiful little phrase, “The sea is the favorite symbol for the unconscious, the mother of all that lives.”3

The Land/ Sub personalities

I think the islands represent the sub personalities, the seemingly disparate and unconnected aspects of our psyche. Roberto Assagioli writes about this psychosynthesis. His approach is to use Active Imagination to harmonize the aspects. In The Odyssey the distance between the islands represents the fragmented psyche. As I consider how this may be working within me I recognize how I am split into different pieces and that this seeming separation is the root of some of my suffering. The islands here are separated by the Ocean, which can represent the unconscious.

In my own case I occasionally experience the ocean as a quieting energy, and a chasm through which my boat (my ego) must find a way. I cannot see the separate islands (I don’t recognize the sub personalities). When I am on one I can’t see the others, I can’t imagine the others. And so these islands are acting as independent states. Like the ego function, they are not directed, they are not unified, and I don’t feel whole, I feel fragmented. Looked at another way, if I were able to bring my unconscious into consciousness it would be like turning water into earth. I could then stand in one place and be connected to all the islands.

The Sky / Olympus

The sky represents three things to me. First and foremost the sky is where Mount Olympus is located, the homeland of the gods. The gods represent the unmanifest and eternal, the timeless aspect of our being as Awareness; there is an ascensional quality that happens inside of me when I think of Sky in this way.

Also, the wind that powers the ship’s sails exists in the air. It tends to be where signs and omens were seen in the form of birds. Throughout The Odyssey birds appear in the sky as a portent of action about to take place. They are never harmed, but instead, act in harmony with the race of men. Psychologically I would say that the birds represent the intuition function. By understanding and appreciating the messages from birds the characters in The Odyssey are in harmony with their own intuitive nature, and there is an acknowledged degree of integration and wholeness.

The sky also represents the space in which everything happens. In us it is the space between thoughts. As “Sailor” Bob Adamson points out, abiding in this space confirms the nature of what we truly are and allows us to dis-identify with what we are not;

“What you are in essence is self-shining, pure intelligence. The very idea of shining implies a movement. Movement is energy. So, I call it ‘pure intelligence-energy’. It is shining through your eyes. You cannot say what it is, and you cannot negate it either. It is ‘no thing’. It cannot be objectified. It ever expresses as that living, vibrant sense of presence, which translates through the mind as the thought ‘I am’. The primary thought ‘I am’ is not the reality. It is the closest the mind or thought can ever get to reality, for reality to the mind is inconceivable. It is no thing. Without the thought ‘I am’, is it stillness? Is it silence? Or is there a vibrancy about it, a livingness, a self-shining-ness?…We think that we have to attain something and then stay there. Realize that you have never left it at any time. It is effortless. You don’t have to try or strive or grasp or hold. You are that.” 4

References

1. Campbell, J. (2008). The Hero With A Thousand Faces. Novato, CA: New World Library

2. Homer (1992). The Odyssey (R. Fitzgerald, Trans.). New York, NY: Everyman’s Library/Alfred A. Knopf

3. Jung, C.G. (1970). “Special Phenomenology,” Psyche & Symbol, (Violet S. de Laszlo, Ed.) Trans: R.F.C Hull. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

4. Adamson, Bob (2006). What’s Wrong With Right Now Unless You Think About It? London: Non-Duality Press.

Filed Under: Category #1 Tagged With: Edward Edinger, Homer, Individuation, Joseph Campbell, Jungian, Michael Meade, nonduality, Poetry, Psychotherapy, spiritual psychology, The Odyssey

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