The Archetypal Imagination - James Hollis

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imagination

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J A M E S H O L L I S

Foreword by David H . Rosen



^he (B^vchet^al imagination

N U M B E R E I G H T

Carolyn and Ernest Fay Series in Analytical Psychology

D a v i d H . R os e n, Ge ne r a l E d i t o r





imagination

J A M E S H O L L I S

Foreword by David H. Rosen

T E X A S A & M U N I V E R S I T Y P R E S S

College Station



Copyright © 2 0 0 0

by James H o l l i s

M a n u f a c t u r e d in

the United States of Americ a

A l l rights reserved

F o u r t h p r i n t i n g , 2008

The paper used in this book

meets the mini mu m requirements

of the Americ an Nat ional Standard for Permanence

of Paper for Printed Lib rary Materials, Z39.48-1984.

B i n d i n g materials have been

chosen for durabi lity.

e

For a complete list of books in print in this series,

see the back of the book.

L i b r a r y of Congress Cataloging-in- Pu bl ication Data

H o l l i s , James, 1940-

The archetypal imagination / James H o l l i s ;

f o r e w o r d by D a v i d H . Rosen. — 1st ed.

p . cm. — (Carolyn and Ernest Fay series

i n analytical psychology; no. 8)

Includes bibliographical references and index.

I S B N 0-89096-932-9 (cloth : alk. paper);

I S B N 13: 978-1-58544-268-3 (pbk.)

I S B N 10:1-58544-268-2 (pbk.)

1. Arc hetype (Psychology) 2 . Imagination

3. Jungian psychology. 4. Psychoanalysis.

I. Title. II. Series.

B F 1 7 5 . 5 . A 7 2 H 6 5 2 0 0 0

153-3—dc2i 99-057388

C I P



N U M B E R E I G H T

Carolyn and Ernest Fay Series in Analytical Psychology

D a v i d H . Rosen, General Ed itor

The Carolyn and Ernest Fay edited book series , based in i t i a l ly on the

a n n u a l Fay Lecture Series in A n a l y t i c a l Psychology, was established to

further the ideas of C . G . Jung am on g students, faculty, therapists , an d

other cit izens and to enhance scholarly act ivit ies related to analyt ical

psychology. The Book Series and Lecture Series address topics of i m

portance to the i n d i v i d u a l and to society. Both series were generously

endowed by Carolyn Grant Fay , the founding pres ident of the C. G.

Jung E du cat ion al Center in H ou st on , Texas . The ser ies are in part a

m e m o r i a l to her late hu sba nd , E rnest B el Fay. C a ro lyn Fay has plan ted

a Jungian tree carrying both her name and that of her late husband,

w h i c h w i l l bear fruit ful ideas and st imulate creat ive works from this

t i m e f or wa r d . Texas A & M U n i v e r s i t y a n d a l l th ose w h o c o m e i n c o n

tact w i t h the gro w in g Fay Jungia n tree are extremely grateful to C a ro ly n

G r a n t Fay for what she has done. The holder of the M c M i l l a n Profes

sorship in A na lyt i ca l Psychology at Texas A & M func t ions as t he gen

eral editor of the Fay Book Series .



Or



Contents

Lis t of I l lustrations / ix

F o re w o rd by D a v i d H . R o se n / x i

A c k n o w l e d g m e n t s / xv

I n t r od uc t i on / 3

Archetypal Imaginings: The Golden String

Which Leads to Heavens Gate

C h a p te r 1/13

Religious Imaginings: Divine Morphologies

C h a p te r 2 / 3 5

Literary Imaginings: Envisioned Logos

C h a p te r 3 / 59

Incarnational Imaginings: The Painters Eye on Eternity

C h a p te r 4 / 9 9

Therapeutic Imaginings: Psychopathology andSoul

A f t e r w o r d / 119

Re-Imagining the Soul

Notes / 125

B i b l i o g r a p h y / 131

Index / 135





lustrations

P a i n t i n g s by Nancy W i t t

Opening I 66

Inside I 70

Capron I 72

Sue s Fan I 77

Chalice I 81

Windows I 82

SecondOpening I 85

Rhyton I 87

Glass Darkly I 89

Painting (V) I 91

Bailey Won I 93

Cicatrice I 95

Ring of Fire I 97





"ovenwS

Imaginat ion is more important than information.

— A l b e r t Einstein

This book o n archetypal im agin at io n i s cr i t ica l ly needed m edic in e in

this world where information engulfs us . I t also serves as a dose o f

imaginat ive soul to help immunize us against the overwhelming ex

pans ion of ego-based in format ion technology . In addi t ion to wr i t ing

th is book, James H o l l i s has done us a great service by emphas iz ing in

it the universal a nd ancient roots o f im agin at io n, wh ich represent a k i n d

o f natural health food available to us, at all t imes, from w i t h i n . H o l l i s

challenges us to follow Anthony Storr 's prescr ipt ion from Solitude: A

Return to the Se//because it fuels the creative imagination and its sp ir i

tual , art ist ic , and therapeutic manifestat ions. 1 A s Joan C h o d o r o w h a s

w r i t t e n , "Jung's analyt ic method i s based upon the [ innate] healing

function o f th e i ma g i n a t i o n . " 2

Jung's concept o f act ive imaginat ion (the

same thing as creative imagination) requires a meditative state i n w h i c h

the ego is relaxed. This state of reverie allows access to the vast i n n e r

w o r l d of ancient, but l i v i n g , symbols . Once in th is state, a person can

uti l ize wu wei (the Taoist concept o f "creative q uie tud e") in ord er to

begin the process of lett ing things happen in the psyche, wh ich c u l m i

nates in a creat ive product or work of art . 3

Imagination is the eye of the soul.

—Joseph Joubert

Being a lone (a l l One) wi th nature i s intr icately t ied to human imagi

n a t i o n an d the div in e, w h ic h i s the focus of chapter 1, "R el i g io us

Imagin ings . " H o l l i s amplifies Jung's central archetype of the Self—the



n u m i n o u s M ys te ry— w hi ch is o ften experienced as inn er or outer l ight

in the abyss of darkness . The archetypal and inst inctual soul image is

at the core o f a ll rel igious experiences that transform a l ife of neu rotic

suffer ing into one of hope an d me anin g. O ver and over H o l l i s reveals

how hea l ing and w isd om (that i s, sp ir i tu a l knowledge) occur, and heshows how these are related to sym bo ls o f transforma tion a nd creative,

a ct iv e im a g in a t io n .

An uncommon degree of imagination

constitutes poetical genius.

— D u g a l d Stewart

In chapter 2 , "L i te rar y Imaginings, " H o l l i s uti l izes two o f Ra in er M a r i a

Rilke's poems f rom the Duino Elegies to i l lustrate how words create

n u m i n o u s images that prov ide d iv i ne in spi ra t io n and celebrate the

awesome mystery of life, love, an d death. Rilk e writes creatively a bout

all th in gs o rd in a ry a n d e xtra o rd in a ry . H o l l i s underscores Rilke's heal

in g message to "praise this world to the angel . " Rilke knew that the

s p i r i t u a l rea lm a lone is the source of u l t imate meaning, and h is d is

covery of that truth l ives on through his poetry.

Everything you can imagine is real.

—Pablo Picasso

In chapter 3 , " Incarnat ional Imaginings, " H o l l i s leads us to an under

standing o f the painter's vie w o f eternity. H o l l i s singles out Na ncy W i t t ,

a contemporary art ist whose b r i l l i a n t and imaginat ive work depicts a

v i s i o n a r y w o r l d . T h r o u g h H o l l i s ' s d e s c r i p t i o n s , w e v i e w t h e a ct iv e

i m a g i n a t i o n process of a gifted artist. It is clear that W i t t taps into the

c o ll ec t iv e u n c o n sc io u s a n d o u r c o m m o n sp ir i tua l heritage. W e see an d

learn about her growth and development, and we are st imulated to

develop pictures of our own l ives and myths and of what l ies beyondo u r coming deaths.

( X I I ) F O R E W O R D



The lunatic, the lover, and the poet, are

of imagination all compact.

— W i l l i a m Shakespeare

Shakespeare knew, as d id Plato, that love and po etry are k in ds of m ad ness al l t ied to soul ful im ag ina t io n. I t follows that psychotherapy and

s o u l are "Therapeutic Imaginings," the subject o f H o l l i s 's f our t h c h a p

ter. O ne o f Jung's greatest gifts was to treasure the creative aspects o f

m e n t a l i l lness . As Jung d id , H o l l i s emphasizes that the creative spark

o f s o u l , i n th e t r oub l e d i m a gi n a t i o n o f t he p s y c h ol og i c a ll y a n d p s y c h i -

atr ically dist urbe d, conta ins h eal ing qual i t ies lead ing to recovery and

r en e w a l o f p ur p os e a n d m e a n i n g . A s H o l l i s careful ly ou tl ines , the soulhas left modern psychology and psychiatry, and it must be retr ieved

a n d rekindled before i n d i v i d u a l an d col lective heal ing can o ccur. M u c h

o f chapter 4 concerns the creative, soulful , and heal ing doctor-patient

relat ionship . T h e w oun d e d h e a l e r k n ow s h ow t o engage the patient's

p r o b l e m , ho no r sacred dreams, and activate im ag ina t io n an d creat iv

ity, w hi ch a l l he lp the w ou nd ed pat ient heal. A n encou raging develop

ment in psychology and psychiatry is ev ident by the recent focus on

joy , in sp ira t io n, an d hope and c ar in g for the psyche o r soul and i ts

unique, creat ive , and evolut ionary nature . 4

A l i c e W alker has sa id :

O u r shame is deep. For shame is the result of soul injury. M i r r o r s ,

however, are sacred, not only because they permit us to witness

the bo dy we are fortunate this t im e aro un d to be i n , but because

they perm it us to ascertain the co n d it io n of the eternal that rests

b e h i n d the body, the so ul . A s an a ncient Japanese proverb states:

wh en the m ir ro r is d i m , the sou l i s not p ure .

A r t is the m i r r o r , perhaps the on ly one , in w h ic h we can see ou r

true col lective face. W e m us t h on or i t s s a cr ed f un c t i on . W e m us t

let art help us. 5

F O R E W O R D ( x i i i )



In response to W alker' s profo un dly true ref lect ion of ou r co nd it io n,

H o l l i s shows us that the archetypal im agi na t ion is the way to sp ir i tua l

re-awa kenin g, creative prod ucts (that is , art ) , an d sou lful heal ing. Th is

book is a lovely and timely gif t .

D a v i d H . R o se n

Col lege Stat ion, Texas

( X I V ) F O R E W O R D



ments

I was asked to deliver the Fay Lectures at Texas A & M U n iv er si ty l on g

before the prospect of l i v i n g i n Texas ever oc c ur r e d t o m e . S i n ce m ov

i n g to Texas in 1998 and becoming d irector of the C . G. Jung Educa

t io nal Center o f H o u s t o n , I have ga in e d D a v i d Rose n a n d C a r o l y n G r a n tFay as fr iends a nd col leagues. Ca rolyn's v is i on and generosity i n creat

in g an d susta ining the beaut i ful Jung Center of H o u s t o n for over four

decades, a nd the Fay Lecture and B oo k Series i n A na lyt i ca l Psyc hol

ogy, have been wondrous gifts of Jung to several generations past and

m an y m ore to come. To bo th I am grateful for the inv i tat ion to speak

at the dist in gu ished Fay Lectu res, as I have enormous respect for those

w h o have spoken before me.

T h i s book is dedicated to J i l l , t o our c h i l d r e n , T a r y n a n d T i m o t h y ,

Jonah and Seah, ou r grand chi ld ren Rachel and N ich ola s , and to the

p e op l e o f t h e J un g E d uc a t i on a l C e n t e r o f H ous t on w i t h w h o m I a m

priv i leged to work . I a lso wi sh to thank art is t Na nc y W i t t for a l lowing

me to discuss her work, reproduced here in photographs courtesy of

K a t h e r i n e Wetzel . A n d m a y I a lso t h a n k M a u r e e n C r e a m e r B e m k o f or

her deft edi t ing . A n y book , even one w ri t ten by a soli tary , i s the w ork

o f m a n y .





^he (j^zcketifpal imagination





I N T R O D U C T I O N

T h e G o l d e n S t r i n g W h i c h Leads to H eaven's Ga te

What we wish most to know, most desire, remains unknowable and lies

beyond ou r grasp. E a c h o f the chapters that follow begins w i t h this same

sentence , a reminder of the central d i lemma of our condit ion—the

Sehnsuchtfiir Ewigekeit or yearning for eternity, as the Romantics de

fined i t — a n d our existential l imitat ions, f initude, and impotence be

fore the immensity o f the cosmos. O u r endeavor here w i l l be heurist ic.

It w i l l n ot solve any problem, for the human di lemma is insoluble , but

it may al low us to appreciate more deeply the yearning which we em

body, and the resources w h i c h w e have employed to mediate the un

fathomable abyss between lon gin g and c onn ectio n. In a letter the nine

teenth-century novelist Gustave Flaubert succinctly expressed this para

dox: "H u m a n speech i s l ike a cracked kett le on wh ich we tap crude

rhythms for bears to dance to, wh ile we long to ma ke m usic that w ou ld

m elt the stars." S uc h images as cracked kettles and dancing bears hardly

ennoble hum ans, but the juxtap os i t ion w i t h the d is tant lon gin g, wh ich

the stars suggest, certainly creates an affective bridge across that abyss

w h i c h we al l experience. O r we th in k of Tho m as Nashe, in his effort to

conjure w i t h the inexpl icab le horro rs of a s ixteenth-centu ry outbreak

o f the B lack D eath i n his "A L i tan y in Tim e of Plague."

Brightness falls from the air.

Queens have died, young and fair.

Dust hath closed Helen's eye. 1



It is no t so m u c h that death shocks o r surprises us, Na she suggests, b u t

that there are, f inally, no exceptions, no exemptions. As Job found to

his dism ay, we have no s igned contract w i t h the Party o f the First Part ,

a n d all things fall. Brigh tness itself falls. Even queens, youn g an d com ely,

are no exc eption . W e are rem in de d by the death o f Brita in's PrincessD i a n a that the queenly m ay die as easily i n a squa lid Pari s ian tun ne l as

i n state. But the movement of the images from the abstract brightness

to the more pa rticu lar queens to the i n d i v i d u a l H elen remin ds us of the

equality of mortal i ty , the democracy of dust. Here again, the ut i l i zat io n

o f im agina tive figures helps us cross the bridge from the know able w or ld

to the unknowable, just as dreams help us intimate a relationship w i t h

that wh ic h , categorically, we can never k no w : the presence a nd int e n

t io n of the unconscious.

The thoughts now transformed into the chapters of this book were

inf luenced by the metaphors and i n q u i r i n g spir it s of two ima ginat ive

sensibil it ies: Jung and Blake . Both were intuit ives w i t h a keen eye for

the suggestive deta i l , the reading o f the surface to int im ate the i m p l i c i t

subtex t o r the layers of m e a ning w h i c h are emb od ied throu gh the image

but w hic h are in discernib le to the sensate eye. Just as any go od therapist

is obliged to read the surface of presentat ions and discern the hidden

motives , the wounded permutat ions of eros , and the i m p l i c i t strate

gies of hea ling , so the spir i tua lly sensit ive p erson remem bers, i n the

words of the Surreal ist poet Paul E l u a r d , "Th ere is another w o r l d , a n d

it is this one."

H u m a n k i n d has developed resources to int im ate the u nfatho ma ble,to help us reach for the hem o f the gods a n d goddesses, and to s tand in

the presence of infinite values. W e call these resources metaphor (some

t h i n g that w i l l "ca rry over" f rom one thi ng to another) a nd symbol

(something that w i l l "project tow ard " convergence) . W i t h m e t a p h o r

a n d sym bo l , we are pro vis ion al ly able to approxima te , to a pprehend ,

to appreciate that wh ic h l ies bey on d ou r powers to und erstan d or to

c o n t r o l . Unfortunate ly , our species is pron e to fall i n love w i t h i ts ow ncreation s a nd to reify t h e m , c onve r t ing t h e m f r om in t im a t ions t o c on

cepts. By encapsulating the mystery, we lose it entirely. This is the ter

r ible t e m pt a t ion of l i t er a li s t f und a m e nt a l i sm of a l l k ind s . W h e n t he

te m p ta t io n tr i u m ph s, the images that ar ise out of p r i m a l experience,

( 4 ) I N T R O D U C T I O N



p h e n o m e n o l o g i c a l in character, are subordinated to the needs of con

sciousness and thus become artifacts of ego rather than i n t i m a t i o n s of

eternity . Reifying Jung's r ich metaphoric mosaic, which tracks the

mysterious movement of energies, similarly reduces such metaphors

as anima or shadow or complex to metaphysical concepts or the closedsystems of allegories. Whatever the gods and goddesses are, or what

ever the psyche intends through our dreams, is surely driven from those

images when we encapsulate them in concepts. We then lose the ten

s ion of ambiguity that would allow images and dreams to suggest, in

t im a te , and point beyond themselves toward the precincts of mystery.

Perhaps life is inherently meaningless, the raw flux of molecules

f o r m i n g , interact ing, d issolv ing, and forming anew elsewhere. W e have

to be intellectually honest and admit this possibility and restrain the

ego's nervous protest. Yet we find it difficult if not impossible to be

lieve that such a purposeless concatenation o f subatomic particles could

have w r i t t e n the N i n t h Symphony or the D e c l a ra t io n o f Independence,

or even b u i l t the airplanes that destroyed a small town, thus i n s p i r i n g

Picasso's cri de coeur, Guernica. But we do not have to answer this ques

t i o n here, or now, or ever; we can abide the tension of ambiguity in

respectful service to mystery. Jung's concept of the archetype is an

e m in e n t l y useful t o o l for us to employ in service o f m e a n i n g while still

respecting the ambiguous character of the cosmos.

The concept o f the archetype has attained such celebrity as to suffer

the worst of two extremes—to be misinterpreted by otherwise intel l i

gent persons, and to become a s impl is t ic , popular term found at leastm o n t h l y in such venues as Time magazine. The former have accused

Jung of L a m a r c k i s m , a theory of organic evolut ion suggesting that what

is learned in one generation is biologically transmitted to the next. 2

Rather, Jung speaks o f the archetype as a formative process, more prop

erly understood as a verb than a n o u n . The psyche has an apparent desire

to render a raw flux of atoms intelligible and meaningful by sorting them

into patterns. These patterns themselves form patterns, that is, archetypes create p r i m a l forms w h i c h are then filled w i t h the contents unique

to a particular culture, a particular artist, or a particular dreamer.

O n the other hand, the p o p u l a r i z a t i o n of the term archetype has so

reduced its radical significance that at best the word means something

A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N I N G S (5 )



i m p o r t a n t , universal , or moving. The idea of the archetype deserves

better tha n this vague def in i t ion . Indeed, our capacity for sym bol ma k

in g differentiates us fro m a ll other na tu ral species and makes ou r spi r i

tual i ty possible. It is ou r im ag in al capacity (our a bil i ty to for m images

w h i c h carry energy) that constructs the requisite bridges to those inf i

nite wor ld s wh ic h ot h e r wis e l ie b e y ond our r a t iona l a nd e m ot iona l

capacities. W i t h o u t the archetypal i m a g i n a t i o n , w e w o u l d have neither

c u l tu re n o r s p i r i t u a l i t y , a n d o u r c o n d i t i o n w o u l d n e ve r have t r a n

scended brutish rutt ing in the dust en route to becoming dust itself .

W e owe thanks to the Rom ant ics for re m in di ng us of the power o f

i m a g i n a t i o n , the power to create d y n a m ic im a ge s (Einbildungskraft).

In his Biographia Literaria, Samuel Taylor Coleridge differentiates " p r i

m a r y i m a g i n a t i o n , " "secondary im ag ina t io n," an d " fancy." The last is

wh a t t od a y we w ou ld call taste or, at best, aesthetics: the arrangement

o f f or m a n d c o lor in p lea s ing pr opo r t ion s . B u t pr im a r y im a gi na t ion ,

C ole r id ge suggests, was inc a r na t e d in H e b r a ic m y t h opoes is w i t h Y a h -

weh's p r i m a l " I A m th a t I A m . " That is , such metaphor symbolizes the

p r i m o r d i a l const i tut ive act , the summoning up of something out of

n o t h i n g , as in the Genesis a nno unc emen t , "a nd G o d sa id it was goo d."

F o r the H ebre w sensibi l ity , the n, the logos, or act o f speech, sy m bo li

cally represented the mystery o f creat ion, especially the creatio ex nihilo,

for to our l i m i t e d h u m a n c o n d i t i o n , no thi ng exists u n t i l w e s u m m o n

i t to consciousness. Theretofore, creat ion may have exis ted indepen

dently, but it was beyond the sphere of human awareness and thus lay

i n t h e r e a lm o f non-b e in g .W h a t Coler id ge called the secondary i m ag ina t io n was what Jung

mean s b y the arch etypa l power, the capa city to echo, perhap s replicate,

t h e or ig ina l creatio through the generat ive power of an image. This

generative power redeems image from the vagaries of human fancy,

the velleities o r i n c l i n a t i on s of fashion, id iosyncrasy , and com plex , and

resonates w i t h the power of d i v i n e creat ivity. A s the poet R ilk e claim s,

all of creat ion i t se l f awaits this naming power to br ing i t into be ing.O t h e r so-cal led Romant ics sought to redeem the worth of imagi

n a t i o n f rom the Aufkldrung where John Locke def ined imaginat ion as

"decaying sense." A c c or d ing t o L oc k e , t he power t o s um m on up t he




image of a tree depended up on the fading sensate insc r ipt i ons of past

experience on the tabula rasa of the m i n d . H o w e v e r , f o r G o e t h e ,

W o r d s w o r t h , Keats, Shelley, and such thinkers as Kant and Schleier-

macher, the im ag ina t io n was the do or to div in i ty . No one spoke more

eloquently about the divi ne power o f the im ag ina tio n than the engraverW i l l i a m B lake. In a letter writ ten in 1799 he no ted , "to the eyes of the

m a n o f i m a g i n a t i o n N ature is im ag ina t io n itse lf. A s a m an is so he sees

. . . to m e th i s w o r l d i s a l l o n e c o n t in u e d v i s io n . " 3 For Blake and the

Rom anti cs , im agi na t io n is ou r h ighest faculty , not ou r reason, w hi ch

is de l im ited by i ts ow n structures . Kant c learly proved that poin t in A

Critique of Pure Reason, and Blake wit t i ly remarked upon reason's l i m

it s in h is lin es " M a y G o d u s kee p / f ro m s in g le v i s i o n a n d Ne w to n ' s

sleep."4 (W h i l e B l a ke a d m ire d th e im a g in a t iv e p o w e r o f Ne w to n a n d

his dynamic metaphor for the cosmos, he despised the mechanist ic

m e n ta l i ty which it had begotten in Newton's successors, much as we

today may decry the banishment of psyche from the practice of most

psychology.) It is the archetypa l im ag in at io n w h i c h , thro ugh the agen

c ies of sym bo l and m etaph or a nd in its const i tut ive power o f im agi ng,

not only creates the w or ld an d renders i t me aning ful but m ay a lso be a

p a ra d ig m o f the wo rk of divinity . O n another occasion Blake wrote w i t h

s t u n n i n g e m p h a s is : "T h e E te rn a l B o d y o f M a n is T h e I m a g in a t io n /

G o d h im se l f tha t is T h e D iv in e B o dy . . . I n E te rn i ty A l l is V i s i o n . " 5

H u s t o n S m i t h , a h i s t o r ia n o f rel ig ion, once asked me this question:

D oes the archetype o riginate i n the hu m an psyche alone or does it have

a funct io n transcendent to ind iv id ua l experience?6 W h i l e we cannot

k n o w the answer to that question def init ively, I surmise that the ar

chetypal function (remember archetype as verb) does both. It is the

means b y whi ch the in d iv id ua l br ings pa ttern and process to chaos,

a n d it is the means by w hi ch the i n d i v i d u a l partic ipates in those ener

gies o f the cosmos o f w h i c h we are always a part. Th e archetypa l im ag i

n a t i on i s , as W o rd sw o rth de fin ed i t in "T in te rn A bbe y ,"

a motion and a spirit, that impels

all thinking things, a ll objects of all thought,

and rolls througha ll things.

A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N I N G S ( 7 )



O u r i n t u i t i o n of this power fits what W o r d s w o r t h described as

a sense sublime

of something fa r more deeply interfused,

whose dwelling is the light of setting suns.7

A pract ica l manifestat ion o f this process o f archetypal im ag in in g and

a pra ctica l i l lu stra t io n o f where o ur confusion s ar ise can be seen i n

analysis.

I once wo rked w i t h a W estern phys ic ia n wh o a lso pract iced Eastern

heal ing arts , bo th i n pr ivate pract ice a nd at a ma jor East Co ast hos pi

tal . H e k n e w W e ste rn surgery, pharmacology, nosology and diagnosis ,

emergency procedu res, and family pract ice w ell . B ut out of his ow n

c u r io s i ty and desire for a more balanced picture, he had undertaken

f o rm a l study and cert i ficat ion in herbology, Shiatsu, an d acup unctu re .

H e felt that these two approaches to heal ing, while employing dif fer

ent root metap hors , were compatible and probably even more eff ica

c ious wh e n c o m b in e d . O ne s ys te m , e m p loy in g m o s t ly s ur ger y a nd

pharmacology, was al lopathic, that is , invasive and counterposing cer

ta in effects w i t h oppos in g , m o r e powe r f u l effects. The other was more

ho m eop ath ic , operat ing f rom the v iew that health is the natura l state

a n d that the restorat ion o f the ordi na ry f low o f energy, called ki, shi, o r

chi, return ed the person to that homeostasis we call health. W h i l e the

physic ian bel ieved that bo th W estern an d Eastern m edic ine were h e lp

ful , together they surely were even more powerful in act ivat ing themystery of heal ing. In this scenario, the physi cian was no t the cause o f

heal ing but rather the mid wife of the organism's o w n inten t io n.

B u t the phys ic ian faced co nt i nu in g op po s it i on f rom his f rustrated

m e d i c a l colleagues . The y not only dem and ed em pir i ca l data but a lso

resisted the m etaph ors impl ic i t in an alternative h ealing pract ice. W h i l e

he was n o stranger to , no r op po nen t of, stand ard research m etho ds, he

kn ew that wh at he ha d observed i n his prac tice bespoke the efficacy o fthose Eastern healing trad it ion s of several mi l le n n i a . W h a t h e wa s c on

f ront ing i s c om m on: t h e l i mi t e d acceptance of the archetypal imagi

n a t i o n and the anxiety w i t h w hi ch the famil iar p icture is defended.

A s director of the C. G . Jung E du cat i on al Center of H o u s t o n , I have




h a d numerous opportunities to develop and find funding for programs

that use the expressive arts to help ordinary individuals attain greater

personal growth and development. These programs reach out to spe

cial populations, such as the homeless, the chronically or terminally

i l l , or disadvantaged chi ldren. Studies at Baylor College of Medicinehave indicated that when children are traumatized, cr i t ica l pathways

o f the brain are arrested, leading to intellectual and emotional im

p a i r m e n t .

A growing body of evidence suggests that the expressive arts seem

to reactivate those portions o f the brain and reinstitute growth. M o r e

over, a study out of Stanford University indicated that the expressive

arts are more efficacious than other intervent ions , be they after-schoolprograms, sports, c o m m u n i t y projects, or m e d i c a t i o n . In w o r k i n g w i t h

an oncological facility, I learned that expressive arts restore some au

t o n o m y to an i n d i v i d u a l who feels disempowered by a catastrophic i l l -

ness. Patients who engaged in artistic expression generally have greater

tolerance of chemotherapy and other treatment m od a l i t i e s . Expressive

arts may prolong life and palliate pain, but they also undoubtedly en

hance s p i r i t u a l well-being in the face of death. (Here again, the direc

tor of the program felt obliged to assemble hard data to justify these

observed results to colleagues, so wedded were they to the common

al lopathic oncology treatments whose operative metaphors are grossly

called "slash, b u r n , and poison.")

The point about the expressive and healing arts is not that they rep

resent an exciting frontier for explorat ion, though they d o. Rather, both

Eastern healing models and the expressive arts are different ways of

i m a g i n i n g . W h y w o u l d st ick ing pins in someone ease a chronic c o n d i

t i o n elsewhere in the body? Why would painting or body movement

restore portions of the brain's work? Why would imaging, sand tray,

o r other creative activities assist in the tolerance of ins t i tut ional ized

forms of treatment?

A s suggested before, perhaps life is meaningless, but we are mean

ing-seeking creatures who are driven to understand it. Fai l ing that, we

attempt to form some meaningful relationship to life. We learn from

archetypal psychology, from the core of p r i m a l religious experiences,

from quantum physics, and from the artist's eye that all is energy. Matter

A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N I N G S ( 9 )



i s a dyna m ic , tem pora ry arrangement o f energy. A pparently , a re l ig ious

s y m b o l or a prayer, a work of art, or an expressive practice can so act

o n ou r psyche as to move that energy w hen it has been bloc ke d , dea d

ened, or split off.

The spl i t t in g of matter a nd sp ir i t , wh ich were last held together bythe medieval a lchemists, must now be k n i t together, and thoughtful

theologians, imagina tive physicists, an d pragma tic physicians kn ow that.

The spl it between rel igi on and science has been bigoted o n bot h sides,

ignoran t , and has b locked the development of new heal ing mod al i t ies .

The one-sidedness of organizing metaphors of East and West led one

to preeminence in sp ir i tua l i ty a t the dim ini shm ent of the study of na

ture , and the other to promine nce i n the m an ipu lat io n of the tangiblew o r l d at the cost of soul . A dem aterial ized spir itu al it y leads to the ne

glect of legitimate social issues, and the de-souling of nature leads to a

b l a n d , bana l , and ban krup t superfic ia l ity .

But what i s rea l , what i s common to both s ides of these d i c h o t o

mies is not ideology but energy. A l l of them are energy systems. To be

more specif ic , a l l of them are systematized images of energy. It does

not matter whether the image is rel igious in character, purporting to

em bod y the encounter w i t h a transcendent reality, or m ateria l in char

acter, p ur p or t i n g to describe the mystery o f nature in incarnat ional f lux.

E a c h image presents itself to consciousness th rou gh what the ph ilo so

pher H ans Va ih inge r ca l led a "useful fiction," an image whose purpo se

is to poi nt beyo nd itself tow ard the mystery. A s the mystery is by d ef i

n i t i o n that wh ic h we cann ot kn ow , lest i t no longer be the M ystery, our

images are tools, not ends in themselves.

U n de rn e a th these cult ura l sp l i ts , the archetypal im ag ina t io n seeks,

t h r o u g h affectively charge d image s, to conn ect us to the flow o f energy

that is the heart and hum of the cosmos. W i t h such images we have

p r o v i s i o n a l access t o th e M y s t er y . W i t h o u t t h e m , w e w o u l d r e m a i n

locked forever w i t h i n ou r bestia l beg inni ngs. Surely only fools and l i t-

eralists w ou ld confuse the brid ge tow ard the other shore w i t h the shoreitself, or the arr ow w i t h the target, or the d esire w i t h the object o f desire.

T h o u g h w e be g in a n d e n d w i t h the l imi ts o f o u r c o n d i t i o n , an i n

expressible hope , a yea rnin g for con ne cti on , a desire for m ea ni ng , and

a movement of energy toward hea l ing dr ives us forward. Apparently ,




what is real and omnipresent is energy; what al lows us to stand in re

la t ionship to that mystery is image; and what generates the bridge is

a n a ut on om ous p a r t o f our ow n n a t ur e , t h e a r c h e t y p a l i m a gi n a t i on .

W e are never more pro found ly hu m an than when we express our yearn

i n g , no r c loser to the d iv ine than when we im agine . This l inkage w i t hthe infinite has of course been the intent of the great mythologies and

rel igions, the heal ing creative and expressive arts , and the dreams we

dream each night .

T h i s inexp l icable linkag e was w el l kn o w n to the v is io na ries, the art

ists , an d the prophe ts. W e too are obl ig ed to wrestle an ew w i t h the

parad ox that , wh i le ou r con d it i on remains fragi le an d sometimes ter

rible, we are nonetheless afforded a means by which to part icipate inthe deepest mysteries of which we are a part and w i t h w h i c h w e l on g

to connect .

T h os e w h o have tracked the his to ry o f Western thought from Plato

t h r o u g h N e w t o n t h r ou g h H u m e a n d K a n t have con clud ed that we can

only kn ow the answer to those questions wh ic h ou r m i n d is capable of

askin g. O u r sciences are self- l imit ing i m a g i n a l systems, even wh en they

are open-ended. The matters we know conform to matters which wecan know, that is , which are w i t h i n the confines of our capacities to

k n o w . O u r sciences ask on ly the questions we are capable o f k n o w i n g .

W h e n , however, we are v is ited by images which come from another

place, from mysterious o r i g i n , we are opened to something larger than

heretofore possible.

Consciousness i s t ransformed by the encounter w i t h mystery as

invested in images theretofore foreign to i t . In the w o rld of co nte m po

rary d e c on s t r uc t i on i s m , we believe that al l know ledge is interp retat ion

a n d al l interpretation is subjective, prejudiced by unconscious deter

m i n a n t s such class, gender, an d Zeitgeist , and that no inte rpreta tion is

f inal or authoritat ive. Thus, when the cosmos reveals itself to us, it is

by way of the ima ge foreign to consciousness. A n d it is thr ou gh this

encounter w i t h the nu m in ou s that the power o f the archetypal im ag i

n a t i o n makes growth possible.

M a n y years ago, lon g before I was a thera pist, I played a role in the

dream of a fr iend who was going through a terrible l i fe cr is is , not the

least o f whic h i n c lu de d the death o f his c hi ld . In the dream I ha d placed

A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N I N G S ( H )



a strip of m a s k i n g tape on the end of his nose. He knew that I had not

done this bizarre act as a joke or to make light of his Jobean dilemma.

W h e n we talked over the dream and focused on what Jung called the

"obscure symbol," I spontaneously said, " T o m , what you are l o o k i n g

fo r is as near as the end o f y o u r nose." He had an immediate reaction—enlightenment—because his course was clear, albeit painful . He knew

what he had to do.

Despite what we know to be the inf ini ty of our yearning and the

l i m i t s of our powers, we have been provided a means of c o m m u n i c a

t i o n w i t h the mysteries. This power is as near as the end of one's nose.

A s Blake once expressed it:

I give you the end of a golden string,

Only wind it into a hall:

It will lead you in at Heavens gate,

Built in ferusalem's wall*

( 1 2 ) I N T R O D U C T I O N



C H A P T E R 1

D i v i n e M o r p h o l o g i e s

// horses... had hands, or were able to draw with their

hands and do the work that man can do, horses would

draw the forms of gods like horses.

—Xenophanes

What we wish most to know,most desire, remains unknowable and lies

beyond ou r grasp.

H o u s t o n poet Edward Hirsch 's l ines , "Stars are the white tears o f

nothingness . / Nothingness grieves over the dis integrating gods" st ir

i n us a sense o f wistfulness, pathos, longing and loss, even though they

are rat ional ly inexpl icable . 1 The personif icat ion of the stars , the evo

cat ion of "white tears," the grieving over lost certainties—all intimate

the inex pl ica ble, w hi ch is the chie f service o f sym bo l and meta phor.

Compare the honesty of this feeling state, and the respect for the mys

t e r y w h i c h these l in e s p or tr a y , w i t h t h e m a u d l i n , i n f a n t i l i z i n g , a n d

hybristic utterances of the televangelists. H i r s c h honestly reflects the

m o d e r n d i l e m m a o f l i v i n g between m yths, wh ile the purveyors o f one-

l ine theologies u ph old the not io n of the patr iarchal parent . H is lines

are part cri de coeur, part protest , and part expression of radical faith

i n t he i m m e n s i t y w h i c h l ies bot h w i t h i n and ou ts ide us . H is is the h o n

esty of Robert Frost , wh o observed ,

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces

Between stars—on stars where no human race is .



I have it in me so much nearer home

To scare myself with my own desert places.2

Frost ' s evocat ion of images which summon affect a n d p o i n t b e y o n d

their conceptual husk toward the precincts of mystery testif ies to thes incer i ty of the soul 's in tent. H is c o n d i t i o n is ou rs, an d it rem ind s one

o f a comment made by the character Janie in a nove l b y Z or a N e a le

H u r s t o n . Janie said that there are two things all people have to do in

their l ives: "T he y got tuh go t uh G o d , and they got tu h find out about

l i v i n g for themselves." 3

The core c o n di t i o n of ou r tim e has been m anifest as a collective spiri

tual w ou n d , one perhaps as traum atic as an amp uta t ion . (The theme of

personal pathology or private wo u nd in g is discussed i n chapter 4.) Jung

noted that psychology was the last of the so-called social sciences to be

invented because the insights wh ich it seeks were previously in the do

m a i n o f t r i b a l m y t h o l o g i e s a n d i n s t i t u t i o n a l i z e d r e li g i o n s . W h e n

m od e r ns fell off the r oof o f the m edieva l cathedral , Jung wrote, they fell

into th e abyss of the Self.4 Affective linkage to the cosmos, nature, and

the com m un ity was once available v ia t r iba l creat ion stories , heroic leg

ends, and transformative r ituals . W i t h the loss of those connective rites

a n d m ythi c images, the prob lem of ident i ty and the task of cosm ic loca

t i o n , or spir i tu al grou nd ing , becomes an i n d i v i d u a l d i l e m m a .

W h e n the gods le f t Olympus, Jung suggested, they went into the

un con sciou s an d reign no w in the solar plexus o f the i n d i v i d u a l , or are

projected into the world via the sundry sociopathies of a fragmented

c i v i l i z a t i o n . 5 G o in g back to H irsch's l ines, we see that they are el l ipt i

cal , as much modernis t ar t is , because the m ythi c gro un d has shif ted

f rom int imate re lat ionship w i t h nature, from stable social fabric, and

f rom certa inty o f belief. H irsch 's m eta ph ors, l ik e T. S. Eli ot 's "thi s is the

bro ke n j aw of our lost k ingdoms," 6 c om m unic a t e t h r ough t h e ir ve r y

" d i s - l oc a t i on . " In this existential chasm dep th psycho logy necessarily

finds its work, for spir i tual d is locat ion is the chie f wound which l iesbeneath the other wounds we treat w i t h work, drugs , ideologies , or

desperate love.

In h is m e m oir , Memories, Dreams, Reflections, Jung offers a perspec

t ive w hi ch is very helpfu l to us:

( 1 4 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



The need for mythic statements is satisfied when we frame a view of

the world which adequately explains the meaning of human

existence in the cosmos, a view which springs from our psychic

wholeness, from the cooperation between the conscious and the un

conscious. Meaninglessness inhibits fullness of life and is thereforeequivalent to illness. Meaning makes a great many things endur

able—perhaps everything. No science wi l l ever replace myth, and a

my t h cannot be made out of any science. For it is not that " G o d " is

a m y t h , but that myth is the revelation of a divine life in man. 7

T h i s paragraph is very r i c h and w i l l reward us upon further consi

d e r a t i on .First , Jung suggests, our deepest need is for a sense of spi r i tual , or

psychic locus, by which he means a sense of belonging to a super-

o rdin a te reality, a perspective on one's place in the larger scheme of

things , a confirmation of one's role, task, and purpose in striding this

planet. W h e n Jung vis ited the pueblo in Taos, he learned from Ochwiay

B i a n o , C h i e f M o u n t a i n Lakes, that his people, l ike the Elongyi tribe of

K e n y a , rose in the morning and spit in their palms, thereby presenting

their soul-stuff to the sun to welcome it in an expression of sympa

thetic magic. Jung marveled that the people of the pueblo knew why

they were here. What seems naive to the traveler offers most what that

restless traveler is seeking—a reason for being here.

G o i n g beyond the fact of our desire to connect w i t h the cosmos,

Jung argues that the desire itself rises from our psychic wholeness. We

are all the carriers of that energy which fires the cosmos, what Dante

called "The love that moves the sun and the other stars."8 Or, as the

ancient smaragdine tablet(which explained the secret of the cosmos)

of Hermes Trismegistus (also known as T h o t h , the Egyptian god who

i n v e n t e d writing) had it, "Things above are copies of things below.

T h in g s below are copies of things above." Thus, as carriers of the same

energy which animates the cosmos, we employ the archetypal imagi

n a t i o n as the power of constitutive ordering which makes meaning

possible. This "transcendent funct ion," as Jung called i t , not only l inks

us w i t h ourselves, bridging the conscious world w i t h the unconscious

t h r o u g h the venues o f somatic symptom, affect, vi sion, and dream

R E L I G I O U S I M A G I N I N G S (15)



image, but also l inks us to superordinate reality through the symbolic

powers.9

The loss of symbolic connection to self or cosmos, Jung suggests in

the excerpted paragraph, is the chief source of our i l lness. As he so of

ten asserted, neurosis is suffering w i t h o u t meaning and the flight fromauthent ic being. 1 0 The loss of t r iba l symbols, and the linkage w i t h the

transcendent which they p r o v i d e d , obliged the meaning task to invert

as personal neurosis.

The recovery of meaning not only relocates a person in a larger or

der of things but also supports a sense of personal identity and directs

energies in life-serving ways. (I can personally attest to encounters w i t h

these transcendent energies through working on my own psyche, w i t h

the psychic life of others, and in the mysterious, mythopoeic energies

w h i c h fashion our dreams. These encounters w i t h transcendent ener

gies are fundamentally inexplicable, but they are undeniable and re

q u ire an honest person to witness w i t h h u m i l i t y and awe.)

Jung further observed that science, for all its worthy powers o f learn

i n g and methodology, cannot create meaning. Meaning is the epi-

p h e n o m e n a l component of depth experience. W h e n we recall that the

Greek word psyche means soul, then we are obliged to discern that the

tragedy of most modern psychologies, which divide the person into

behaviors, cognitions, and psychobiologies—each true, but each par

t i a l — i s that their practitioners ignore the most immediate reality of

all, namely, the suffering of the soul , as manifest i n the c on s ult i n g r oom .

The bankruptcy of modern psychology is its flight from the soul,

a n d therefore from the transcendent task of m e a n i n g . Such a denial of

de p th is a failure of nerve in the face of largeness. Simi lar ly , most the

ologies have substituted the powers of inst i tut ions and clerical dogma

for the immediacy and idiosyncrasy of personal experience. We can

not transfer experience to each other; each of us has got to go to " G o d "

a n d find out about l i v i n g for ourselves, as Hurston reminded us. Just

as Jung reminded us that "psychotherapy can be a mere makeshift forthe avoidance w i t h the reality o f the psyche," so we regretfully conclude

that the chief motive of many religious inst i tut ions is the avoidance of

actual s p i r i t ua l experience.

B o t h psychology and institutional religion have fallen into the

( l 6 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



shadow problem where fear of the l i v i n g , dy na m ic, somet imes anar

chic psyche prevails . W orse, psycho logy an d rel igi on have addressed

their fear of the psyche by attem ptin g to apply power a nd ego co nt rol ,

to prom ote id eology rather than mythology. A s understandable as these

fear-based stratagems m ay be, they w i l l of course be overthrown bythose pow ers we call the gods an d by the au tono m y of the uncon scious .

A s Jung asserts, "The archetype behind a rel igious idea has, l ike every

inst inct , its specific energy, w h ic h it does no t lose even i f the conscious

m i n d ignores i t . " 1 1 Th is is wh y the person w ho views the w o r l d in d e pt h ,

w ho reads its cip hers, as K a r l Jaspers ur ge d , sees the mo vem ent o f soul

everywhere, however unconsciously processed.

M y t h i s not created; i t i s the phenomenological dramat izat ion ofo u r encounter w i t h dep th. A s Jung concludes , "m yt h is the reve lat ion

o f a d i v i n e l i f e i n m a n . " 1 2 This d iv ine l i fe is expressed through the

psyche's arch etyp al process, w h ic h lifts images u p an d out of the flux

o f nature to serve as mediatory bridges to the cosmos. In speaking of

the archetype Jung means something elemental . Just as there are in

stincts for b i o l og i c a l s ur v iva l a nd s oc ia l i n t e r a c t i on , there are instin cts

for spir i tual connect ion as wel l . Just as our physical and social needs

seek sat isfaction, so the spi r i tua l inst incts of this hu m an an im al are

expressed th ro u gh the po we r of images to evoke affective response.

A n y o n e who has worked w i t h dreams a nd encountered the powers tran

scendent to ego must have some i n c l i n a t i o n of the pow er such images

onc e h e ld for o ur t r ib a l a nc es tor s. A s J ung c onc lud e s , " M y t h s a nd

fairytales give expression to un co ns cio us processes, an d the ir retelli ng

causes these processes to com e al ive a nd be recollected, thereby rees

tabl i shing the con nect io n between conscious an d uncon scious . W ha t

the separat ion o f the two p sychic halves m eans, the psychiatr ist kn ow s

o n l y too w ell . H e kno ws it as di ssoci at i on of the personality, the root

o f a ll neuroses . " 13

T h i s dissocia t ion of the i n d i v i d u a l personal i ty we kn ow by the ugly

a n d m is le a d ing t e r m neurosis, just as T. S. Eliot observed its collectivec ul t ur a l form in what he ca l led " the d issociat ion of sens ibi l i ty"—the

chief spir i tual d i le m m a of s oc ie t y . 14

Th e archetypal ima gi ng power represents an aspect of our pa rt i ci

p a t i o n i n the d i v in e . Jung wr ites : "T he archetypes are the nu m in ou s

R E L I G I O U S I M A G I N I N G S ( 17 )



structural elements of the psyche and possess a c e r ta in a u to n o m y a n d

specif ic energy which enables them to attract, out of the conscious

m i n d , those contents which are best suited to themselves. The sym

bols act as transforme rs, their fun ctio n being to convert l i b i d o f ro m a

' lo w e r ' to a ' h ig h e r ' f o r m . "1 5

These two r i c h sentences bear further a tte nti on . N ote those key

w o r d s numinous a n d structural. T h e ide a o f the n u m in o u s is bu r ie d in

its e tym o lo g y . T h e w o rd o f o r ig i n m e a ns to n o d , to su m m o n , to i n t i

mate; that i s , the nu m in ou s is aut onom ous and is seeking us , so l ic i t

in g the attention of our consciousness. Secondly, the psyche brings

structure to this frenetic dance o f atoms so that we m igh t stand in or

dered relationship to that f lux. This order makes meaning possible; i tis the requisite for consciousness.

M o r e o v e r , as the student o f dreams kno ws wel l , the invisib le energy

o f the psyche scavenges the kn o w n a n d the u n k n o w n w o r lds f or i m

ages to become hosts for meaning. Such image-husks are filled with

energy a nd present themselves dy na m ica l ly for the po ssib il ity of co n

scious disc ernm ent. In ad d it io n to creating consciousness a lone, these

images act ivate , summon, and direct l i b i d o and energy in service to

the dev elopm ental and transcendent needs o f the org an ism . Th is effect

is experienced in rites of passage, i n l i v i n g rel ig ious symbols , and in

af fectively charged l i fe experiences w hi ch mo ve and con fou nd us .

T h r o u g h the a u to n o m o u s f o rm a t io n o f symbols and archetypal im agi

n a t i o n , we move to anc ient rhythms and play out anc ient dramas,

whether we kn ow i t or not .

The deceptions o f m o d e r n culture tempt the conscious m i n d to serve

im m ed iate grat i f icat ion , but Jung has noted that , in the end , such ide

ologies as ma ter ia l ism , hed on ism , and na rc issism s im ply do not wo rk,

a n d they do not connect . M ea ni ng only comes "w he n people feel that

they are l iv ing the sym bo lic life, that they are actors in the div in e d ra m a.

Tha t gives the on ly m ean ing to hu m an l i fe; every thing else is ban al and

y o u can dism iss it . A career, the pro d u cin g of c h i l d r e n , all are maya

[ i l lusion] c o m p a re d w i t h that one t h i n g , that your li fe is m ea nin gfu l . " 1 6

W e l iv e in a sp i r i tu a l l y im p o v e r i sh e d t im e , a n d J u n g argues "that i t

w o u l d be far better stoutly to avow our spiritual poverty, our symbol-

lessness, instead of feignin g a legacy to wh ic h we are not the legit ima te

( l 8 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



heirs at a l l . "1 7 A l t h o u g h we have lost our spir i t ua l con nect ion , we have

n o t lost our s pi r itu al desire. In the same way, a l thou gh we are wi tho ut

gods, they have not d isappeared. The pro blem is s im ply that the i m

ages generally available to us have lost the power to poi nt beyond th em

selves an d thus to connect us w i t h the mystery, alth ou gh we may cl ingto those image-husks w i t h fundam ental ist fervor to mask ou r d isq ui

etude. Even Jesus noted this tendency w hen he said to his disciples, " M y

K i n g d o m is spread all over the earth, and you do not see i t . "1 8

W h i l e a person who works in s incere dialogue w i t h others, submits

to the urges of creative impulse w i t h i n , and tracks the invis ible w or ld

th ro u g h his or her dreams w i l l have a l i v i n g spir i tual i ty , this person is ,

sadly, atyp ical i n our t i m e. For a l l of us, the sym bo lic w or ld is as nearas tonight 's dream, or even in a deepened understanding of our neu

rot ic symp tom s. W e have, however, the opp ort un ity to take a his tor i

ca l tr ip to recollect ho w m ea nin g is foun d , ho w the gods a nd goddesses

rise inv is ib ly from the depths, an d how we are part o f a t imeless drama.

Th e inescapable sol ip s ism of our con d it i on often im priso ns us in

the l imits of our na rrow frame of conscious li fe and biog rap hica l ex

posure . W h en we appro ach the re l ig io n of others we f ind ourselves

u n m o v e d or inc l ined to condescend to anythin g that seems foreign to

o u r exper ience . W h en we examine an d compare the re l ig ious , s p i r i

t u a l , or psychological expressions of others to our own, however, we

f ind that the same process of archetypa l im ag in at io n is at wo rk. It be

comes obvious that despite the disparity of t i m e , geography, and Zeit

geist, we are all part of one psychic family.

C o n s i d e r , for example, how we conjure w i t h t h e id e a o f God . B y

def in i t ion we are constrained as f inite beings before the infinite and

are con st i tut io nal ly incapable of revealing m u ch more th an our o w n

psychology and pre judices in our theological ut terances . Thus , the

W h o l l y Ot h e r , to use K a r l Barth's phrase from Da s Kirklichle Dogm atik,

remains w ho lly other. Non etheless, ho w hum an s have searched for and

formulated the ir sense of transcendent real ity prov ides clues, no t onlyto the mystery o f M yste ry but also to the capacity of the archetypa l

i m a g i n a t i o n to provide figural access to the D i v i n e . Let four quite dis

parate examples serve to i l lustrate this imaginative power at work in

b r i n g i n g u s i n to p r o x i m i t y w i t h the W h o l l y O t h e r .

R E L I G I O U S I M A G I N I N G S ( 1 9 )



The Name and Nature of Zeus

W e s t e r n p h i l o s o p h y c o u ld be said to begin w i t h the exc lama tion o f the

pre-Socratic Thales: panta theonplere, or "e v e ryth in g is full of gods!"

In this formulation Thales witnesses the de p th and d y n a m i s m of a llthings; he exercises the s p i r i t u a l eye, the archetypal , f igural imagina

t i o n . He says, in effect, "Look, look, see there; it is a l ive!" In the post-

N e w t o n i a n u n i v e r s e , B l a k e l a m e n t e d t h a t w i t h o u t w o n d e r , a t o m s

b u m p i n g up against oth er atoms leads o nly to entrop y, even dea th. The

q u a n t u m p h ys ic i st , w o rk in g on the edge of e m e rg in g m o de l s of m a t

ter, sees energy disappear int o som eth ing a ltogether di f ferent. The

physicist can then recover a sense o f p r i m a l awe in the recognit io n that,i n d e e d , everyth ing is full of gods. This use of m e t a p h o r is s i m p l y the

best way to be scientif ic, that is, to pursue scientia or a de e p e r kn o w l

edge of th ings as they are a n d as they may be. "See there; it l ives" is the

credo of the scientist, and his or her use of m e t a p h o r is the resource

used to b u i l d a bridge from conscious l i fe to the u n k n o w n d e p th s. As

C a r l Kerenyi notes, "The f u n da m e n ta l w o rd of this theology is theos.

F r o m a str ic t ly method ologica l poin t o f view it is consol in g that in ord er

to understand theos, no k n o w n or u n k n o w n g o d - co n c ep t , no ' idea of

god, ' need be i n t r od uc e d . A l l we have to do is start from an experience

i n w h ic h th i s w o rd is spoken predicat ively . " 1 9

In other words, the wo rd

god is not a concept, nor a presumed metaphysica l construct ; it is an

encounter, an experience w i t h the vita l is t ic cosmos.

In the same p h e n o m e n o l o g ic a l state as Thales, the Jesuit poet Gera rd

M a n l e y H o p ki n s c e le bra ted the var iety and f lux of life. He concludes

t h e p o e m " P i e d B e a u t y " w i t h praise for the h u m m i n g e n e r g y w h i c h

lies beneath the world of appearances:

All things counter, original, spare, strange;

Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?)

With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim;H e fathers-forth whose beauty is past change:

Praise Him.20




" W h o k nows h ow " ind e e d . Th e a p pr e h e nsion o f the d iv ine is fou nd i n

the spir i tual reading o f the m und ane. To the spir i tual eye, the quidditas

of things becomes an aperture i nt o inf in ite mystery whereby energy

animates matter.

W h e n one considers the name and nature of Zeus, one f inds manyt r a c k s wh ic h le a d f r om As ia a nd Eur ope t o t h e Ind o-Ge r m a nic l a n

guage w hi ch is the m oth er stream of ou r speech. A l l o f those tracks

together constitute the etym olog y o f light, b ot h wor d a nd c onc ept. H o w

are we who are finite to conjure w i t h the inf inite w ith ou t resorting to

the instru m ent of metaphor? W e m igh t em ploy any concrete image to

s u m m o n up this unfathomable mystery of l ight , b u t m o s t w o u l d fall

short o f the nu m in os i ty to w hi ch i t poin ts . The u bi qu ity and necess ityo f the sun co uld not have fai led to impress ou r forebears as the source

o f l i fe , the source o f grow th , the l igh t w h ic h hold s back the terr ifying

dark, and so on. Such associat ions point toward the mystery of the

energy w i t h w hi ch the w or ld is charged.

Ke re n yi further d iscovered that the or ig in al metap hor , wh ic h is a l

ways a r a d i c a l , phe no m eno logic al encounter, meant not so mu ch l ight

as " the mom ent of l ighting u p . " 2 1 Th us, light as a concept is on ly a n o u n ,

a husk; the l ightening is an experience. Day versus nig ht , l ight versus

da rk, and energy versus e nt r opy is pr of oun d , b ut t he d y na m ic e n c oun

ter w i t h the l igh ten in g is even mo re pow erful. T hu s, the experience

involves being struck, seeing the bolt, or feeling its jolt.

T h i s movement from concept to numinous experience is the dif fer

ence between the Job w ho was a go od , pio us boy, obed ient to a code o f

ethics , an d the Job w ho discovered the l i v ing G o d in t er ror a nd wond e r .

H e moves from concept to experience. M a n y pratt le on about p sycho

therapy, wh ether to praise it or denigrate it . Un less one has enc ou n

tered the autonomous, disruptive power of the psyche, one is merely

full of talk, full of what W hit eh ead called the dance o f bloodless cat

egories. Jung was very clear about such a difference. As he wrote in 1959

i n an ast ou nd ing letter about his use o f t he wo r d god, "It is an apt na m egiven to a l l overpow er ing em ot ion s in m y ow n psychic system, subd u

in g m y own c ons c ious w i l l an d us ur pi ng con tro l over myself. It is the

nam e by w hi ch I des ignate a l l th ings wh ic h cross m y wil l f u l p a t h v i o

lently an d recklessly, al l things w hi ch upset m y subject ive views, plans,




a n d intentions and change the course of my life for better or worse." 22

T h i s is not a definition of the divine found in many breviaries or

catechisms, but it is a profoundly respectful account of the author's

experience w i t h the n u m i n o u s , the autonomous Other which lies out

side the frame of conscious control and occasions ever new poss ib i l i ties of depth encounter. W h e n Jung defines neurosis as a "neglected

g o d, " he means no denigration of anyone's theology nor scandal to

behaviorists; rather, he wishes to accord the depth energies w i t h i n us a

larger measure of respect than generally afforded by the ego. He knows,

as does every depth psychologist, that such energies neglected, re

pressed, split off, or projected, w i l l simply find their own autonomous

a n d often disruptive venues for expression. As nature w i l l not bem o c k e d , so the dynamic energies which course through us w i l l n e i

ther be suppressed nor control led forever, lest they in time break forth

as monsters.

T h u s , Kerenyi is insisting that Zeus is the image which arises out of

the experience of the sun and is not the sun itself. Zeus later became a

su n god through the extension o f these natural associations, but he was

orig inal ly the experience of being suffused w i t h light itself; he was not

the light but the experience of l ight .

C o m i n g down a quite different path, the poet Wallace Stevens wrote

i n his poem "Sunday M o r n i n g " o f the contemporary sp ir i tua l dilemma

f rom a postmodern perspective. Rather than seek the divine in inst i

t u t i o n a l or dogmatic form, he images himself as a savage, dancing in

adorat ion o f the pagan sun: "Not as a g o d , but as a god might be, / naked

a m o n g them, l ike a savage source." 23

T h i s urgency to personify the cosmos is the p r i m a l religious need

to connect w i t h the Mystery. The etymology of the word religion re

veals two sources, one meaning "to b i n d back to something" {re-ligare)

a n d the other "to take into careful account" (religere). The former im

pulse is toward r e u n i t i n g w i t h the source from which one has become

estranged, and the latter is to respect the gravitas o f that mystery. W h e nStevens writes "not as a god, but as a god might be," he is both acknowl

edging the postmodern recognition of the husk which has lost its sa

cred energy and also affording an existential respect for the power of

the numinous. To dance about the sun as a savage sensibility,Stevens




suggests, w i l l perhaps bring one closer to re-evoking that numinous

mystery than would pious acts sanctified by dogma.

Jung, as usual, has anticipated this discussion and even uses the

image of the sun to explain:

P r i m i t i v e man is not much interested in objective explanations of

the obvious, but he has an imperative need—or rather, his un

conscious psyche has an irresistible urge—to assimilate all outer

sense experiences to inner , psychic events. It is not enough for the

p r i m i t i v e to see the sun rise and set; this external observation must

at the same time be a psychic happening: the sun in its course

must represent the fate of a god or hero who, in the last analysis,dwells nowhere except in the soul of man. 2 4

T h i s need to assimilate, to internal ize , is the need we all have to render

the world personal and experiential in a s p i r i t ua l and meaningful way.

A m o n g the fifteen or so subject areas in which analysts are examined

at the Jung Institute in Z u r i c h is the psychology of p r i m i t i v e cultures.

A s the word primitive is out of fashion now, one might substitute the

w o r d primordial. We were asked to demonstrate knowledge of many

topics of a n th ro p o l o g ic a l significance because the human psyche has

n o t changed. There are certain forms and motifs common to all cul

tures irrespective of cultural overlay, and the nature of p r i m o r d i a l

t h i n k i n g about profound experience remains common to us all. We

see magical t h i n k i n g , projection, conversion, transference, projective

ident i f icat ion, spirit possession, and a host other psychic phenomena

manifest not only in psychotic process but in everyday life as well .

Yet the failure to internal ize primary experience is why the light has

gone out in so many religious and academic institutions. It is not

enough to have the received image; it must retain the power to move

one personally, direct l i b i d o in service of personal development or

c ul t ur a l sublimation, and stir the heart while persuading the brain.M o r e o v e r , such images must further contribute to one's sense of par

t i c i p a t i o n in that divine drama o f w h i c h Jung spoke. Hence the ascent,

the pleroma, and the descent of that br i l l i ant gaseous mass in the sky

is analogized so that we might understand both the v i t a l p r i n c i p l e we




call gods and goddesses as well as something about the life-transit of

each of us.

In the death and rebirth of the sun, in the defeat of darkness, in the

o x y m o r o n i c "eternality of evanescence" are found the essential and

universa l experiences of otherwise i n d i v i d u a l i z e d lives. Jung c o n t i n ues, "they are symbolic expressions of the inner, unconscious drama

o f the psyche w h i c h becomes accessible to man's consciousness byway

o f projection—that is, mirrored in the events of nature. The projec

t io n is so fundamental that it has taken several thousand years of c i v i

l i zat io n to detach it in some measure from its outer object." 25

T o read the cosmos, then, we need to read the psychic life of i n d i

v i d u a l s . Or, put another way, we read myth to learn what is in theh u m a n soul; we read the human soul to learn the dynamic laws and

p r i n c i p l e s of the mythic cosmos. Jung asks why psychology is the

youngest of the empirical sciences and why we did not long before

discover the unconscious and raise up its treasure-house of eternal

images. His answer? "Simply because we [previously] had a religious

f or m ul a for everything psychic." 2 6

Because of this progressive separa

t io n of psychic life from nature and the result, a de-souled cosmos, we

have been obliged to invent psychology to inquire after the velleities of

the soul turned in upon itself. No wonder E l i o t observed in The Waste

Land that we live amid "a heap of b r ok e n images."

H o w far removed this is from that time when the Greek w o r l d could

still experience the l ight ing up as both an inner and an outer experi

ence^—an experience which could once be evoked in the utterance of

the sacred word Zeus. Such an experience is truly religious, in both

senses of the word, for there is a re-connective process and a deeply

cons idered event.

A d d e d to this moment when inner and outer theophany are one is

the experience of the daimon, a most personal encounter w i t h the di

v in e . The daimon maybe seen as both transpersonal and intrapersonal.

The d a i m o n is the in te rm e dia ry agency, as in the Chris t ian mythologemo f the H o l y S p i r i t , yet it was experienced in intensely personal ways so

that each of us might c la im to have our particular daimon.

Surely each o f us has had from c h i l d h o o d on a deeply intu i ted sense

o f an interior Other who was manifest in sundry ways, who could not

(24) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



be summoned at wil l but was one's familiar, and who knew us, and knew

other matters, more deeply than we could c o m p re h e n d. Most o f us have

lost contact w i t h that presence, and surely one of the greatest tasks of

therapy is to reintroduce a person to his or her daimon—the i n d i v i d u a l

yet transpersonal dimension which drives us, wants something of us,a n d constitutes our linkage to largeness. I recall one woman who called

her daimon by the anagram T W I H A T , standing for "that which I have

always thought. " W h e n it spoke, through dreams, sudden ins ights , and

openings to the world beneath this w o r l d , she listened.

H i d d e n in the etymological recesses of the gods and goddesses are

r a d i c a l (that is, fundamental) insights into the nature of reality. In fact,

we could define these divine beings archetypally, symbolically speaking , as the affect-laden, highly charged, numinous images which arise

ou t of a depth experience. For this reason, they are present in love and

war, as we all know, and even in those experiences that arise out of the

psychopathology of everyday life and which Jung dared call "god." We

smile and nod in recognit ion at the name P os e i d on , whose eponymous

metaphor means earth-shaker. Whoever set out on Homer's wine-dark

sea, or stood close by while black sails sank beneath the h o r i z o n , or

t r e m b l e d amid the great power which shook beneath one's feet knows

the metaphor of earth-shaker well . Or one thinks of Ceres, the god

dess of grains, from whom we get our d i u r n a l cereal. She sacrifices her

body, w h i c h is broken on the threshing floor, alchemical ly transformed

into bread, and then inexplicably converted into sinew, brain matter,

a n d the yearnings o f the soul. W h o could account for these things? Who

cannot but stand and praise w i t h the heart (and hopefully a ready

metaphor) what w i l l forever confound the mind?

The development o f m o d e r n i s m represents the d i m i n i s h m e n t o f the

n u m i n o s i t y o f these root metaphors and their incremental replacement

w i t h artifacts of intellect. As tools o f the intellect, these root metaphors

are easily m a n i p u l a t e d , but they are less and less able to stir the heart

o r move the soul. Kerenyi delineates this declension:

H u m a n experience does not always give rise immediately to ideas.

It can be reflected in images or words without the mediation of

ideas. Man reacted inwardly to his experience before he became a




thinker. Pre ph ilos op hic al insights and react ions to experience are

taken over and further developed by thought, and this process is

reflected in language. . . . Language itself can be wise and draw

d i s t i n c t i on s through which experience is raised to consciousness

a n d m a d e i n t o a p r ep h i l o so p h i c w i s d o m c o m m o n t o all those whospeak that language. 2 7

To sum m arize , a pr im al exper ience begets an image which is the car

rier of the mystery. For a t im e, a mo m en t or a m i l l e n n i u m , that image

rem ain s suffused w i t h energy and m ay be evoked to sum m on the p r i

m a r y e xpe rienc e or a s im ula c r um of it. As t ime is the enemy of sym

b o l , an d the deit ies have their own agenda, the energy leaves the image,

w h i c h remains an art ifact of m i n d , a husk which once the gods and

goddesses in ha bit ed . Th e oldest of religiou s blasphemies is the l i teral-

i zat ion o f the hu sk an d its w ors hi p, w hen the energy has already gone

elsewhere. Th is is ido latry, and its servant is that reif icat ion wh ic h pr o

tects itself against the gods and goddesses b y w o r s h i p i n g t h e ir graves.

W h e n such v i ta l l inkage leaves the i n d i v i d u a l , he or she suffers neuro

sis ; when it leaves the tr ibe, it occasions a cultural cr is is , w i t h a l l o f

those sociopathies which beset us today. The suffering occasioned by

the loss o f the l igh t is wh at m ad e a nalyt i c psych olog y necessary. It is a

means of he lping the i n d i v i d u a l find his or her own way back to the

pr e cinc t s o f nu m ino s i t y .

The Insect God of Dung

O n m y desk i n H ou sto n there is a four- i nc h-lo ng a labaster carv ing of

a scarab. Those o f us w ho w ere raised i n the W estern rel igious tra d i

t i o n , which is to say, the dogmas, r ituals , conventional art , and def in

in g inst i tut ions of the m edi eva l and Renaissance eras, m a y find i t hard

to conjure w i t h the idea of a dung beetle as an image of div in i ty . N o ton l y is it lack ing in grandeur, bu t it ha rdly seems to exalt or glori fy the

idea of the eternal. Yet in this lowliest of creatures, we once again find

the archetypal im ag ina t ion at wo rk. Even Blake , in "T he Songs o f In

nocence and Exper ience , " had to wonder i f God had intended some




sort of private joke w hen he mad e "o u r places o f joy excrementi t ious. "

Taking a clue from the E gypt ian i m ag ina t io n, however, we find that

th e m o st re l ig io u s o f ide a s—th e ide a o f de a th a n d re su rre c t io n —

emerges out of the humblest of matter.

The lowly but sacred beetle (Scarabaeus sacer) serves as the objecto f i m a g i n a l exfol iation wh en it is found in sarcophagi a nd wh en it seem

ingly arises out of d u n g . W h a t ide a c o u l d be m o re p ro f o u n d th a n th i s,

that out of death new life emerges? The sun, which is born over and

o v e r a g a in , s im i l a r l y su gg este d de a th a n d re b i r th a n d th e n a tu ra l

r h y t h m of things, and the great solar disk is central to Egyptian ico

nography. A n d these tw o sym bols, scarab and su n, are logica l ly l i n k e d ;

the Egyptians observed that the dung beetle la id i ts larvae in dung,rolled that dun g into a b al l , and p ushed i t into holes w hi ch it had du g

for this purpo se. After a per iod of gestation, the beetle pulls the ha rd

ened b al l , reminiscent of the sun-disk , back out i nto the sun . W he n

the sun's rays d ry and crack open this vas hermeticum, new life emerges.

H o w pow erfully these tw o images, of the d yi ng an d rebo rn sun and

the beetle wh o b ring s life out of d ead ma tter, speak to the p r i m a l i m a g i

n a t i o n . The deity K h e p e r i , the god of transformations, was frequently

depicted w i t h a scarab beetle on his head or a scarab for his head. In

m o d e r n Sudan, the scarab beetle is still dr ie d a n d m ixe d in to f e rt i li ty

p o t io n s f o r w o m e n . 2 8

S o m e in d iv id u a l s m ig h t th in k su c h im a g e ry arose from those w i t h

too m uc h t ime on their hands, and they w ou ld be r ight . B ut today we

have too little t ime on our hands. So distracted are we by the pace o f

m o d e r n l i fe that we grow separated from the natural world and our

wo nd er before it . A s the pace of l i fe accelerated in early modern Eu

r o p e f o u r h u n d r e d years a g o , th e m a th e m a t ic ia n / th e o l o g ia n B l a i se

Pascal wro te i n his Pensees that the secret task of civ i l izat ion was to offer

divertissement or "distract ion, " lest we grow terr i f ied of being whol ly

present to ourselves.

Before moving to Texas I had an office w i t h a cathedra l ce i l ing and

glass wa lls on three sides. A s I sat for a decade in the same chair, at the

same hou rs , day i n and day ou t , I became aware of the transits of the

sun. W h i l e such solar progress ion would have been impercept ible to

the distracted person, I began to note how different objects received a




u n i q u e angle of l ight and took on various textures every day, as the

h our s a nd seasons passed. In a year, of course, we returned to the be

g i n n i n g and s tarted anew. This s implest of observat ions , which any

shepherd on any hi l ls ide w ou ld have s im ilar ly exper ienced, filled m e

w i t h awe and st irred a sense o f p a r t i c i p a t i o n in the M ystery .O u r t ime in the changing l ights of this cycl ing sun is so brief , but

this cycle is eternal. W h en we becom e present to such feel ing-laden

experience, we have religi ou s experience, that is, we are re con nec ted ,

a n d we observe w i t h gravitas. H o w e v e r c o n v e n t io n a l , or even obvious ,

m y observa t ion, i t was a m ov in g rem ind er to me o f b o t h personal eva

nescence an d at the same t im e pa r t ic ipa t ion in t he a r c h e ty pa l r ou nd s .

So i t must have been to the E gyp tia n wh o observed the low ly beetle inits i n s t i n c t ua l r ound s a nd b e ca m e aware that we tr u ly are, as Jung sai d ,

part icipants in a sacred drama. Surely this is why we long to vis it the

ocean or s tand before a m ou nt ai n range— to return to our sma l l place

before the large, to recover a sense o f c o s m i c p r o p o r t i o n .

It was f rom the French s tructural anthropologis ts L ucien L evy -B ruh l

a n d Claude Levi-Strauss that we ga ined a new appreciat ion for the

" p r i m i t i v e m i n d " (better termed " p r i m a l m i n d , " w h i c h does not im ply

infer ior i ty) . In contrast to the pr i m a l m i n d , we as mod erns have fallen

into e t h noc e nt r i s m b y va lu ing a pa r t ic u la r f or m o f c onc e pt ua l iz ing ,

m o s t c o m m o n l y a cause-effect thought process: A begets B . Th e m e a n

in g o f A an d B arises out o f the pred ica t io n of B by A an d , increasin gly

i n A m e r ic a , t he c ost to pr od uc e B f r om A .

F o r t he p r i m a l m i n d , however, the meaning of a concept is not de

r iv e d f rom causal i ty but f rom imaginat ive associat ion. Thus , a mod

ern m i n d w ou ld hear a do or s lam and conclud e that the soun d meant

the do or was no w shut. B ut the pr i m a l im ag ina t io n ma y associate the

s o u n d w i t h the event of passage through that door .

In this exam ple o f the doo r , the pr im al im ag ina t io n saw l ife em erg

in g from the basest o f ma tter and was st irred to grasp a d y n a m i c t r u t h .

A l t h o u g h t h e m o d e r n m i n d would label this idea i l lo g ical , it in factfollows a logos of perhaps a higher order, the logic of imaginative as

so c ia t io n . The image is not itself the concept, as the modern m i n d

w o u l d have i t , but rather what the image ma y st ir i n the un con scio us,

or what aperture it may open to depth.

( 28 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



W h i l e the m o d e rn m i n d can produ ce great wonders , and great h o r

rors, it can just as easily sever i tself f rom the archetypal roots of our

sp ir i tua l nature, which susta ined and nourished us through the cen

turies. The power to connect w i t h the transpersonal w i l l surely prove

even greater than the power to fractionate. The chi ef cause of our psyc h ol og i c a l distress , our sp ir i tua l mala ise , i s the derac inat ion of our

archetypal ro ot in g in nature and the pov erty o f affective, im agina tive

assoc iat ion w i t h the passing wonders of the world.

The Latchkey to Eternal Life

O n c e while touring Ire land my wife and I v is i ted a buria l s i te named

N e w G ra n g e , w h ic h h a d be e n u n e a rth e d p e rh a p s a h u n dre d m i l e s

northwest of D u b l i n . W ha t was once thoug ht s im ply to be a h i l l was

f o u n d to be a do m el ike structure m easuring about three hun dr ed feet

across the top. To enter the tomb, one walks down a narrow tunnel

perhaps fifty feet into the earth. Therein l ies a chamber which served

as a bu ria l p lace for an u nk no w n civ i l i zat io n that pre-dated the Celts

a n d the Egyptian pyramids. The guide turned off the one electric l igh t

in the cham ber and al lowed us to be i n total darkness in the three th ou

sand -year-old to m b, after tel l ing us that the entire structure was c om

posed of cant i levered boulders w i t h n o m o r t i s e - a n d - t e n o n , n a i l , o r

super-glue ho ld in g it together. A single sneeze m ight d o i t , I thought;

after all , why w ou ld we expect any b u i l d i n g to last three millennia?

A s we stood in this place I had three thoughts in this order. First,

a n d most obv iously, I was i n awe of the engineering wh ic h ha d created

this m arv el , a canti levered d om e o f stone u po n stone that outlasted its

engineers an d testified to the w in d ow o n eternity. N ext , there was a latch

key hole in the eastern qua dra nt o f the ceil ing. Between D ecem ber 21

a n d 25 l ight streams thro ugh that hole and i l lum inat es the entire cham

ber for approximately f i f teen minutes. So, secondly, I marveled at thea s t r o n o m i c a l sophistication of the builders of that place, to have dis

cerned so accurately the movement of the heavens that long ago. But

thirdly, I shud dered , not from being i n a place o f death, but rather from

being in a place of resurrection. I knew that I was in the presence o f




the archetypal im ag ina t io n, the rea lm of the Great M ot he r cycle of

mythology.

Such archetypal imagery bespeaks the greatest of religious ideas:

b i r t h , ascendance, dea th, an d then re bi rth . In the place of the dea d, at

the time of the winter solstice, at the time of the star of Bethlehem, atthe t ime of the candles of Chanukah, at the t ime when there is little

l ight , wh en we are i n the dark realm , we are nonetheless rem ind ed that

the planet is a lready spir al in g back to wa rd l ight , toward sprin g, toward

resurrect ion. To th is moment I remain moved by the power of that

ima ginativ e l inka ge. To see in the da rk t im e the rebir th of this sc in ti l la

o f l ig ht , to b r i n g one 's d ead to the p lace where such a pr of ou nd

m yth olog em co uld be ritua l ized and celebrated, is to be an actor i n the

sacred dr am a. H o w cou ld we not hon or those who felt such a deep

c o n n e c t i o n to the fundamenta l rhythm of nature, to the death and

reb ir th of div ine nature, and to the wonder of our own being which

partakes of the same energy?

The theologian Paul Ti l l ic h once observed that the chief curse of

our time is not that we are ev i l , though often we are, but that we are

banal , superf ic ia l . The recovery of depth wil l never come through an

act of intellect, unless that intellect is i n service to won de r. W e can re

cover depth, however, by opening ourselves to the numinous which

nods at us and invites us. W e can also use ou r ima ginativ e pow er to

seize such moments of beckoning and the images which rise sponta

neously f rom them.

Magic and Mistletoe

In the nineteenth century there was a substantial interest in the explo

r a t i o n of ant ique c iv i l izat ions , H e i n r i c h Schliemann's explorations of

what he bel ieved to be Agamemnon's palace at Troy being the most

notable. The brothers G r i m m traversed the Ge rm an ic states a n d t ra n scribed tales o f the sp in ni ng whe el , the Marchen, which we today call

the fa iry tales. Concurrent w i t h the erosion of l iteral Christian bel iefs

under the com bin ed onslaught of new methods of bibl ical scholarship

and the epochal discoveries of D a r w i n , an interest in fo lk w isd om in -




tensified as in di v id ua ls sought to recover sp ir i tu a l ins ights f rom other

tradi t ions . F ro m th e f o u n d in g of T h e T h e o so p h ic a l S o cie ty in L o n d o n

i n 1875 and the emergence of analytical psychology at the end of that

century, a lternative paths to spiritual insight opened.

Interest in the great m ytholog ica l trad it ions culmin ated i n 1890 w i t hthe p u bl ic a t io n o f S i r James George Frazer's magisterial The Golden

Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion. W h i l e a ll m y t h ol og i c a l , a l c h e m i

cal, and folk culture motifs are vast treasuries for those who w ou ld learn

the dynamics of psychologica l process, we w i l l focus now on the idea

of the golden bou gh. W hat was i t? W h y was i t im portan t? W e kn ow

that the golden bo ug h was carrie d by Aeneas in his catabasis to the lower

w o r l d . Bu t w h a t w as the p la y o f im a g in a t io n w h ic h p ro du c e d th i s i m age, and what truths perseverate through t ime?

Fraze r was a scholar o f his age. W h i l e his learnin g was im me nse, h is

cultura l bias seems dated today. Curious as he was at the plethora of

images ava i lable f rom antiq uity , he tended to consider the con tem po

rary rel igions superior, and hu m an ity more evolved. (This mo re evolved

culture w ou ld shortly slaughter itself at little villages l ike V e r d u n , Ypres,

a n d Passchendaele, and in the Argonne Forest, but Frazer could not

im a g in e su c h , th o u g h D o sto e v sk i d i d . N o r c o u l d h e im a g in e th at th e

l a n d o f Dichter und Denker—p o ets a n d th in ke rs — w o u l d be co m e th e

n a t i o n o f Morder und Henker— murderers and han gm en). Frazer is led

to ant ic ipate the idea of the archetypal im agin at io n thro ugh the repl i

cat ion of myth ologems f rom culture to cul ture . H e c on c l ud e d , "recent

researches int o the early histor y o f m a n have revealed th e essential s i m i

lar i ty w i t h w h i c h , und er ma ny superf ic ia l differences, the hu m an m i n d

has e laborated i ts fi rst crude phi losop hy of l i f e . . . prod uc ing in var ied

circumstances a varie ty o f ins t i tut ions specif ically different b ut gene ri-

cally a l i k e . " 2 9

Frazer's interest in magic arose out of his encounter w i t h a certain

k i n d o f t h i n k i n g , w h i c h I w o u l d call the im aginat ive power. H e tended

to consider such t h i n k i n g p r i m i t i v e w h e n c o m p a r ed w i t h cognit ive ,syl logist ic though t. Bu t h is del inea t ion o f sympathet ic magic and con

tagious magic is still helpful to us.

The idea of sympathetic magic is based o n the n o t io n o f s imi lar i ty .

F or example, couples might copulate in newly planted f ields to rouse

R E L I G I O U S I M A G I N I N G S (31)



the powers of nature or to evoke the gods to sim ila rly fructify. O r they

m i g h t sacrifice a plant, an a ni m al , or an o ld k i n g in order to s imulate

a n d stim ulat e the cycle o f sacrif ice wherein new life arises ou t o f death.

Contagious magic i s based on the idea of contact . Things jo ined, or

w h i c h are co ntig uo us, are forever inf lu en tia l on each other. W e kn owthe truth of th is when we observe the staying power of parenta l co m

plexes or the fact that divorce does not end a marr iage. W ha t has been

powerful ly j o i n e d , for good or i l l , continues to inf luence one w i t h the

other in perpetuity .

W h a t Frazer calls magic is the effort to conjure w i t h the inv is ible

w o r l d , w h e th e r in te n t io n a l o r n o t . W h i l e m a g i c a l t h i n k i n g — t h e a s

s u m p t i o n that m y thoughts or actions can have a n effect on the othe r—

may str ike us as na ive and m isgu id ed , we have to recal l the power of

complexes, projections, scapegoating, psychic possession, and trans

ference phe nom ena , w hi ch Jung h elped identify, to adm it that , ind eed ,

there is such mov emen t of inv is ib le energy for w hi ch the w or d ma gic

was once used.

Jungians puzzle other schools of psychology w i t h their interest in

such antique m ater ia l , but part o f Jung's genius was to see the human

psyche as a ho log ra m . W heresoever it is at w or k, i t leaves t he i m p r i n t

o f i ts pervasive dynamics. To learn of those fundamental psychic pro

cesses which we al l embody, suffer, and are driven by, we may steep

ourselves in the Marchen. To study such m ate rial is to uncover the re

current paradigms of psychic process for i n d i v i d u a l therapy. Frazer's

magic i s pr im ar y psychic process, and what he considers am usin g but

interesting my th ic m otifs , we see con stit ut ing the residue o f that ar

c h e typa l im a g in a t io n w h ic h re n ders th e w o r l d m e a n in g f u l .

Jung w ou ld not pu bl ish h is theory o f archetypes u n t i l 1912 in Sym

bols of Transformation. T h o se w h o de n y th e a rc h e typ a l im a g in a t io n

s i m p l y have not im m erse d themselves i n the thesaurus o f images avail

able, f rom E ast and W est and f rom the anc ient wo rld , no r have they

sharpened the eye to see those same moti fs in m od ern dress.The m agica l though t that " l ike heals like," what we call h o m e o p a t h i c

m e d i c i n e , certainly occu rred to our ancestors. Th e golden bo ug h is one

e xa m p l e . A sso c ia te d w i t h the sacred groves o f A r t e m i s / D i a n a , the

h u n te r goddess of the woods, i t derives from the mistletoe which was




cut at the winter sols t ice . In t ime i t turns ye l low, that is , golden.

Mist letoe 's presumed powers supposedly arose from the fact that it

seemed neither tree nor bush. It dwelt in the in-between, between

heaven a nd earth, an d therefore pa rtoo k of two wo rld s, possessing the

pow er to heal or destroy. (B uri ed i n the idea o f pharmakon, f ro m w h i c hwe der ive "pharmaco logy, " is s im ilar ly the not io n of ki l l ing o r c u r i n g

by ingest ing certain substances.) The green world mist letoe seemed

f e m in in e to the ant ique im ag ina t io n even as the tree aro un d wh ic h i t

was c irc led seemed ma scul ine . A ga in , one sees the interact ion of two

worlds . T h a t it was green at the tim e of the winter solstice further stirred

the associat ion w i t h the death/rebirth theme already discussed. The

ye l l o w in g o f the green was seen as a solar residue an d thu s, even m ore

i n the m ix in g of solar and luna r , the carr ier of the nu m in ou s . W ha t

better imago of heal ing and of i l l u m i n a t i o n of darkness, then, than

ma gic a nd mist letoe? W ha t better guid e, as Aeneas i l lustrated, t h r o u g h

the dark descents into night?

W h a t images do we have o f heal ing that int im ate for us contact w i t h

the mysteries? T oda y we sw allow the m ag ica l pi l l m a nuf a c t ure d in N e w

Jersey and fervently hope that l ike w i l l cont inu e to cure l ike. It is still

ma gic , an d as we kn ow from the placebo effect, it works all the better

the m ore our heart and im ag in at i on embrace the treatment . A s m o d

ern m edi cine is co m in g to acknowledge, we w ou ld be better to embrace

the placebo effect as a clue to the pow er o f psyche's heal ing intent than

d is m is s i t as a b iz a rr e a nd id ios y nc r a t ic ph e n om e non . W e k n ow f r om

sha m an ism to the present that a key element in healin g is bel ief i n thepower of an agency to effect heal in g, whether that agency b e a T l in g i t

sham an, a Na vajo sand p ain t in g, a person in a wh ite coat at a h i gh

tech m ed ica l center, or a p i l l created in a huge factory.

In e x a m i n i n g these four motifs , the name and nature of Zeus, the

insect god o f d u n g , the latchkey to eternity, an d the l i n k between magic

a n d m istletoe , we are v i s i t i n g a place i n the hu m an psyche where no th

i n g has changed. W e thi nk our age is adva nced, and technolog ical ly i tis, bu t at the cost of that fragile l in kage to the an im ist i c powers of n a

ture. O u r capacity to open ou r ow n im ag in at i on to take in the images

o f other t imes and places, other human beings l ike us, reconnects us

w i t h ourselves i n the end , for we are they, an d they are us. W e re m em -




ber that the sym bo lic li fe, as Jung cal led it , occurs wheresoever we e n

gage in depth. W e learn so m uc h more about the actua l funct i on ing of

th e h u m a n p syc h e —its e m p l o ym e n t o f p r oj e c t i on , m a g ic a l t h i n k i n g ,

a n d the l i k e — t h a n modern textbooks of behavior, c o g n i t i o n , and phar

macology even attempt. We find that we are no more advanced whereit matters than were our ancestors who may have h u d d l e d i n fear a n d

cold caves, in forests or tun dr as, but they had a con ne cti on to the tra n

scendent powers w hi ch we ignore at ou r peri l .

The archetypal im agi nat ion is the means b y w h i c h we encounter the

d i v i n e an d how i t ma y be reborn i n us . A s Jung writes ,

The m ed iato r ia l prod uct [ i.e., image or sym bol] . . . forms the raw

ma teria l for a process not of d isso lut io n but of cons tru ct io n, in

w h i c h thesis an d antithesis b ot h play their part. In this way it be

comes a new content that governs the whole att itude, putting an

end to the division and forcing the energy of the opposites into a

c o m m o n cha nn el. The s tand sti l l is overcom e an d l ife can f low o n

w i t h renewed power towards new goals . 3 0

O u t of the tension of opposites, the new t h i n g , the t h i r d , is where the

g o ds a n d h u m a n s m e e t , w h e re de v e l o p m e n ta l h e a l in g o c c u rs , a n d

where meaning w i l l still be foun d . W ha t ou r predecessors l i ved, we have

now rendered consc ious. W h i l e consciousness can be a hindrance to

tra n s f o rm a t io n , it m ay also enable us to recover a respect for the im a gi -

nal w or ld and to confess a h u m b li n g need to track those images to seewhat they may be asking of us.




C H A P T E R 2

E n v i s i o n e d L o g o s

Poetry heals th e wounds reason creates.

— N o v a l i s


beyond our grasp. In this chapter we w i l l celebrate the power of speech

to assist us in our task of art iculat ing this deep long in g.

To m y m i n d , wh ile I love the w ork o f m any poets f rom m any lands ,

n o n e surpasses that of Prague-born Rainer M a r i a Rilke for depth of

ins ight , aesthetic achievement , an d v is ion ary am bi t io n. I f I had o nly

two boxes of bo oks to take to the pro ver bia l desert is la nd , one o f them

w o u l d be the Collected Works o f Jung an d the other wo u ld be the prose

a n d poetry of R i lke , b o r n th e same year as Jung, in 1875. Both would

offer inexha ustible explora t ion s of the mystery o f the psyche, no m at

ter how lon g one rema ined o n that is land .In the previous chapter I did not intend to denigrate the power of

language or to privilege ph eno m en olo gic al experience over consciou s

ness. Ind eed, we recall the observ at io n o f Ke re n yi that "Language itself

ca n be wise and draw dis t in ct ion s thro ugh wh ic h exper ience is ra ised

t o c ons ciousne ss a nd m a d e int o a pr e ph i los oph ic wi s d om c om m on t o

all those who speak that language." 1 W e are usin g language even no w

to activate enha nced awareness of, a nd the po ssib il ity of, enlarged e nc ount e r w i t h the d iv ine .

Two great energies, o r dy na m ic prin cip les, driv e the universe. Th e

first is E ros, w h o m the Greeks co nsidered a god . Parad oxically , Eros was

the first o f the gods a nd the last of the gods, perhaps because he is foun d



at the or ig in o f all things and is ever renewing h i m s e l f i n each new sit u

a t i o n . Eros is the energy which seeks connect ion. Freud was r ight in

suggesting that the world is erotic, for it is forever seeking to combine

i n new ways w it h the O ther, whether at the m olecu lar level or thro ugh

the Sehnsuchtfur Ewigekeit. The other great power is Logos, the d i v i d

ing power, the pri nci ple o f developm ent thro ugh differentiation. Its goal

is c larity, or consciousness. W he n eros and logos combine, there is a

synergy w h i c h is extr aor di nar i ly powerful . I often f ind such synergy in

the w ri t i ng of Ri lke . H is themes are the universa l themes: love a nd

death, what depth m ay be seen th rou gh simple things, and w hy we may

be here on this spin ni ng globe. For al l the sim pli c it y of subject, h ow

ever, few writers have managed to point beyond the subject toward the

numinous as profoundly as Ri lke has .

For our purposes I need to restrict our consideration to two of the

Duino Elegies. The ten Duino Elegies are verbal equivalents to Beetho

ven's nine symphonies; they derive their name from the Duino Castle

o n th e A d r i a t i c where, i n 1912, Ri lke was overtaken by a nu m in ou s voice

w h i c h dictated the first line of the first elegy. He wrote the Elegies off

and on for the next few years before p ub lis hi ng them together i n 1923.

The last elegies were completed in a paroxysm of creative spontaneity

i n 1922, an d Rilk e wrote a friend o f his , "though I can barely manage to

h o l d the pen, after several days o f huge obedience to the s p i r i t . . . I have

c l i m b e d the mo un ta in ! A t last! Th e Elegies are here, they exist." 2

"Huge obedience to the sp ir i t "—those are Ri lke 's own words for

what is surely religious experience, the possession by the daimon whois bot h personal and universa l , terr ible and transformative . H is obed i

ence to this spi rit is the necessary h u m i l i t y b efore th e n u m i n o u s — " N o t

m y w i l l but Th in e" — a n d , l ike the mother 's d el ivery of a c h i l d , occurs

i n revelatory suffering. W it ho ut suffering no th in g genuinely new w i l l

come forth . L ike Jacob wrest l ing wi th the angel, the courageous artist

says "unless you bless me, I w i l l not let go of you."

I f we are honest with ourselves, we are obliged to admit that therewas no signif icant psy chological or spiri tua l grow th i n ou r li fe with ou t

the experience o f suffering. This is why Jung defined neurosis as suffering

w h i c h has not yet fou nd its m ea nin g, not that suffering co ul d be e l i m i

nated. M oreov er, in that form of rel igious expression w hi ch we find in




aesthetic achievement, we acknowledge Orpheus as the mythic para

d i g m , the singer who descends into the un d erw orl d even as we descend

into the unconsc ious to r isk a l l—possibly to return w i t h E u r i d i c e , o r

the golden bo ug h, the new ins ight , or po ss ibly to per ish . A l l o f these

catabases a n d anabases require risk and suffering. The Danish theolog ian Soren Kierkegaard spoke of th is paradox of the aesthet ics of

suffering, an d the suffering of aesthetics, in a rather hor rif yi ng parab le:

A poet is an unhappy being whose heart is torn by secret suffer

ings, but whose l ips are so strangely formed that when the sighs

a n d cries escape th e m , th ey so u n d l ike be a u t i fu l m u s ic . H is fate is

l ike that of the unfortunate v ic t im s w ho m the tyrant Phalar is i m

p r i so n e d in a brazen bul l , and s lowly tortured over a steady fire;

the ir cries could not reach the tyrant 's ears so as to strike terror

into his heart: when they reached his ears they sounded l ike sweet

m u sic . A n d m e n c ro w d a bo u t th e p o et a n d say to h i m : " Y o u m u st

s ing for us again so on." W h i c h is as m u ch to say, " M a y fresh suffer

ings torture your soul but may your l ips be formed as before; for

the cries w ou ld on ly fr ighten us , but the m usic i s d el ic io us. " 3

The them e o f Rilke's two elegies o n w h ic h we w i l l focus are, quite sim

ply, love and d eath, the old Liebestod, in whose grip Ri lke strains to ex

press the inexpressible, as W agner does in the mu sic of Tristan und Isolde.

What Do We Love When W e Love?

Rilke's th i rd elegy, w r i t t e n i n 1912-13,e xpl ores the m u l t i l e v e l o f i n t i

mate re la t ionship . In re la t ionship we move not only w i t h consc ious

i n t e n t i o n but i n concert w i t h deeper, more anc ient motions, chthonic

m o t iv e s , p r i m a l forces, and tel lur ic patterns. Rilk e invokes the lon g tra

d i t i o n o f amor, that powerful energy rescued by the troubadours andMinnesingers o f the M i d d l e A ges, that energy som ewhere between eros

and agape— personal , int im ate, an d universa l a t once.

It i s one t h in g to s ing of the B eloved. A n d another, alas, to invoke

the secret, g u i l t y R i v e r - G o d o f t he B l o o d . 4

L I T E R A R Y I M A G I N I N G S ( 3 7 )



A s we k no w m or e a nd m or e of the b iologica l determinan ts i n ou r l ives,

such as those affect ing long evi ty or pro cli vi ty to certain i llnesses an d

e m o t i o n a l states, so we recognize that our i n s t i n c t ua l p r o g r a m m i n g is

p r o f o u n d , urgent, and insistent. Ben eath the conven tions o f the praise

o f the belov ed there are the older, darker forces— the wo nd erfully ep i-thetic " R i v e r - G o d o f th e B l o o d . " Su ch a force is personif ied an d d eif ied,

a n d r igh tly so, for ou r encoun ter w i t h such power is always archetypal,

always capable of seizing us, possessing us, and carrying us along its

canal ized course. I f i t is guilty, then of what? The River-God is guilty

i n the sense that it secretly possesses us and obliges us to serve m o r e

t h a n one motive in any relat ionship. It is this same c h t h onic powe r

w h i c h creates Liebeswahn, or the love-madness in honor of the mad

g o d w h o possesses souls and makes them insane in t u r n . L ike the i n t i

m a t i o n of " l i g h t e n i n g " in the nam e a nd nature o f Zeus, so this d u p l i c i -

tous, hermetic god is always present.

Just as the ins cri pt io n w h ic h Jung carved over the entrance to his

h om e i n K i i s na c h t r ea d s, " C a l le d or not c a l le d , G o d w i l l be there," so

Rilke acknowledges that conscious or unconscious as the lovers may

be, the deeper and darker powers are immanent. Such an overpower

in g experience, wh ic h we characterize as love, is rel igiou s in character,

given its gravitas, its c om p e l l i n g power, and its auton om y. W e recall a lso

Jung cal l ing "g od " that wh ic h crossed his path an d overthrew his w i l l

for good or i l l . Each of us has been in the hands of this god and has

been swept along by its urgent flow.

W h a t do these lovers know o f " t h i s l o r d o f d e s i r e . . . e m b o d y i n g th eu n k n o w n " and "arou s ing the nigh t to an endless c lam or"? W ha t can

the t h i n wafer of consciousness know of the vast s e a upon wh ic h i t

tosses? E ach o f us has a pro fou nd ambivalence towa rd the inner sea in

w h i c h w e s w i m . W h e n James Joyce b r ough t h is s c h iz oph r e nic d a ugh

ter to Jung for a consu ltat ion , Jung repl ied, "She is d row ni ng in that

sea in wh ic h y ou lea r ne d t o s wi m . " 5 The sea of w h i c h he spoke was of

course that oceanic world that each of us carries w i t h i n , in wh ic h e ve no u r biographies toss i n tu m ult .

W h o o f us has not been some latter-day Jonah, fleeing the summons

to witness, bein g swallow ed by the da rksom e, d ev ou rin g sea-monster,

a n d then bein g f lung back u po n an al ien shore a nd o blige d to reflect?




Like the "s inners in the hands of an angry G o d " of Jonathan E dw ards,

lovers are but frai l and fragile wafers, bravely but naively set upon the

sea.6 A n d what te l lur ic powers await such mariners? " O h the Ne ptun e

o f the b l o o d , w i t h his fearsome tr ident." W e kn ow the power o f Posei

d on /N ept un e to shake us, d ro w n us, wash us from the shore. W e resonate to this archaic force w i t h i ts terrible tride nt, whose skewers, l ike

C u p i d ' s arrows, sweetly w ou nd and b r in g anguish int o the w o r l d . " O h

the da rk wi n d from his breast o f spiraled shell . " Th us the evo cation

not on ly of that pagan pow er but a lso the dark w in d wh ich emanates

from h i m , the devo uring pneuma, b o t h w i n d a n d spirit , w hic h animates,

moves, carries away, and sometimes destroys . W h i l e the strategy of

consciousness and o f con ven tio n is to appeal to the stars, "the p ri m a lconstel lations," to some celestia l setting to summon up the image of

the belov ed , Rilk e rem ind s us that we are i n the hand s o f the river -god ,

the nihi l i s t i c N e p t u n e w i t h his terrib le trid ent . Beware those who love

passionately, then, for they are taken and tossed, and often lost.

Ri lke did not read Jung to the best of my knowledge, but as a deeply

percept ive and intuit iv e in d iv id ua l he mi ne d the same regions of the

psyche. H e know s that some thin g larger tha n consciousness is evoked,

that the dark river god courses from a cht ho nic place. B eyo nd and be

low the beloved , Rilk e intuits the parental im ago. The beloved on ly stirs

the memories , the paradigm, the programmed imago of the Int imate

O t h e r . Speaking to the beloved he says, "T ru ly you d id shake h is heart

w i t h older terrors , r ip pled throu gh h i m in deeper shocks. C a l l h i m , bu t

yo u cannot p u l l h i m away from a deeper intercourse."

Th e "deeper intercou rse" to wh ich Rilk e al ludes consists o f those first

a nd p r i m a l re la t io n sh ip s, the in te rn a l iza t io n o f w h ic h creates a p r o

f oun d sense of Sel f and O ther, and o f the transact ions between the m .

A l l of ou r l ives these p ri m a l parenta l imagoes are transferred to ever

new relationships, and their tyranny is a l l the greater when they are

un con sciou s. A s Shakespeare observed i n The Tempest, no prisons are

mo re con f in ing than the ones o f w h i c h we are unaware.The chi ld ' s inter nal iz at io n of h is or her m othe r becomes the tem

plate wh ic h al l other relationship s replicate or struggle to transcen d. It

sounds terribly reductionist ic to us, d eter m inis tic even, to speak o f such

p r of oun d and pervasive inf luence, but i f one looks long enough, and




deeply enough, one f inds always the trace of the parent-child dyad

i n f or m i n g the choice, strategies, and often outcomes of later relation

ships. E ven the com pen sato ry fantasy that one is ch oo sin g the oppo site

o f one's parental imago still shows one to be def ined by the original

experience. H o w m u ch of ourselves do we ever choose? Rilke raises thesame quest ion.

But did he begin himself?

Mother, you made his small self;

For you he was new...

And you bestowed on him friendly eyes,

and protected him from things foreign.

O n e could offer an ad hominem analysis of Rilke 's emphasis on the

power of this p r i m a l , ma ternal ma tr ix , an d ind eed, he d i d suffer f rom

a pow e r f u l ly ne gat ive m ot h e r c om ple x . O n a separate oc c a s ion h e

wr ot e ,

Ah, woe is me, my mother rends me.

Then I put stone upon stone around me

And stood there like a little house,

Around which da y moved magnificently,

Ever alone.

Now comes my mother, comes and rends me.

A l t h o u g h Ri lke once confessed that he di d not love his moth er, his treat

ment of the mother in the t h i r d elegy is be ni gn , even laud atory. A n d

he is no t w ro ng i n his assert ion o f this p r i m a l p o w e r o f the m oth er, for

she is the im m ed iat e, im m an en t experience of li fe and of rela t ionship ,

for good or i l l , and she is the mediator w i t h the larger world outside.

A s an analyst , I am oblige d to agree w i t h his conclu s ion that the power

o f the m oth er experience, for me n an d for wo m en , is , generally speaki n g , the single greatest psychological inf luence in our l ives.

Th e mo the r depicted i n this elegy is protect ive rather tha n d evou r

ing . W h e n t he c h i ld ' s r o om is full of shadows and sounds at night and

his terror rises to fill that vast space , w hi ch "y o u mad e harmless. " H e




writes that "there wasn't a nigh t-no ise you r smile cou ld not assuage, as

i f your omnisc ience had a lready known such sounds. "

A s the m e d ia tr ix w i t h the w o r l d , the mother's fears, u n l i v e d l ife, an d

projected desires become part of the internal mythology of the c hi ld .

H i s or her cond uct o f adul t l ife, psychology, theology, and relatio nship sw i l l a ll seek either to con fir m , to compensate for, or to heal the m yt h-

ologems i m p l i c i t in th is f i rst , pr imal re la t ionship . Jung agreed that

Freud's O e d i p a l com plex was un iversal but had as its m otive not sexual

c o n g re ss bu t im m e rs io n in th e a l l - p ro te c t iv e , a l l - n u rtu r in g so u rc e ,

against which only the hero's journey could overthrow the seductive

power of such satiety. As Jung explains, the ch i ld "tears h i m s e l f away

from the mother, from the domestic hearth, to rise through battle tohis destined heights. Always he imagines his worst enemy in front of

h i m , yet he carries the enem y w i t h i n him sel f— a dead ly long ing for the

abyss, a longing to drown in h is own source, to be sucked down into

the rea lm of the M oth ers . " 7

N o do ub t Rilke used his transcendent aesthetic powers to escape that

d e v o u r i n g m other, but she was forever present in his intim ate rela tio n

ships. That wise A m er ica n poet W alt W h i t m a n m u st have h a d a s i m i

lar feeling wh en he wrote o f a " D a r k M o t h e r " that always f ol lo w e d h i m .

Ri lke acknowledges this awesome mediator ia l and direct ive power:

"So tenderly powerful your presence as yo u sto od b y the bed , that his

Fate slid be hin d the ward robe, and h is s t i rr ing Future s l ipped into the

folds of the curtains."

Rilke's testim ony to the power of such pr im a l experience may seem

overstated to some. In bot h me n and w om en , however, the deeply bu r

ied im p ri n t of such experience constitutes a de facto m ytho logy, by

w h i c h I m ean a W eltanschauu ng, a set o f values, an assemblage of be

haviors and attitudes, and a propulsive power for reenactment. A l l su b

sequent relationships begin i n project ion, mov e towa rd the transference

o f such impl ic i t mythologies , and unconsc iously seek to replicate, co m

pensate for, or heal the f irst relatio nship. A ny one w ho works a na lyti

cally wil l find this core tru th in the heart of any serious analysis.

T h e internal izat ion of the person al m oth er constitutes the perso nal

d i m e n s i o n , or what Jung ca lled the "m oth er com plex " o f the c hi ld . T h e

w o r d complex here is entirely neu tral . I t s im ply means the inte rna l iza -




t ion of a pow erful experience w h i c h , affectively charged, has the capacity

to act auto nom ou sly when act ivated a nd , g iven i t s or ig in in the past ,

tends to create repet i t ions—p atterns based o n the dyna mics o f its o r i

g i n . W e kn ow h ow dif ficult it i s s im ply to be i n this moment , for this

moment is re f lex ive ly compared w i t h other such moments , and thepsychic his tory o f the person is dy na m ica lly present an d invasive. O n l y

when we respond spontaneously or inst inctually to an event are we in

the mo m ent ; most o f the t i m e , we are in history, for his tory is d yn am i

cally w i t h i n us. To think otherwise is the insidious ploy of the ego to

serve its fantasy of control .

M o s t w o m e n w i l l testify that their male partners often engage w i t h

them as they w o u l d their mother, seeking to please them, to control t h e m ,or to avo id t h e m . M en cannot help but have the mo ther imago act ivated

wh en i n the presence o f intimate relationship. A n d the power whi ch the

mo ther held i n his li fe f loods h i m , uncon sciously, an d sets i n m o t i o n

the protect ive motives which confound his partner. He does not t h in k

o f her as his mot her, but the histo rica lly generated com plex is b l i n d to

the present and floods this moment w i t h the mythologems of origins.

Yet even the perso na l mo th er is as a fragment float ing o n a vast sea.

W i t h o u t k n o w i n g a n y t h i n g o f Jung's conce ptua l izat ion of the col lec

t ive uncon scious , Ri lke intui ts that we all are mo ve d by formativ e forces

w h i c h l ie beneath personal history. Jung spoke of the longing to be

sucked do w n into " the realm o f the M o t h e r s . " H i s capita l izat ion of the

m a t e r na l bespeaks more an archetypal imago than personal complex .

A s the chi ld sleeps, und er the emb racing care o f his M o t h e r , R i l k e c o n

t inues , "he seemed p rotected . . . bu t ins ide wh o co uld d ivert the an

cestral f loods w i t h i n h i m ? "

Inside h i m , " the ancestra l f loods ." W ha t f loods , what o r ig in? W ha t

secret sources antedate the personal mother who has been the perva

sive presence f rom the mo m ent of h is b ir th? Jung suggested that every

complex has i t s archetypal root reaching down into our prehis tor ies .

In each affect ively charged complex, which is a personal experience,t he re i s a s ub s t r a t um — our i n s t i n c t u a l , a n im a l na t ure , wh ic h i s inh e r

i ted by the species and is ou r grou nd ing in the Great M ot he r arche

type . In this most t rans ient co nd it i on of m orta l i ty there are webs o f

p r o g r a m m e d t i s s u e s a n d a u t o n o m o u s energies w h i c h m o v e u s t o




rhythm s not consc iously ours . W h o or what invents ou r dreams, our

re l ig ions , ou r patterned choices? W ha t powers m ove us to reprod uce,

to b u i l d c i v i l i z a t i o n , to long for meaning? These are the gods, namely,

the archetypal powers which are more ancient than we can imagine.

These powers shape us . A s Ri lke contin ues, "he was su bsu m ed , enm eshed , in the spread ing web o f inn er events, w i t h paradigms of veg

eta l and animal forms. "

W e a l l kn o w th o se "v e ge ta l a n d a n im a l f o rm s" a n d have always

k n o w n the m . The y were m ore im m ed iate to us wh en we were chi ldren.

W e knew they l i ved , for they stalked ou r dreams and were gl imp sed in

our nursery rhymes and bedtime stories. But we learned to distance

them a n d b u i l d the protective walls of ego to defend ourselves againstt h e m . O c c a s io n a l l y th e p o e t w i l l re m in d u s o f th e se a n im a l f o rm s,

whether outer or inner, as Yeats does i n h is poem "N ine tee n H u nd re d

a n d N i n e t e e n" : " N o w days are dragon-r idden, the n ightmare / Rides

u p o n sleep." 8

St i l l , these abysses are not just terrifying; they are also our home.

W e come thence, an d we carry such un cons ciou s chasms wherever we

go. Rilke imagines as well that the c h i l d can love th is world w i t h i n ,

embrace it , and be one w i t h his nature: " O h how he gave himsel f o v e r—

loved his inner wi lderness, the p r i m al w oo d , am id whose density h is

heart stood l ight-green."

H i s heart is l ight and green, the colo r o f the Great M o t h e r , a n d l ig h t-

green, for i t rests l ig htly in the bo som of i ts true hom e. A ga in , we see

th e p e rso n i f i c a t io n o f the a rc h e typ a l im a g in a t io n w h i c h a l lo w s u s

m o m e n t a r y access to such mysteries. These divine powers cannot be

nam ed or con ta in ed , but they can be apprehend ed by v irt ue of the

m e d i a t i n g s y m b o l .

W h e n one is in the presence of this archetypal f ield, one is full o f

terror l ik e the bibl ica l prophet wh o fears the L o r d . B ut th is fear is more

accurately awe. Existential ism reminds us that the abyss i s our home,

a n d ou r freedom is foun d i n em brac ing that abyss w hi ch we also ca rry

w i t h i n . Rilke imagines that the c h i l d , w h e n o n e w i t h his own nature,

leaves "his ancestral roots, and goes out in to the pr im a l source where

his t in y b i r t h was already transcended."

T h e ch i ld we were, the ch i ld we carry sti l l , is the carrier of ancient




energies. Recall that it is the energy which is real, not the husk which

h o l ds i t for a t im e and then releases it to seek other incarnat ions . The

source to which Rilke al ludes may be called God or nature or, more

adequately, the Mystery, but we are its carriers. This l i tt le i n c a r n a t i o n

we call ou r lives is but the vehicle for a larger jou rne y w hi ch d iv in it ymakes throu gh us. Jung's idea of i n d i v i d u a t i o n is not in service to the

narciss ist ic inf lat ion o f the ego; it is a h u m b l i n g assu m ptio n of the task

w h i c h fate has assigned to us. W e are asked to become the in d iv id u a l

i n order that our sm al l po rt i on of the unfo ldi ng of the d iv ine ma y be

achieved. To flag or fail in that task is to injure God.

So, in his natu ral , inst inctual self, the chi ld is comfortable w i t h those

deep places where later ego w i l l fear to tread. Rilke describes this descent int o ou r ow n nature: "L ov in gly , he descends in to the ancestral

b l o o d , to canyons where the Fr ight ful may be found, turgid w i t h F a

thers, where even T error kn ew h i m , w i n k e d at h i m . "

Several matters of note are found here. Drawn by love, the unfet

tered eros o f nature n a t u r i n g , becoming itself, the chi ld visits the places

where, accord ing to m y translation, he swim s i n the p r i ma l b lo o d , where

the feared presence is faced and is no longer feared. Once in Z u r i c h ,

just before I spent my f irst internship on a locked psychiatr ic ward, I

expressed m y beginner 's app rehensi on. M y analyst repl ied , " W h e n y o u

have faced your terrors, the demons of others won't terr ify you." Im

mediately I knew the wisdom of his remark and real ized I feared less

the vio lenc e there tha n the loss o f the tether to com forta ble sanity. If I

c oul d let go o f that tether, I wo u ld be able to be present to those " a n i

m a l forms" that haunted the pat ients and treat them as famil iar .

O n e p u zzl i n g note arises w i t h Rilke 's dep ict io n o f th e pr im a l r a v ine

as glutted w i t h the fathers. Th is puz zle m ay be his acknow ledgm ent of

the inaccessibility of the father energy to help him compensate for the

power of that devouring mother, or it may be that the "fathers" here

represent the tel lu ric powers of o ld Ch ro no s, generative bu t d estruc

t ive , and i n t im e plow ed und er as wel l . T i m e is u n ki nd ly even to gods.W e take special note of how the Fearful seems t o k now t h e y out h ,

a n d winks at h i m . W e recall that the etym olog y o f numinous suggests

s o m e t h i n g w h i c h i s n o d d i n g t o w a r d u s — s o m e t h i n g t h a t seeks us,

know s us , sol ici ts ou r mind fulness , an d invites ou r com plic i ty . H o w




many times have we had dream figures whom we do not know con

sciously but feel we somehow know, or those anonymous figures who

seem to know us? We recall Jung's subjective, synthetic approach to

dreams and his idea that the various parts of the dream, the personi

fied energies, are parts of us. We are led to conclude that there is somesuperordinate reality, what Jung called the Self, which knows us, cre

ates the dream, and synthesizes so many disparate elements into a dra

m a t i c whole. W h e n we are in the presence of that large wisdom, such

as when we revere and dialogue w i t h our dreams, we are in the pres

ence of the transcendent whose name and nature are unknown but

whose reality is palpable. Who could doubt the presence of the gods

w h e n one has been vouchsafed visions of eternity through the lineaments of the literal? Or as Rilke muses, "Why should he not love what

looked lovingly at him?"

H o w could we not love that which nods at us and beckons us to be

restored to wholeness? Even before his mother, he had loved this w o r l d ,

this cosmos from w h i c h he s p r un g, " l o n g before, while you carried h i m

i n the womb, that dissolved the cosmos, which wafted the embryo so

l ightly."

Surely the deepest wound o f this w o r ld we inhabit is to feel uprooted

from our divine b e g i n n i n g . It is one t h i n g to wander as a hungry spi r i t ,

as we do; it is something worse to have forgotten that we carry the sa

cred energy w i t h i n us, and are present to it, wheresoever we are. As

transient beings we are nonetheless the carriers of the eternal. How

powerful is Rilke's endorsement of this journey: "See, we do not love

as the flowers do, for a single year, for a timeless liquor flows through

o u r arms."

A s hackneyed as the word love is, as jaded as the word God or the

phrase "have a nice day," we are st i l l obliged to use t h e m . What Rilke is

cal l ing love is surely the toughest, most resilient energy in the cosmos,

the energy w h i c h survives and is manifest in endlessly diverse ways to

all the senses. This love is the eros which seeks connection, the desire

w h i c h drives life in the face of the seductive terrors o f the abyss. We err

to t h i n k such a force reserved for only one person, our magical part

ner, our erotic Doppelgdnger. It is expended as well on "seething m u l t i

tudes" and "the fathers l y i n g in our depths." A l l of this ancient drama




has preceded the pas de deux we call love, w hi ch our cul ture is dr iven

to both venerate and narrow to mere venery or sexual indulgence be

cause i t kno ws itself im po ver ish ed by the loss of the gods.

T h u s , the beloved is the recipien t, certainly, of po we rful energies,

bu t h o w w o u l d sh e have surm ised "what archa ic hours you st i r in yourlove r" or "wh at feelings arise out of ancient being"? H o w deeply m ov ed

w o u l d we be i f we were to perceive s uch an ancient d ram a not o nly in

us but i n the other as well? H o w m uc h more cou ld we love them i f we

saw the inv is ible h istor ies that moved in and throu gh them? H o w could

we then lead th em "nearer to Ed en ," that place of begin nin gs, depa r

tures, losses, and wi stfu l reminiscences? W h at cou ld we see i n the other,

what m ystery, what wo rth y history, w o u ld open u p the glottal stops o fo u r hearts and al low us to bestow o n th em that w hi ch "van quish es the

heavy nights"?

W i t h Rilke we see the f ine fusion of eros and logos, the deep yearn

in g to connect w i t h the delicate differentiat ion o f la ng ua ge to su m m o n ,

to i n t i m a t e , but not to define or close off. W h e n we gloss this poem, as

I have, we have not u nd erstood i t , or cont a ined i t , for i t continues to

o w n us and remains e lus ive. O ne does not con ta in the div i ne. I t m a ni

fests, abides a wh ile, an d depa rts, leavin g but a trace, th ro ug h the art i

facts of consciousness which sought to retain and possess i t .

In this t h i r d elegy Ri lke has sum m on ed the h ighest, most my ster i

ous energies, which we often subsume under the appellation love. A s

E ros was a go d , he was no t to be def ined . H e nod s at us, moves th rou gh

us, and the n, at his w h i m , leaves us. H e is no t to be rest rain ed , for he is

o f the godly ones. Rilke's gift is to bring us to a place where Eros is

g l i m p s e d , a l o n g w i t h a l l the d ec l iv i t ies in wh ich he abides . W e cannot

r e m a i n , bu t it is a great gift to have been afforded a m om en t there.

Why Are We Sojourners on This Earth?

In the n i n t h of his Duino Elegies, begun i n 1912 but not con clud ed u n

t i l 1922, the year o f E l io t 's "T h e W a ste L a n d, " R i l ke asks a n o t h e r i m

mense question, namely, why are we here on this spinning earth?

The m agnif icent n i n t h elegy begins w i t h the que st ion, " W h y ? " W h y




i n this interlude o f grace w h i c h we call our lives are we human? Human

beings, doomed to die, are cursed and/or blessed w i t h consciousness,

yet cl ing fervently to their mortal fates. The word Frist often suggests

the n o t i o n of "grace," even in the ordinary sense of a grace period, a

m o m e n t of granted time. Grace we know is something given, somet h i n g lent, not something earned. Dylan Thomas alluded to the same

gift of time in his famous poem "Fern H i l l , " where he notes that Time

allows us but "a few tuneful turnings / before the c h i l d r e n , green and

gol d e n , follow him out of grace."9 So we are here only a fleeting mo

m e n t , graced by the gods, given consciousness (Promethean burden

as that is), yearning for love and for u n i o n , and tasked w i t h l i m i t e d

powers to transcend a certain fate. W h y , then, are we here?N o t for happiness, Rilke concludes, which itself is so fleeting, so

un c e r t a i n , so unretainable. Nor for simple curiosity, though such has

led us to the depths of the oceans, to interstellar space, and to the ex

p lo r a t i o n of our own l a b y r i n t h i a n minds. Nor simply as disc ip l ine for

the heart, for we know that the heart may grow sated, break in pain,

a n d prove as much the agent of trickery as our cunning and divided

m i n d s .

Rilke comes to a stunning conclus ion. W e are here because "this fleet

in g w o r l d " apparently needs us, we who are paradoxically, "the most

fleeting o f all." Each of us is here to observe, to bear witness to all things,

i f only once, and no more. This, our c o n d i t i o n , too, is our task.

A n d we, also, only once. And never again. But to have been here

once, if only for this once, to have been on this earth once, seems

i m m u t a b l e . 1 0

W e are here, he suggests, to complete some purpose in the cosmos, a

purpose which has nothing to do w i t h our own w i l l or hybris. We are

here to help creation by being the agent of its consciousness. This is an

idea that Jung also reached via a quite different route. In his controver

sial work Answer to Job, Jung argued that Yahweh needed humans to

carry the task of H i s consciousness, His conscience, and His own evo

l u t i o n . " At first glance Jung's argument sounds preposterous, certainly

a n t h r op oc e n t r i c , and hybristic. Moreover, Jung's argumentative acu-




m e n in Answer to Job would make a believer squirm. He shows the

c o n tra d ic t io n s in Yahweh's own statements; he demonstrates the lack

o f m o r a l development o f those positions; and he cries out on behal f o f

h u m a n suffering and injustice in questioning whether such a deity is

w o r t h y of w o rsh ip . Jung was no fool and later in d ic a te d that he wishedhe had changed every reference to God to the god-imago. He knew well

enough to leave the arguments for God to the philosophers of re l ig ion

a n d the credos to persons of faith. He was more interested in showing

the evolution of h u m a n consciousness, which is what he meant by the

e v o l v in g god-imago. The imago Dei, he argued, tells us much about an

i n d i v i d u a l or a culture and very little about the W h o l l y Other.

Rilke is no fool either, and he asserts that our raison d'etre lies ino u r capacity for growth as agents of consciousness. By each person

b e c o m i n g more conscious, the cosmos gains consciousness.

B u t the capacity for consciousness is no sure t h i n g . Of what, really,

ca n we become conscious? Isolated facts here and there, occasional

patterns, and rarely, deep intimations of the divine through dreams,

v i s io n s , art, and mythologies. We keep trying to catch and h o l d what

seems so f leeting, "we try to possess, to hold l ight ly i n our simple hands,

w i t h our stupefied gaze, our tongueless heart. W i s h i n g to become it,

yet to whom may we pass it on? Though we long to h o ld on to it forever."

O u r brains are feeble tools in the face of complexity and immen

sity. Our sight is sated, our hearts rendered dumb and inart iculate . We

w i s h to merge w i t h the flow, to become it, and it passes by us. A n d what

are we to do w i t h what we perceive, to whom do we give it , that which

we can so scarcely retain? W i t h o u t the tools of metaphor and symbol

we would have precious l i tt le to say, for they allow us to talk about that

about which we cannot talk.

A n d what can be taken w i t h us into the darker kingdom? What sur

vives us? We cannot, Rilke asserts, take w i t h us what we saw. We can

take n o t h i n g which we have achieved here. What golden bough do we

have to allow us to visit that darker kingdom and return? We carry thel on g lessons o f love , the capacity to care about something or someone,

b u t even that may pass, and certainly the spinning planets and stately

stars are fixed i n their orbits whether we raise a tumult or pass quietly

into nothingness. (Recall Edward Hirsch's lines cited earlier, "Stars are




the whit e tears of noth ingness. / N oth ingn ess grieves over the di sinte

grat ing gods.")

Perhaps our place or vocation here is not unlike that of the moun

ta in traveler who returns to the val ley and speaks the name of some

new f lower seen, some gentian to bring as a souvenir and tal isman ofthe ascent taken. But the key here, Rilke says, is in the saying. Here he

echoes the H ebrew im ag ina t ion in Genesis w hi ch analogizes the m ys

tery of creativi ty in Go d's cap acity to speak. W i t h the wo rd spoken, the

t h i n g arises out of chaos into being: "perhaps we are here in order to

speak, t o p r o n o u n c e house, bridge, fountain, gate, pitcher, fruit-tree,

window—a t m o st column, tower. Bu t to speak, u n de rs ta n d , o h to speak

more intensely than the things themselves could ever atta in . "O u r task is formidable and simple: to bear witness, to assist i n t o

being, to help house, bridge, founta in, gate, pitcher, an d so on exist m ore

intensely than they wo u ld wit ho ut us. In a letter w rit te n in 1925, Ri lke

n ot e d , "E ve n for our grandparents a 'house, ' a 'well, ' a famil iar tower,

their very clothes, their coat, was i nf in itely m ore inti m ate ; a lm ost ev

e r y t h i n g was a vessel i n w hi ch they fou nd what i s hu m an an d added to

the sup ply of w h at is h u m a n . " 1 2 To ad d to the supply of w h a t is h u m a n

is o u r deepest destiny, w hi ch , am id d eath an d transience, br ings joy.

H e r e Ri lke 's exc lamatory joy is conta ined in the O zu sagen, " O h to

speak!" W h a t jo y ! H e re R i l k e e ch oe s th e se c o n da ry im a g in a t io n o f

w h i c h C o l e r idg e w ro te , the e ch o o f th e p r im a l " I A m th a t I A m " o f

Yahweh. Here we are co-creators w i t h th e C re a to r—h u m bl e se rv a n ts ,

but partners in creation itself . W ha t a vocatus!

W e who are most f leeting are summoned, nonetheless, to this cal l

ing, a ca l l ing w hi ch transpires on ly in the pass ing m om ent but exists

for that moment. Perhaps the f inest love poem I have ever seen was

writ ten b y A r c h i b a l d M ac L ei sh and takes its t it le an d its cue from one

o f Shakespeare's s on ne ts , " N o t M a r b l e N o r G i l d e d M o n u m e n t s . "

Shakespeare, w ri t i n g to his belov ed , "the d ark lad ie " of the sonnets,

w h i c h were w ritt en at the t im e of plague in L o n d o n ,expresses

the hopeth at the im m o rt a l i t y o f h i s w r i t in g w i l l grant co nt in ue d l ife for these

two m ort a l lovers . M ac L eis h denies that h is w ri t i ng w i l l grant any i m

m o r t a l i t y to h im sel f or the beloved.




/ will not speak of the famous beauty of dead women.

I will say the shape of a leaf la y once on your hair.

Till the world ends and the eyes are out and the

mouths broken,

Look! it is there!'3

For M a c L e i s h the recogn ition utterance, m ore exclam ation tha n descrip

t i o n , bestows m ean ing o n that existential m om en t and grants it deep

ened be ing. For M a c L e i s h , fo r Ri lke, as for classical B u d d h i s m , the past

is past and the future is not yet. O n l y this moment exists . As Rilke ex

c la ims, "H ere is the speakable m om en t; here is its ho m e. Speak an d bear

witness. W h i l e the Th in gs themselves are s l ipping away more than ever."

Rilke capitalizes Things, not just because al l nou ns are capita l ized

i n G e r m a n b ut because he wants to accord the things of our w o r l d —

the house , br idge , founta in, gate— mu tual be ing an d to celebrate that

be in g . W e kn ow even m ore than Ri lke d id o f h o w evanescent the things

a r o u n d us are. W e l ive in a plast ic, throwaw ay cu lture, a culture based

o n momentary sensat ion and trans ient tastes. H o w m u c h m o re i m

portant for us, then, than i n 1920, to affirm, to render what is real ami dst

the f leeting mo m ents and d isappear ing things . Th rou gh this a f fi rma

t i o n we come at last to Rilke 's vis ion of why we are here. Put s imply,

t h r o u g h the acts o f consciousness, reverence, mindfulness, and speech,

we are here to praise. W e, the most f leeting, br in g m ean ing in to the

w o r l d through the verbal venues of praise.

Between hammers, our heart persists, as does the tongue between

o u r teeth and st i l l , persist ing , praises.

O u r vocatus is to praise and, by doing so, grant things deeper being

a n d bring consciousness to them. This is very consistent w i t h Jung's

idea of the place of consciousness and our task here.

In Jung's v ie w, h u m a ni t y is a pa r t ne r in t he c on t inu ing inc a r na t io no f B e i n g . B eing spr ings forth f rom the M ystery , f rom inexpl icab le cos

m i c energies—who among us can understand the miraculous nature

o f everyday life, or o f a baby, or of the qu an tu m dynam ics o f the atom?

B u t thr ou gh the act of consciousness, m ind fulness, or what Rilk e calls




pra ise , we br ing mea ning to those transient m om ents . A s Jung w rites ,

"A s far as we can d isc ern , the sole pu rpo se of hu m a n existence is to

k i n d l e a light in the darkness of mere bei ng." H e also writes o f that

partnership w i t h the D i v i n e w h ic h br in gs o u r sp ir i tua l task: "T he m yth

o f the necessary inc arn at i on of G o d . . . can be unders tood as man'screative confrontation w i t h the opposites an d thei r synthesis i n the self,

the w ho le n ess o f h is p e rs o n a l i t y . . . T h a t i s the g o a l . . . w h ic h fi ts m a n

meaningful ly in to the scheme of creatio n an d at the same time confers

m e a n i n g u p o n i t . "1 4

Jung's use of the idea of myth is c lear enough as an expression of

dra m a t ic a l l y rendered values w hi ch activate a nd direct the energies of

the sou l , but such a phrase as "the necessary in ca rn at io n of G o d " m a ystr ike u s a s s t ra n g e . T h e n a m e a n d n a tu re o f th e D iv in e re m a in

shrou ded i n mystery, o f course , and we m ay o nly g l impse the inv is ib le

wh en i t m om ent ar i ly inhabits the v is ible w o r l d . W h a t passes u n n o t i c e d

is not un rea l , but i t depends on hu m an consc iousness to br in g i t full

identity. To th is partnersh ip w i t h the inv is ib le w or ld we br in g recogni

t i o n . The M ystery confers bein g, but the hu m an saying confers mean

ing . T h e w o r l d doe s n o t mean; i t is . W e are the organisms of mea nin g

a n d m a k e o u r c o n t r i b u t i o n through the gif t of consciousness.

R i lke c o u l d have stopped the n i n t h elegy w i t h th is superlat ive i n

sight , bu t he goes further. Th rou gh ou t the Duino Elegieshe invokes an

angel, in the same w a y i n w h i c h M i l t o n invoked the "heavenly muse"

o r P l a to , the d a im o n . R i l ke asks us to "praise this w o rl d to the angel . "

W e are asked to br in g praise to the cosmos. W e cann ot br in g the gift o f

und erstan din g, for there is m uc h w hi ch e ludes o ur petty intel ligence,

n o r can we br i ng only large e m oti on , for there is m uc h whi ch exceeds

our capacity. Rather we are asked to tell the angel of the simple places

a n d sights we have seen, to speak of "the rope-maker in Rome or the

potter along the Nile , " to show "ho w blessed the Th in g can be, an d ho w

guileless." These unremarkable events are most remarkable, for they

s u m m o n mere Things up and out o f the flux into consciousness, where inthey take on enlarged destiny. Remember, Rilke has argued that these

transient Things need us for deeper being than they are otherwise ca

pable : "A n d these transient Things k no w you are pra is ing them . They,

most f leeting, look to us, the most f leeting of all , for redemption. "

L I T E R A R Y I M A G I N I N G S ( 51 )



In this paradox of be ing, w i t h the transience of all things, the soul

longs for permanen ce. H ow ever m om en tar y this l ife we lead, Ri lke an d

Jung suggest t h a t t h e voc a t ion of na m ing, o f pr a is ing , o f b e c om ing

consciou s plays an im men se role in the un fold in g of the cosmos. These

things aro un d us lo ok to us for deliverance fro m obscu rity, from ob loquy, from o b l i v i o n .

L i ke the ascending tones of W agner's "L ieb estod," w hi ch s tretch to

ward eternity, Rilke takes this task one step further i n his con clus io n.

O u r sacred v oca tion is to redeem the earth: "E ar th , is this no t what yo u

desire, i n v i s i b l y . . . ? Is not tran sform atio n your most urgent yearning?"

The tran sforma t ion of the earth comes f ro m the engagement w i t h

consciousness whereby the mysterious stuff o f l i fe is given a spi r itu al

i d e n t i t y thro ugh the exper ience o f me anin g. O u r p a r t i c i p a t i o n in this

partnership is hom eop athi c , for underneath m ater ia l appearances, the

same d i v i n e energies course through us. That energy brings l i fe , to

w h i c h our consciousness br ings meaning.

Yet we an d the earth are part o f a single reality. A n d speak ing to this

ever-evolving earth, Rilke says: " O h believe m e, yo u do not need your

Sp ringtim es to va nq ui sh me aga in, for one, on ly one surfeits the b lo od .

Na melessly, from the be g in n in g , I have been you rs. Yo u are always r ight ,

and y o u r deepest t r u t h is in t im a t e De a t h . "

W e c a n im a gine a s pr ingt im e , w i t h the thru st of l ife from the heavy

earth , bu t can we im agin e no observant consciousness to praise it? W e

k n o w what it means to drive through the spring countryside and see

the red an d blue bursts of wildf lowers . Th e y w i l l be there w i t h or w i t h out us , but i t was ou r consciousness w hi ch nam ed them Ind ian paint

b r u s h a nd b lue b onne t s.

B ut Ri lke turns the matter one step further in suggesting that death

is a h o l y i n s p i r a t i on a nd o ur m os t int im a t e c om pa nio n. Pr ec ise ly b e

cause ou r mo m ents are few an d f inite , precisely because consciousness

is so eas ily annih i lated , the mo me nts of mea nin g wh ich we br i ng to

this place are al l the more precious. It is death which makes meaningposs ible , for without i t there would be only endless repet i t ion and

meaningless choice. W i t h m ortal i ty , choice takes on s ignif icance and

we are oblig ed to discern what m atters. In a letter w ritt en in 1923 Ri lke

clarifies,




I am not saying that we should love death; but we should love life

so generously, so w ith ou t calcula t ion and select ion, that we i n v o l

untar i ly c om e t o inc lud e , a nd t o love d ea t h t o o . . . . O n l y because

we exclude death, when it suddenly enters our thoughts, has it be

com e m ore an d mo re a stranger to us; an d because we have kept ita stranger, it has become ou r en em y. . . . [Death is] ou r fr iend pre

cisely when we most passionately, most vehemently, assent to be

in g here, to l i v ing and w ork in g on earth, to Natu re , to lo ve . 1 5

F r o m Gr e e k m y t h o logy we r ec a ll T i t h on us , wh o was gr a nte d im m or

tal ity, fou nd i t a bor in g bu rd en, an d went to the gods to plead that his

m o r t a l i t y m ig ht be restored. A s a blessing, they granted h i m the po wer

t o d ie a nd , w i t h that power, the capacity, indeed, the necessity for,

m e a n i n g . So D ea th, w h ic h accom panies the baby's cry, w h ic h stands

w a tc h in g at our s ide, and whose imperat ives none can deny, requires

us to become conscious, to become creatures of choice. W e have been

granted mortality that we might have meaning, and have it abundantly.

Rilke concludes this m igh ty n i n t h s y m p h o n y o f praise by aff irming

the power of this m om ent , this rad ical exper ience of presence . "L o o k,

I a m l i v i n g ! " he excla ims. N o t out o f the c h i l d h o o d past, n o r the future

w h i c h may or may not be , but out of this moment . Just as M a c L e i s h

wrote that "the shape o f a leaf lay i n yo ur h a i r . . . L oo k! it is there!" , so

Rilke celebrates this moment where "overwhelming Be ing f loods my

heart ." This moment, this f leet ing moment, is so full , and the more so

because it is f leeting. This fate we have, to be mortal beings and to be

conscious of that mortal ity, also begets ou r dest iny , w hi ch is to br in g

m e a ning int o th e w o r l d , to create a li fe an d a sensibi l ity for wh ic h on ly

t he wo r d praise may suffice.

On the Nam ing of the Gods16

U n l i k e so m u c h o f m o d e r n p s y c h o l o g y , w h i c h h as a b r o g a t ed i t s

im m ense resp on sibi l ity to be present to the large issues o f soul an d

m e a ning a nd w h i c h has reduced hu m an ity to behaviors, cognit ions, a n d

bio c h e m ic a l driv es, Rilk e an d Jung d ared to address the large questio ns.




W h a t can be larger for us tha n love, deat h, an d the divin e? W e see that

Jung and Rilke app roach such mysteries w i t h reverence, a desire to kn ow ,

an awareness o f l i m i t a t i on s , an d , fortunately, w i t h a huge im aginat ive

power. To t u r n away from these large concerns is the failure of nerve; to

take them on is what restores us to our dignity and our destiny.Th e task o f the poet, an d the depth psycholog ist , is to br in g us in to

p r o x i m i t y w i t h the sacred. Th e sacred is on ly kno wa ble thr ou gh expe

r ience and then made mea ningful a nd com m un ica ted by the agencies

of metaphor and symbol. Sometimes the sacred is remarkable for its

absence, som etim es for its an arc hic qua lity, som etim es for its presence

beneath the surface of ordinary experience. For Rilke the naming of

"hou se," "tree," and " f oun t a i n , " was a ho ly event i f sensibi l ity was open

to depth. There are l ines by the German poet Fr iedr ich H o l d e r l i n ,

w h o m Jung frequently cited: "God is near but dif f icult to grasp, but

where d anger lies, fro m there, too , deliverance em erges." 17

A n d it is that

parad ox that St. A ugu stine confessed where we, "un lovely," rush "h eed

lessly am on g the things o f beauty," where the div in e is w i t h us, bu t we

are not w i t h t h e d i v i n e . 1 8 It is the time of the Great In-Between, the

space between W ord s . A s H eidegger descr ibes this spi r i tu al interreg

n u m o f m o d e r n i s m : "It is the tim e of the gods tha t have f led an d of the

god that is com in g. It is the t im e of need, because i t l ies und er a d ou ble

lack and a dou ble No t : the No -m or e of the gods that have f led a nd the

Not-yet of the god that is coming." 1 9

Poetry is not affectation then, nor aesthetic sleight of hand, but a

m e d i a t i o n between hu m an ity and the n u m i n o u s . Jung makes the poet'sc o n t r i b u t i o n clear: "Poets are the first i n thei r t im e to di vi ne the d ar kly

m o v i n g , mysterious currents, an d to express them accord ing to the l i m

its of t h e i r c a pa c i t y in m or e or less s pe a k ing s y m b ols . Th e y m a k e

k n o w n , l ike true prophets, the deep motions of the collect ive uncon

sciou s, 'the wil l o f G o d ' . . . w h i c h , i n the course o f t i m e , m us t ine v i t a

bly come to the surface as a general phenomenon." 2 0

Just as the drea m synthesizes ma terials u n k n o w n to consciousness,and t h e i n t u i t i v e f u n c t i o n accesses d i m e n s i o n s o f r e a l i t y b e y o n d

thought and sensat ion, so the poetic sensibil ity discerns the deepest

need an d bring s forth images to speak the unspeaka ble, an d to rend er

the inv is ible w o rl d accessible.




Reference to a few of Rilke's shorter poems may i llustrate this ca

pacity of the archetypal imaginat ion to "name the gods" b y p r o v i d i n g

images w h i c h l in k us once again to the numinous.

J Find You in All These Things

I find You in all these things,

to which I am a brother in all,

in which minuscule seed you minutely hide yourself

and in the Great, you greatly reveal yourself.

This wondrous gameofpowerwhich unfolds itself in submission:

stretching through th e roots, thickening in the trunks,

and resurrecting through th e treetops.2

'

In the or ig ina l Ri lke uses the lowercase dich (you rather than You ), and

though one may translate that word as Lord, Rilke may be even more

subtle. He does not nam e this god direct ly , thou gh we sense the godlycoursing through nature. A l l things pulse w i t h this li fe; in the d orm an t

seed the divine sleeps; and through the vastness the Vast reveals itself.

In this manifestat ion of power Ri lke f inds the paradox of submiss ion.

The highest is found in the lowest root, and he distantly alludes to the

submiss ion of Christ on the tree of Golgo tha , the humble servant w h o

rises from the dead.

W h i l e Rilke could not personally express a Chri st ia n credo, he could

appeal to that tradit ion and certainly did evoke the archetypal pattern

o f the vegetative god which runs through Adonis to Tammuz to Os ir i s

to Dionysus to Christ . Under the weight of inst i tut io ns , under the en

crustat ion of dogma and r i tua l , R i lke recovers wonder and reinst i tutes

the wisdom of Hermes Trismegistus: that things above are copies of

things below a nd throu gh the archetypal image the gods brin g the t ime

less into our t ime.

Ri lke l ived in the t ime between the no-more and the not-yet . As a

poet he knew that we always l ive in the space between words, but as a

modern he also kne w that we live in the space between W o r d s . H i s p o e m




" L a m e n t " expresses the sense of loss and the pathos o f longi ng w hi ch

we a ll feel: "E ve ry th in g is far a nd lo ng gone by. I th in k that the star glit

ter ing above me has been dead for a m i l l i o n years."22

The transient things of our l ives have left us: places, friends, loved

ones. U p o n what d o we place our fa ith, from what m etaphysical ben chm a rk m a y w e find our place, chart our course? Even the star above us

has lo ng ago b l i n k e d off a n d the distance is so vast the news has not yet

reached us. It is note wo rthy that ou r wo rd desire refers to the mariner's

star by w hi ch a course is charted . The loss of the gui d in g star means

we are unab le to find the shore we seek. Ri l ke says that he w ou ld l ike to

"step o ut o f m y heart," bu t he cann ot sacrifice h is s p i r i t u a l pa in lest he

lose who he is in the process. He says he "would l ike to pray," but towhom ? As he looks through the vast night w i t h all its dark holes wait

i n g to suck us i n , he nonetheless believes t hat one of those stars still

f lames alive. H e conclu de s: "I believe I kn ow w h i c h one alone endures,

w h i c h one, at the end of its rays, still stands l ike a W h i t e C i t y . " 2 3

W h a t a wond erful rendering of the mod ernist con d it io n— the sense

o f a past unretrievable, a future uni m agin able, and the need to contin ue

one's journey w ith out guidance. W hat a wond erful sum mo ns to the

existential risk and trust in the supportive cosmos in his evocation of

that white c ity w h i c h stands, sti l l , at the end of i ts inf initely lon g beam .

In the lyri c " A u t u m n , " Ri lke nom inate s not o nly a season o f the soil

but a season of the sou l as we ll. Th is seems fitting, since we live in the

w a n i n g days of some large history but cannot yet gl impse the rebirth

w h i c h w i l l sprin g forth later. H e analogizes the fa l l ing au tu m na l leaves

w i t h the fading of distant gardens in the sky. The loss is Edenic, taking

from us not only the recent summer but also the fabled garden of i n

nocence. A n d throu gh the cosm ic nig ht the earth, too, is fa l l ing:

All of us are falling. See this hand now fall.

And now see the others; it is part of all.

And still there is one who in his hands gently

Holds this falling endlessly.24




N o t i c e that Rilke does not name this god. It is not Baal, or Yahweh, or

any of the m i l l i o n deities w h i c h have been reified and have disappeared

from this planet. He anthropomorphizes this power through the im

age of gentle hands, hands which h o l d us eternally, even as we fall

t h r o u g h time and space. Naming the god is to define and control it.Rilk e is a most religious poet for he is able to evoke the divine, i n t i

mate the numinous, and yet allow it to remain as it is—mysterious,

elusive, Other.

A n d for the last example, I turn to the poem w h i c h expresses its thesis

in its first l ine: "Now is the time when the Gods emerge / from occu

p i e d Things."2 5 As we have seen before, the Things of this world are

not inanimate to the poet; each throbs w i t h life and carries the i m p r i n to f the gods on its frail form. We recall Jung ascribing d i v i n i t y to those

events which crossed his path and violently overturned ego's intent,

a n d Rilke asserts that they "overthrew every wall in my house." 26 It is

often difficult to accept that the Divine W i l l may not be concordant

w i t h our o w n , that the path for w h i c h we are intended is not that w h i c h

we would have chosen. I recall an analyst in Z u r i c h asking w h i c h mem

ber of our small group had chosen to be there; no one repl ied. W h o , heasked, had no choice but to be there, and all nodded assent.

N o t only do we flee the disruptive powers of the gods, we tend to

s h u n the invitation to enlargement which such encounters invite. In

every visitation to the swamplands of the soul there is a task for the

enlargement of consciousness, whether we w i l l it or not. And Jung re

m i n d e d us to flee these invitations at our peri l . O e d i p u s , who was the

smartest man in Thebes, knew not himself, and that of w h i c h he was

un c on s c i ous led to the fulfillment of the oracles. " W h e n an inner s i tu

at io n is not made conscious, it happens outside as fate," Jung writes.

Elsewhere he argues that genuine encounters w i t h the Self, or w i t h the

gods, as Rilke would have it , are usually suffered as defeats by the ego.27

Rilk e evokes those gods, calls forth the unnameable ones: "Oh you

G o d s , who once came often, but now slumber in Things." 2 8

For the animistic world of our ancestors, nature was charged w i t h

soul-stuff. The trees, the streams, the animal life was d i v i n i t y itself, in

all its manifold forms—fearful, joyous, always profound. In de-souling

nature, we gained greater manipulation of the material w o r l d , but at

L I T E R A R Y I M A G I N I N G S (57)



the loss of m ean ing ful relat ion to it. Rilk e kn ow s that the gods have n ot

left; they have gone u nd ergrou nd and wai t to be resum m oned from the

w o r l d of T hings : "Aga in i t i s your rebi rth , Go ds . W e on ly repeat things.

But you are the primal source. The world arises from you, and these

beginnings gl isten through the crevices of all our fai lures."2 9

The recovery of spir i tu al i ty in our t im e w i l l not l ike ly come from

the rev iv ic at io n of someone else's experience, for experience is seldom

i f ever transferred. It w i l l come through our capaci ty to open to radi

cal experience (from the word radix, or "root" exper ience) , whether

t h r o u g h our encounters w i t h nature, each other, or the insurgencies

o f ou r ow n psyches. Rilk e rem ind s us that the gods alon e are the source

o f the renewal o f mea nin g. Recal l that we are using the w or d gods hereto describe those images which r ise spontaneously out of depth en

counters. W hatever m etaphysical status they m ay have is another ques

t i o n , but that they are psych ologi cal ly co m pe ll in g is irrefragable. O u r

failure is the failure of the i m a g i n a t i o n . Ra cism or bigo try is the fai lure

o f i m a g i n a t i o n , t he p ow e r t o i m a ge t h e w or l d w h i c h t he O t h e r e m

bod ies. O u r fai lure is to have traded the experience of the div ine for

the fantasy of co ntro l .

This dec is ion, made centur ies ago, and re informed by most conte m

po ra ry theologies a nd al l ego-based psychologies, requ ired the gods to

g o u n d e r g r o u n d a n d r e m a i n w i t h i n our unconscious , to emerge in

projecti ons, add ict io ns, an d sociopathies. But the gods are not dea d.

Nietzsche was, l ike Rilk e , a m a n o f r a d i c a l faith wh en i n the ninet eenth

century he announced the death of God. He cared enough about the

quest ions of meaning to denounce the encapsulat ion of the gods in

steri le r i te and dogma. But he knew that the v ital i ty of the div ine was

to be fou nd elsewhere. H e kne w the trut h of those lines o f Yeats: "W ha t

ever f lames upon the night / Man's own resinous heart has fed." 3 0

T h r o u g h the powers o f the archetypal i ma g i n a t i o n , allied w i t h logos,

w h i c h brings consciousness, su ch philosophe rs and poets have kept the

gods al ive by retai nin g a respectful h u m il it y before the M ystery, an d

by finding images whose power br in gs us in to p ro xi m it y w i t h the

n u m i n o u s and compels a new encounter w i t h the d iv ine .




C H A P T E R 3

c^ncamational (^maqinin^s

The Painter ' s Eye on E t e r n i t y

Primordial experiences rendfrom top to bottom th e cur

tain upon which is paintedthepicture of an ordered

world andallows a glimpse into the unfathomable abyss

of the unborn and of things yet to be. Is it a vision of

other worlds, or of th e darkness of the spirit, or of the

primal beginnings of the human psyche?

— C . G. Jung

A Critical Place to Stand


beyond our grasp. The l a te-nineteenth-century art cr i t ic W alter Pater

once observed that al l art aspires to the c o n d i t i o n of m u s i c . I believe

he meant by this that music is an inherent , natu ral exper ience w hi ch

has no content per se, that i s , denotated m ean ing , thou gh it does have

f o r m , r h y t h m , and progress ion. By asp ir in g to the c o n d i t i o n of m u s i c ,

art then transcends the tyra nn y of ideology, the popular i ty of an idea,

or the need to un derst an d it. A s that great A m e r i c a n p h i l os op h e r L o ui s

A r m s t r o n g once observed, if y o u have to have jazz expla ined to you,

y o u w i l l never k n o w w h at it means.

No netheless, in aspir in g to the c o n d i t i o n of m u s i c , the arts i n e v i t a

b ly e m p l o y "language" that is gene rally referentia l , or connotat ive , and

motifs that are ident i f iable by consciousness. I s h ou l d li k e to s u m m a

rize briefly the perspectives and the pitfalls of any analysis of the arts.



A R T A S I D E A

M a n y forms of art emp loy an ide a, as we just saw i n Rilke's con tem pla

t ion of love and death. But we do not read a work of art to get a new

idea . The idea of a novel or play wil l s i m p l y co m e d o w n t o a t r u i s m :

"we love and are betrayed," or "we l on g for me an ing ," or " i n the end wedie." A s H em ing wa y once observed, i f the hero does not die in the end ,

the auth or sim ply di d not f inish the story. A n d wha t i f the idea that

fuels a w or k o f art is one w i t h w h i c h we disagree? A re we then to thro w

the entire work away? I f one is not m ov ed to ide olog ical an d affective

c o m p l ia n c e w i t h m e d i e v a l C a t h o l i c i s m , sh o u l d D a n te's Commedia be

discarded? Surely there is more to a work of art than the idea which

spawned i t , a n ide a w h ic h m a y itself be com m onpla ce, even i n an o r i g i

nal aesthetic expression.

A R T A S F O R M

I was edu cated in the era of the New Cri t ic i sm, which argued that the idea

of a work of art was essentially irrelevant and that the work manifests a

series of structures, rhetorics, and agencies such as m etaphor, sym bo l, or

irony. The analysis of the work of art was essentially the analysis of the

craft of art, irrespective of its cultural Sitz im Leben or its ideology. In these

later days o f deconstructionism we are told that the wo rk o f art is always

a Rorschach reflection of its creator, inev ita bly revealing class, gender, and

other biases. In neither a pproach to the arts do we find ourselves address

ing why we are moved by art or how it deepens our journey.

A R T A S R E L A T I O N S H I P T O N A T U R E

A s one examines the history of the arts, v isual , l i terary, and musical ,

over the last two centuries, one sees a progressive decl ine in the i m

portance of id eology for sure, but even m ore o f a shif t in our rela tio n

ship to nature. Co nsid er p a i n t i n g , for examp le. In the early nineteent h

century Jacques L o u i s D a v i d m i g ht still be su m m o n e d to de p ict a h i s

tor ic event , such as the crow nin g of N ap ole on . The B arb izo n schoolcertainly de picted the richness of na ture, bu t one begins to see a loos

e n i n g of the l ine and a gro wi ng fuzziness o f color in those forests and

fields. In Joseph Turn er we see the ant ic i pat ion of im press ion ism .

F o r the impressionists, the object is no longer paramount. L ight is




their subject, light as it is reflected and refracted from surfaces—water,

l i l ies, colorful attire. Q u i c k l y they are followed by the expressionists,

whose painting celebrated the emotions occasioned by their subjects;

the point i l l i sts , who see even the light as a series of l u m i n o u s points;

the cubists, who see constituent shapes only, interesting in and forthemselves; the vorticists , who celebrate energy itself; and the abstract

ion is ts , in whose art the object disappears altogether. This history of

m o d e r n art shows that art progressively becomes the subject of art. The

object, whose representation may be better approached by photog

raphy, ceases to be the subject. There has been, in a d d i t i o n , the disso

l u t i o n of the metaphysical grounding of objects from the combined

perspectives of Kant and quantum physics.

A R T A S P S Y C H E ' S C H I L D

M y first exposure to the psychological cr i t i c i sm of art came from the

neo-Freudians, and I found their work to be reduct ionis t ic and in ser

vice to privileged ideologies. M u c h Jungian cr i t i c i sm has suffered from

the same r e du c t i o n i s m. Even when Jung himsel f ventured into the cri t i

cism of art, as in his essays on Joyce's Ulysses and Picasso, he might better

have not written at all.

W h e n asked the question " O n what crit ical ground are we to stand?",

I feel obliged to say that I value the partial truths o f vi r tua l ly every c r i t i

cal approach there is. However, when I reflect on why I have valued psy

chology but loved art, why I find the arts a more reliable guide to human

history, behavior, and hidden motive than may be found in books of

psychology, I am driven to confess a personal bias. I find myself treasur

ing that which stirs my i ma g i n a t i o n , moves me deeply, and opens me to

enlarged vision, no matter how or in what fashion this may be done.

W h e n we are in the presence of art that does all these things, we find, in

James H i l l m a n ' s words, "There is no end to depth , and all things become

soul."1

1 find myself treasuring that art which brings me into proximity

w i t h the gods. Here again, H i l l m a n reminds us what is meant by that

term gods: "In archetypal psychology gods are imagined . . . They are

formulated ambiguously, as metaphors for modes of experience and as

n u m i n o u s borderline persons. They are cosmic perspectives in which

the soul participates."2

I N C A R N A T I O N A L I M A G I N I N G S ( 6l )



So, what moves us is the encounter w i t h the depths, w i t h the godly,

whether consciously processed or n ot . A n d what moves us most deeply

is something which we are also, otherwise we remain indifferent to it.

The p r i n c i p le of resonance is cr i t i ca l here, for resonance tells us what

is true for us, or what moves us. Resonance is not created by an act ofw i l l ; it is experienced autonomously, the s t i r r ing of " l i ke to l ike," the

t h r u m of the tuning fork inside of us. Such experience, as Plato noted

l o n g ago in his dialogue called The Meno, is always re-cognition, the

r e - m e m b e r i n g of some lost wholeness as we encounter its numinous

parts. This cr i t i ca l place to stand, that all art is psyche's c h i l d , is itself

a metaphor, of course, but it acknowledges the power of the arche

t y p a l imagination to move us and to bring us into p r o x i m i t y w i t h our

source. Once again, H i l l m a n : " W i t h i n the metaphorical perspective,

w i t h i n the imaginal field, nothing is more sure than the soul's own

a c t i v i t y . . . . Thus the soul finds psyche everywhere, recognizes itself i n

a ll things, all things providing psychological reflection. And the soul

accepts itself i n the mythical enactments as one more such metaphor.

M o r e real than itself, more ultimate than its psychic metaphor, there

is nothing." 3

In sum, our cr i t i ca l place on which to stand depends itself o n meta

p h or . To recall that all standpoints are metaphors is to be saved from

l i tera l i sm, from ideological idolatry , and from the fundamentalism of

that psychosis which confuses objects w i t h their names. The stand

p o i n t , then, is the metaphor of soul which allows us to be moved by

the gods, those powers who are themselves metaphors. Retaining our

abi l i ty to reflect on metaphor allows us to accept the autonomy of the

mysteries and to remain open to their unpredictable v is i tat ions . So, all

we can say in the presence of art which moves us is that we have been

vis ited by the gods, with metaphor as the tangible trace o f the encounter.

The Metarealism of Meaning

In speaking on several occasions to the R i c h m o n d , V i r g i n i a , Jungian

society, I have had the privilege of staying in the home of Nancy W i t t ,

one o f the group's founders, i n A s h l a n d , V i r g i n i a . Nancy lives in a nine-




teenth-century m i l l , over a stream an d a waterwh eel , beside a po n d , in

some of the most h is tor ic land of our nat ion.

W h e n I f i r s t v i s i t e d R i c h m on d a n d w a l k e d i n t o t h a t m i l l , I was

stunn ed by the thirt y-p lus pain tings that l ine the spacious wal ls o f tw o

floors and create n ot on l y a m us e um effect bu t also a san ctua ry forme di t a t i o n and reflection. Nancy has created a body of work over the

last twenty-some years which incarnates a deeply rel igious and arche

t y p a l vis ion of eternity. Her favorite cr i t ica l rev iew came from an un

lettered man who was helping unload her paintings for display at a

conference in New H am psh ire. This hotel worker went about an d gath

ered other employees, and she overheard him say to t h e m , " C o m e , y o u

have to see these paintings. They are rel igious!" So, I say to you, comesee these paintings; they are rel igious.

W e are all fam iliar w i t h the mom ent wh en pai nt in g d iscovered psy

choanalys is and prod uced surreal i sm. I have always been drawn to the

work of Rene Magr i t te and Salvador D a l i . A l t h ou gh w e m a y n ot p r o

fess to understand their work, the art speaks to that part of our souls

whence our dreams emanate. W i t h i n the painter 's frame, famil iar ob

jects are m elted , dis-lo cat ed, or di stort ed int o affectively charged states.

W e w i l l be just as comfortab le or unco m fortab le w i t h their work as we

are w i t h our own dream l i fe . The capacity of the ego to accept ambi

guity is central to emotional maturity. In fact , how we can hold what I

call the tr iple A ' s— am bigu ity , ambivalence , and an xiet y— in tens ion i s

a test of ou r psychic strength, w hi ch can even be reflected in our aes

thetic tastes. Those who say, " I know what I l ike," are really saying, "I

like what I know." Thus, the surrealists are celebrated because we all

in tu i t that they are on to something, that they are reflecting something

very deep w i t h i n ou r t ime an d ou r psyches, even as they are r id ic ul ed ,

even revi led , as a means o f keeping their v is itat ions to the un d erw or ld

at a safe distance.

N a n c y W i t t describes h erself as a "m etarea list," however. P erhaps the

best way to understand this term is to think of Kafka, that compatriot

o f Ri lke , w h o , w i t h his strange para bol ic stories, novels , and aph orism s,

stood, according to Auden, in re lat ionship to our troubled t imes as

D ante s tood as the chie f v is io nary of h is . W he n yo u th in k of Kafka 's

stories, they are eminently ratiocinative and realistic, once you accept

I N C A R N A T I O N A L I M A G I N I N G S ( 63 )



an emotio nal premise . For example, i n "M eta m orp hosi s , " once we ac

cept that Gregor Samsa can be transform ed into an insect, a meta phor

for radical depersonal izat ion, a l l else flows logically and sequentially.

O r once we accept that we may be guil ty wit hou t having done anyt hing,

that life is neither fair no r rat ion al, then we m ay share Joseph K.'s searchfor clarity and just ice with both sympathy and detachment.

Kafka, in my view, is a metarealist, for he takes or d i n a r y events a n d

turns them ever so sl ightly so that we are obliged to questio n wha t real

i ty may be. Often we are left in the position of not knowing what the

reality may be, for it has been called int o pro fou nd que stion. The fam iliar

lens thr ou gh w hi ch we see the wo rld has been tu rne d a few degrees, a n d

while the world remains recognizable, it is no longer familiar, safe, orpredictable. W hi le the impact o f Kafka's v i s io n was often d istu rbin g,

even ch i l l ing , it was i n fact exceeded by the surreal ism of European his

tory in the twentieth century.

Na ncy W itt ' s metareali sm has to do wi th open ing o ur eyes to see

through the ordin ary phenom enal wo rld into the epiphanic w o r l d , that

is, the world of revelatory v i s i o n . In this sense she is l ike Blake as w e ll —

one w ho said that wh ile ma ny saw on ly a ba ll of go ld in the sky, he saw

the Lord God Almighty and heard ce lest ia l choirs .

Metareal ism is an expression of p r i m o r d i a l experience which then

runs through the aesthetic alembic o f the artist and thereby is ordered.

But i t arises out of a place whi ch ma y be disordered an d chaotic, w hi ch

bespeaks the w i l d precincts of nature. The rending of the curtain al

lows us to see that, behi nd the curt ai n, there is another w or ld of ap

pearances, and behind that another world as wel l . One who is drawn

to do this work has no choice, actually, for as Jung writes, "for all the

freedom of [the artist's] l ife and the clarity of his thought, he is every

where hemmed around and prevai led upon by the Unconscious , the

mysterious god w it hi n h i m , so that ideas f low to him—he knows not

whence, he is driven to work and create—he knows not to what end,

an d is mastered by an im pulse for constant grow th and dev elopm ent—

he knows not whither." 4

N a n c y l a b or s i n h e r s t ud i o every day but Sunday from at least

9:00 A . M . to 5:00 P . M . W h y ? Because she has to. She t old me that she plans

to work in this way u n t i l she dies because there is so l ittle tim e an d so




m any images are cla m or in g for her atte ntio n. She told me that very

rarely has she begun a painting w i t h an idea in m i n d . M or e often she

has si m ply been d ra w n to an object a nd then she begins to see th rou gh

the object to the world s be hi nd it . O r she has a certain "feel ing state"

a n d looks for images which w i l l somehow incarnate that state.I ta lked once w i t h the la te metarea l ist ic pa inter Frank H o w e l l ,

whose heri tage was both S ioux and A n g l o . H e sa id that h is best w ork

seemed to come f rom those moments when some force w i t h i n the

canvas that wa nted to come fort h nud ged aside his o r i g i n a l idea . W h e n

he was able to let go of the ego's idea and g ive form and color to the

emergent energy, he fou nd those were the pain tings wh ic h m ost spoke

to othe r peop le. W h e n I suggested that he was at those m om en ts the

vehic le of the archetypa l im ag in at io n, he sa id that concept had no

m ea nin g to h i m . A s Jung suggested, the art ist i s preva i led u po n by

th e u n c o n sc io u s , a n d ide a s f l o w to h im o r h e r f ro m th e M yste r io u s

O t h e r . He or she is a person dr iven by the gods to work, worry, and

joy in the creative act.

T h e sc u lp to r H e n ry M o o re on c e o bserv ed o f hi s decades of creativ

ity that he had a passion so great that he co uld not chi p it a l l away. W h e n

we recall that passio is L a t i n for "suffering," we understand the suffer

ing w h i c h is i m p l i c i t in a l l creativity. M oreo ver , the artist is mastered

by his or her own need for personal growth, the growth which comes

whe n we attend our in d iv id ua t i on impe rat ive . W e are forever bein g

surprised by what l ies be hin d the next developm enta l d oor. A n d we

are often oblige d to go to places we w o u ld rather not , but to wh ich some

larger power insists we go.

So, N an cy paints every day, a l l day, pr od uc in g a new large pa in tin g

about once a month. She could be watching te lev is ion, or shopping,

but she chooses to be w i t h her muse and to create.

OPENING: R E A L I T Y ' S R E N T C U R T A I N

In this f irst painting, t it led Opening, we see our def init ions of real ityope ned as a cu rta in is open ed. W e see what appears conv ent ion al : a

landscape w i t h earth , and hil ls , and c louds. But in the newly opened

center we glimpse the Mare nostrum, the sea as the pr i m al sym bo l of

the un consci ous itself, trackless, unfath om able, and om nip resen t. A n d

I N C A R N A T I O N A L I M A G I N I N G S ( 6 5 )



Figure 1. O p e n i n g . 1978. Oil on linen. 30"x40".



are those the artist's feet, her standpoint , a t the bottom of the pa int

ing? Is the grou nd u po n wh ich we stand ever f i r m , f ixed, and reliable?

A n d whose hands p u l l aside the fabric o f reality? W e are often m ov ed

by such inv is ible powers whether we k no w i t or not . Ri lke mused on

h o w lovers are moved by deep forces not their own: " U p o n w h at i n s t ru m e n t have we been strung? / A n d in the hands o f what m usic ian

are we held?" 5

O f this paint ing N ancy wrote , "w hen I don ' t have a clear id ea o f what

wants to be painted, I w i l l frequently paint a sky that appeals to me

over water. Usu ally righ t at the shor eline, at the edge— where water an d

l a n d m e e t — I find that i f I watch there long enough something w i l l

appear. It 's where consciousness and the unconscious meet." 6

T h i s description of the creative process might be cal led a form of

active im ag ina t io n. Th is technique so com m on to Jungian parlance is

still often m isun de rstood . Jung d id not mean free a sso cia t io n , m e di ta

t i o n , or guided imagery. Act ive imaginat ion needs to be understood

l i t e r a l ly as the activation of the image, a t e c h n i q u e w h i c h i n v i t e s

Auseinandersetzung or a dialogu e w i t h the u n c o n sc io u s . A c t iv e im a g i

n a t i o n affords the unconscious its own freedom, its own integrity. I t

seeks an expanded consciousness, w h i c h arises out o f an encounter w i t h

the intrapsychic O ther.

N a n c y is describing the encounter w i t h the O ther w hi ch arises out

o f her capacity to rel in qu ish ego con tro l and to al low herself to be ope n

to the mystery. W h e n the objects themselves b egin to speak, wh en the y

begin to unfold themselves, then we are in proper relationship to na

ture, for we are respectful ly a l lo wi ng it i ts auto no m y o f b e i n g . Such an

attitude is essentially religious in character for it relocates the ego in

the presence o f the transce nd ent O t h e r . Th e experience o f the mystery

o f the O ther is phe nom eno logica l , and ou r subsequent consciousness

o f it is epi phe nom eno logi cal ; that is to say, p r i m o r d i a l experience may

lead to the secondary and attendant experience o f consciousness. N an cy

also writes that the " t h i n g " excites l ib ido and she is inv i t ed to a dynam ic

dia logue w i t h i t : "E ven tua lly a dialogu e develops between me a nd the

image, w h i c h grows an d changes in response to what's insid e m y he ad ." 7

W e see here that consciousn ess is no t aban do ned ; it is enlarged an d

still plays a ro le in the in d iv id ua t io n process . A no the r way of saying




this is that fate, or the gods, determ ined that Nancy 's wo rk o f i n d i v i d u

a t i o n w o u l d a r i se o u t o f h e r d ia l o g u e w i th th in g s a n d o u t o f th e

aut ono m y of images w hi ch der ive f rom that dia logue. For other i n d i

viduals the dia logue w i l l arise from dream work, or the complexit ies

o f rela t ionship , or by fo l lowin g their d a i m on , wheresoever it wishes totake them.

The quotidian quest ions we may have about Opening w i l l not be

a n sw e re d . W h a t does i t mean? W hose feet are those? W ho se hands p u l l

back the fabric? Are the male hands allusions to specif ic f igures or ani

mu s att i tudes, in w hi ch case the pa i nt i ng is mo re a l legorica l than sy m

bol ic? A l l we can safely say is that the painting cal ls our conventional

sense of rea l i ty into quest ion. W he n th is re locat ion of rea l i ty occurs ,

we are i n the presence o f the v is iona ry. Simi lar ly , the holograph ic B lake

said one could see eternity in a grain of sand.

The viewer stands on the edge o f th e kn o w n w o r l d a n d stares off

into eternity. As we know, Archimedes once said that i f he had a place

to stand he could move the w o r l d . For the last four centuries the com

m o n grou nd u po n whi ch the W estern wo rld once stood has been erod

i n g . Necessar i ly , the task of meaning ineluctably sh i f ted f rom tr iba l

mythologies , ins t i tut ional form ulatio ns, and conv ention al pieties to the

shoulders of the i n d i v i d u a l . A s th e m yth ic po w e r o f c h u rc h a n d m o n

archy have waned, so the points of reference have disappeared. The

s p i r i t ua l anarchy which fol lows is a ided in part by the capacity of the

artist to nominate a point of reference, and from that point recreate

t he w o r l d . W h i l e Opening suggests that the world is far more mysterious than we might have thought, it also presents us with a fascinating

aperture which takes us into a deeper plane. As we contemplate that

mystery, we sense th a t so m e th in g m a y be c o n te m p l a t in g u s . A s w e

watch, perhaps we are being watched as well .

INSIDE: T H E O B J E C T I F I C A T I O N O F S U B J E C T I V I T Y

In the p a in t in g Inside we see Nancy at her work desk in apparent conte m p l a t io n an d an image o f a tr iangle w i t h i n a circle. W h i l e the artist's

tools are present and the canvas waits, there is no mood for stroke or

figure yet. O n the left o f the canvas we see a hanging l ightbulb, some

t h i n g of a cul tur a l conve ntion for an i l l u m i n a t i o n , but we surmise that




that bulb w i l l end up much more integrated into the f ina l pa int ing,

w h i c h is yet to be do ne. A n d yet we are lo o ki ng at the f inished p ai nt in g

already, are we not?

Th e tria ngu lar shapes, bo th on the canvas w i t h i n the canvas and the

l ig ht ing above the painter, are themselves archetypal, three being thenumber of creative power, of dynamism. But these triangles are also

conta ined by circles, ma ndal ic rounds whi ch im ply closure and com ple

t i o n . O ne remembers the famous a lchem ica l form ula of M a r i a P r o p h -

etissa from the M i d d l e Ages, namely: out of the one comes the two,

and out of the two comes the three, and out of the three comes the

four wh ic h shal l become one. W hat the form ulary suggests is that out

o f the one o f undifferentiated unconsciousness wil l come the two wh ich

beget bo th consciousness an d the spli t t ing o f neurosis . Out o f that split

the reconci l ing t h i r d , which conta ins the opposites , w i l l emerge and

dyn a m ic a l l y spil l over in to the four, w hi ch is the tension o f opposites

evolved to a h igher level. O u t of th is m ore evolved tension o f op po

sites, the po ssib il ity of the new O ne ma y emerge.

T h i s portrait of a portrait , this painter painting herself , is i tself a

part of the trompe I'oeil o f reflectivity. W e reflect u p o n ourselves re

flecting upon ourselves. In this moment the subject seems transf ixed

by a process. She appears captured by the power of the triangle, the

tetragram, the mand ala , and som ething profound is m ov ing in her. A n d

yet Nancy the painter has painted herself in this posit ion, suggesting

not only the awareness of that moment of transf ix ion, but of hav ing

also m oved throu gh it to som ethin g else. H o w ma ny great poems camefrom t he R o m a n t i c p o et s, f ro m " K u b l a K h a n " t o " O d e o n D e j e ct i o n ,"

i n which the poet writes movingly about creative blockage, writes cre

atively about the loss of creativity? Here the painter paints herself , not

paint ing, but being moved toward paint ing. Is i t a pa int ing almost about

p a i n t i n g , then, or is not every painting since the impressionists about

p a i n t i n g itself?

M oreov er, we see that the bo un d ar y o f the paint ing w i t h i n the pain tin g has been framed by the painter. The space in which her subject

contemplates is itself encapsulated as it exists in a realm unto itself ,

w h i c h perhaps it does. W ha t then constitutes the emp ty spaces to the

r ight and left of the capsule? Do they not exist to remind us of the ar-




Figure2. I n s i d e . 1973. Oil on canvas with construction. 42"x 60"



bitrary point of v iew of this art ist , that she has created her own place

o f reference an d that i t l ies not wi th in the confines of the pai nt in g but

w i t h i n the confines o f her psyche, a reality w h ic h greatly transcends

the conscious frame of reference?

A n d last ly, the t i t le of the p ai nt in g, Inside— inside of what? A re weinside the studio, inside the mind of the subject of the painter, inside

the m i n d of the painter herself? A re we insid e always because, as Kant

ins isted, the w or ld i tse l f i s un kno wa ble , and we can on ly prov is ion al ly

kno w what we have experienced inwardly? Kant demolished metaphys

ics by remo vin g the A rchi m ed ean po int of the phi losoph er , thus m ak

ing psychology necessary. Psychology's mo st difficult task then becomes

to reflect upon itself, to not be the disease of what i t is meant to cure,

as W ittgenste in once sa id of phi losophy. Inside reminds us that we are

always insid e, that such is our c o n d i t i o n , al thou gh the w or ld out there

beckons, v is its , e ludes, and confounds.

CAPRON: T H E P R E S E N C E O F T H O S E A B S E N T

A t N a n c y ' s m i l l , t h e r o o m i n w h i c h I stay has the paint ing ent i t led

Capron on the wa l l . A t f irst glance I tho ug ht I saw Fre ud in the back

g r o u n d . U p o n close ins pec tio n I realized that it was a stranger. I learn ed

later that the image of the cou ple stan din g there is taken from a ph oto

o f Nan cy 's paternal grandparents . Th e snapshot p i nn ed to the easel is

a p h ot o o f her father, a nd the setting is the house i n w h ic h they l ived in

the v i l lage of Capron, V i r g i n i a . O f these f igures, N an cy told me, "B o th

m e n were M eth od ist preachers. N ear the end o f his l i fe I went w it h my

Father to visit that area in Southeast V i r g i n i a a n d t ha t h ous e. W h i l e I

was making the painting I noticed that the f ireplace was bricked up.

A bo ut that t ime I learned from an aunt that my Grandfather 'bu rne d

out' long before retirement age. It seemed to me that my Father expe

r ienced something s imilar not long before his death. So i t seemed im

po rta nt that I note that the fire ha d shifted fro m some 'place' elsewhere."8

In the picture the couple seem att i red in c lot hin g w hi ch vaguelyindicates a time and a class, and their attitude seemingly reflects a de

gree o f confidence or at the least n on c h a l a n t f a m i l i a r it y w i t h w h o t h ey

are, perhaps only because of a strong sense of role identity. In front is

a chal ice , wh ich reappears in several of Nancy 's w orks . W hi le the i m -




Figure3- C a p r o n . 1989. Oil on linen. 30" X36".



ages of the pa int ing are heretofore bo th conve nt ion al and high ly per

sonal , we sense that the chalice has a significance which extends be

y o n d the mere representation of a hist oric al ima ge. A t this po in t, as in

the task of drea m int erp reta tio n, we necessari ly differentiate the role

o f personal image, which may more properly be cal led sign, and thato f symbol . The depict ion of the br icked-up f i replace , for example , i s

an al legorical use o f image in a one -to-on e level o f reference. "B loc ke d

fire," so to speak, equals "b loc ke d ' f ire . '"

O b v i o u s l y , the i m p l i c i t reference to blocked fire moves us toward

the a l legor ical and symbol ic when we consider what b lockage i s and

what f ire is . Even without Nancy's identif icat ion of the al legorical use

o f the f ireplace image, we m ight s tum ble toward a no t i on of why theart is t might have em ployed such an image. W e m ight conclud e that

the fires of certain energies are no longer regnant o r avai lable. H o w

ever, w i t h the image of the chalice we in tu i t that we are more properly

in that zone of am bigu ity we call the symbolic. General ly speaking, the

chal ice, whether i t be the lost grai l of medieval legend or the chal ice

crushed beneath the bridegroom's heel , is a vessel w h i c h c on t a in s t h e

sacred. T ha t this chal ice holds a f l ickering f lame suggests t o us a n h o m

age, or at least respect for, the continued power of the ancestral even as

w e m i gh t find i n a Japanese S h i n t o t e m p l e.

W h a t N a n c y W i t t is a t tempting i n Capron i l lustrates the veracity o f

T. S. E l iot 's obse rva tion about history , that i t is not the pastness of the

past w h i c h i s i m p or t a n t , b ut t h e c on t i n ui n g presence of the past. As

therapists w i l l testify, few po wers are m ig ht ier than those w h ic h we call

the parental complexes , which operate more autonomously w i t h i n us

because we are not conscious of t h e m . Th ey are present i n ou r choices

a n d i n o u r sense o f self, and for good or i l l they color ou r int im ate re

lat ionships . Th is ins ight , w hi ch is i llustrated in genograms (used by

therapists to ou tl in e fam il ia l patterns of behavior) an d case histories

a n d in the resonant reservoirs of dream imagery, is hardly new.

Greek m ytho logy a nd tragedy sought to account for the repl icat io n

of famil ial patterns, for the power of inv is ib le cause a n d effect, and for

the occasional madness w h i c h us ur p e d re ason a n d c om m on sense. H o w

c o u l d Oedipus be the carrier of the s ins of the House of Thebes, or

Electra and Orestes the u n w i t t i n g bearers of generations of the H ouse

I N C A R N A T T O N A L I M A G I N I N G S ( 73 )



o f Atreus? They concluded that some histor ic offense to the gods h a d

occasioned a blo od curse , w hi ch r ipple d thr ou gh the generations u n t i l

suffering and penance produced suff ic ient consciousness to achieve

r ight relationship before the gods aga in . H ist ory is not o nly the story

o f the i n d i v i d u a l w rit large, as Em erson a nd C arlyle suggested, but theexfol iat ion and extrapolat ion o f those intrapsy chic imagoes w hi ch Jung

cal led "c o m p l e xe s" a n d w h ic h a re t ra n sm it te d , n o t o n l y th ro u g h o u te r

example and a d m o n i t i o n , but also inv is ib ly through the unconsc ious.

Let me i l lustrate in a quite personal way. O ne sum m er I was inv ited

to speak i n Sto ckholm and Solna , Sweden. W h i l e my ancestry was Swed

ish (m y long-deceased grandfather was nam ed Gustav L in d gre n, and

he had arrived in the N ew W o r l d i n 1900), there was never any talk abou tSweden i n ou r househo ld. Even m y m other had not spoken of her fa

ther, w h o m she never real ly knew because he had died i n a c o a l - m i n i n g

accident whe n she was quite youn g. O n m y f irst night in Sweden, we

went to an ou td oor restaurant for d inner. A t dusk, the audience rose

a nd sang the na tion al anth em as the flag was lowered . A t that m om en t

a powerful voice echoed in my head, saying, "I have come back for yo u."

I w a s s tu n n e d by th i s v o ic e a n d kn e w i t s m e a n in g im m e dia te l y ,

nam ely, that I, the t h i r d generat ion, had return ed hom e for those w ho

h a d be e n u n a bl e to a n d w h o h a d, l ike m o st A m e r ic a n s , n e v e r c o n

sc iously considered the idea . (W hi le studyi ng in Sw itzerland , I learned

that Europeans consider the inf luence of n a t i o n m u c h m o re se rio u s ly

than we of the New W o r l d wh o no t only melted into the nat iona l pot

but also believe that we have invented ourselves by overthrowing the

p re su m e d tyra n n y o f th e past.) M o r e o v e r , w h i l e t r a v e l i n g t h r o u g h

southern Sweden, whence the L indgrens would have c o m e , I h a d n u

merous experiences which could only be descr ibed as dejd vu. I was

further told by m a n y Swedes that I looked, acted, and spoke like a Swede

t h o u g h I spo ke o n l y in E n g l i sh . A l l th i s w as a n d w o u l d re m a in p u z

zl ing a n d i r ra t i o n a l to m e were i t not for one poss ibil ity , nam ely, the

transm iss ion o f the parenta l her i tage th roug h the unco nsc ious.The more we know about our bio logies , the more we learn of our

genetic coding; the more we learn of depth psychology, the more we

discern the movement of the si lent generations w i t h i n us. In el ici t ing

the parent's parents, Nancy W i t t i s in tu i t i v e l y e v o kin g th e m u l t i p l e




generations which are at work w i t h i n h e r ow n c on t e m p or a r y p s y c h o

log ica l reality. Fre ud once ob served that wh en a coup le goes to bed , at

least four others are present, nam ely, the parents as com plexes. W e k n o w

that at least the parents ' parenta l complexes influen ced o u r noti on s of

self, relat ion ship , sexual ity, an d the l ike, so already there are at leastfourteen in bed, and a l l are active.

Jung took the power of such spectral presences very seriously. In an

essay w r i t t e n i n 1919 a n d t i t led, " T h e P s y c h olog i c a l F ou n d a t i o n for t h e

Belief in Spirits," he no ted that we find i n all t radi t ions "a universal belief

i n the ex is tence of phantoms or e thereal be ings who dwel l in the

n e i gh b ou r h o od o f m e n a n d w h o e xe rc is e a n i n v i s i b l e y et p ow e r f u l

influence upon them. These beings are general ly supposed to be spirits or souls of the dea d." 9 O u r predecessors knew what d epth psych ol

ogy has had to rediscover for us: that we l ive s imultaneously in two

worlds , the w orld o f the senses an d the invis ible w o r l d w h i c h is h a un t e d

by spectral presences w h ic h we call complexes, or projections. Jung re

m i n d s us of the power of these presences in his statement that "many

patients feel persecuted by their parents lo ng after they are d ea d ." 1 0 T h e

w o r d w hi ch Jung used to describe ou r experience of these ph eno m ena

was Ergriffenheit, which one may translate as the ego's experience of

being seized or possessed by the power of an other.

Just as the ancients dramatized this possessive power in the tales of

wron ged gods , hybr is t ic patr iarchs , an d hum bled g r a n dc h i ldr e n , so we

seek a different lan gua ge for the same p h e n om e n a . T h us J un g w r i t e s ,

" S p i r i t s . . . v iewed from the psychological angle , are unconscious au

ton om ou s complexes wh ich appear as project ions because they have

no direct associat ion w i t h the ego."" W h en ou r ancestors experienced

such possession by spectral presences, they em ploy ed the meta pho r o f

the loss of sou l . W e use a m ore im po ve rish ed language an d speak o f

neurosis . O u r ancestors recogn ized two forms o f s p i r i t u a l malady: the

loss of sou l an d possession by ma l igna nt spir its . W e m ore vaguely ta lk

o f not feel ing ourselves, for some complex has robbed our energy, or

o f bein g in the grip of a pervasive m o o d for unacc ou nta ble reasons.

O u r p r e sum e d ga i n t h r ough s uc h c l in ica l imagery is at the expense o f

the im ag in al w hi ch moves the heart . A n affectively charged im age, such

as spir it possession, w i l l always touch us more deeply than an ener-

I N C A R N A T T O N A L I M A G I N I N G S ( 7 5 )



v a te d , c l in ica l language which pretends to accuracy but which dean-

imates nature and denudes the gods.

W e have al l experienced this form of possession, or this loss of soul .

It feels uncanny, f r ightening, a l ienat in g, hu m b l in g. Even na t ions can

col lectively experience the loss o f soul , as they are separated fro m th eirpsychic roots, or spirit possession, whe n consciousness is enervated an d

they are at the mercy o f fads, fashions, or m align an t spirits . H ow ever,

the re integra t ion of such energies, whether t hro ug h the tra d it i on al

powers o f the shama ns, tr ib al m yth ologie s, the wo rk of psychoa naly

sis, or the inexplicable grace of consciousness, makes the spl it-off en

ergies available to ego once more and one feels a sense o f w e l l - be in g .

W h a t Nancy is doing in th is pa int ing is to consc iously evoke theparent's parents (for she senses they are present beyond the l imi ts o f

death , mem ory, and consc ious influence) and to l ight a candle o f co n

sciousness in the great darkness, which Jung has described as our fun

dam ental task. W e kn ow that divorce does not end a marriage, no r death

e n d the inf luence of a parent , nor t ime erase t h e p o w e r o f p r i m a l

epiphanies . Jung describes the m echa nism by whi ch th is con tin ui ng

power o ccurs : "W h e n a person dies , the feelings and em otion s that

b o u n d his relatives to hi m lose their app lica tio n to real ity and sink into

the unconscious, where they activate a col lective content that has a

deleterious effect on consciousness." 12

Perhaps what the gods demand of us i s not s lav ish worship , nor

infant i l i z ing imi tat io n, or apotropaic d enia l , but s im ply to be rem em

bered , to be respected as the truth s w hi ch do not d ie as every thin g else

w i l l . To ho ld a cand le of consciousness in the darkness, to pay hom age

to the power of the multigenerational inf luences which we carry into

dai ly l i fe, means that our relationships w i t h the past might prove less

troubled and our movem ent throu gh the t w i n worlds whi ch we inhabit

m i g h t be richer.

SUE'S FAN: T H E M E T O N Y M I E S O F M E M O R Y

After m y m a te rn a l g ra n dm o th e r d i e d , I wrote a poe m o f praise for her.

I t i s impossible of course to summon up the whole experience of a

person. So r ich and variegated is our experience that we may render

o n ly a sm al l part of i t consc ious. O f the ma ny images w hi ch f looded




Figure 4. Sue's Fan. 1988. Oil on linen. 48"X48".

me, one in part icular took me back to the wonder of c h i l d h o o d . M y

gr a n d m ot h e r w or k e d a great deal in roses, and her wrists were often

scratched from this occu pat ion. A s a c h i l d , full of won der and terror , I

observed much and pondered even more . These scratches both fright

ened me and fasc inated me, and bound me to her through her work

w i t h f lowers. T he co nc lud in g l ines of the po em , the n, were redolent of

these images:




.. . roses and thorn-bitten wrists,

blood, and first blood,

in the first scratch of time.

T h e in i t ia l reference to b lo od is of the blo od y scratches, an d the seco n d refers to m e, her first gr a n d c h i l d . B ut the scratch suggests that these

wounds are only the f irst of many to follow, not the least of w h i c h be

in g m or ta l it y i tself , not on ly for the deceased gra nd m oth er bu t a lso

for the c h i l d w h o w i l l fol low in her ash- bo un d steps. Th e focus o n the

scratches is the m eton ym y of m em ory , a means by w h i c h that whi ch is

associated may be ut i l i zed to su m m o n u p th e w h o l e . W e c a n n e v e r

s u m m o n the whole, but i f we are wise or lucky we w i l l find the key

assoc iat ion wh ic h may evoke the power o f the who le .

A n y o n e w h o w o r k s w i t h dreams w i l l testi fy to th is co m m on power

o f the dream -maker to find such images w hi ch suggest, w h i c h in t im a te ,

w h i c h conjure up the larger powers. M ore ov er, the b lo od scratch is i t

self symbolic o f the mystery o f i n c a r n a t i on , o f the relationsh ips o f gen

erat ions t hro ug h the b l ood l i n e , a n d o f the m o rta l i ty w h i c h we carry in

our sanguinary so journs.

In the p a in t in g Sue's Fan, N a n c y ha s s im i l a r l y fo cu sed o n a m e m o ry

o f her grandmother. The particular fan reminds us of the era before

a i r -condi t ioning, when every hom e an d church and workplace had such

fans as necessary in stru m en ts of su rv iv al. W e also observe a vessel of

some unguent for the s k i n , earr ings, and a lamp w hi ch is no longer l i t .

E a c h of these images is a thesaurus for the painter and tied to her spe

cific experience, yet each has the power to su m m on us to m em or y a nd

to the power of metonymy.

O f the f igures represented, Nancy wrote, "the f igures in Sue's Fan

are both sets of grandparents—more di f ferent f rom each other than

yo u c o u l d im a g in e . I w a s n a m e d fo r bo t h g ra n d m o th e rs— Na n c y S u e.

V e r y So uth ern. N an cy taught m e: 'W he n e 'er a task awaits yo u, w i t h

so l e m n ju dg m e n t v ie w it ; don ' t si t and id ly w ish it do ne, beg in at oncea n d do it . ' [O n the other hand ] Sue: 'W he the r a task be great o r sm a l l ,

do i t w e l l o r n o t a t a l l ,' w h i c h so m e h o w g ot t ra n s l a te d in to ' D o n ' t

b o t h e r . ' " 1 3

The way i n w h i c h the portraits o f the four grandparents are arranged




r e m i n d s one of a portion of a genogram. From such p r i m a l sources

come strong genes along w i t h their moralizing rhymes and admoni

t ions. W h i l e Nancy the painter wryly suggests that no small part o f her

life may have been lived in rebellion against those constr ic t ing expec

tat ions , she acknowledges that she is of her grandmothers' blood inmore than her amalgamated name. Perhaps the woman who dares to

stand for forty and fifty hours a week before her canvas is doing ex

actly what those maxims i n t e n d e d . " W i t h solemn judgment view i t . . .

b e gi n and do i t . . . task do well or not at all " Ho w many of us have

spent our lives rebelling against admonitions and expectations and

r u n n i n g in the opposite direction only to find that we have fulfilled

the expectations in some cleverly disguised manner?The children who spectrally sit in the window are Nancy and her

brother, the issue and descendants of these p r i m a l sources. We sense

that they surely were i m p l i c i t in the beginnings, for we are all born

before we are b o r n , in our parents' dreams and in their genetic coding.

W e sense that they too are evanescent, as flimsy as that blowing cur

ta in . We sense in the lantern without light some missing ins ight , some

enl ightening perspective. In the distance lies the happy isle, some valo

r ized Valhal la that one glimpses and never fully attains. It is always out

there, in sight, just now s l ipping over the h o r i z o n . Surely these images,

p a r t i c u l a r to a V i r g i n i a painter, are images w h i c h depict our c o n d i t i o n

as well .

A n d of all the things upon which to focus, and to name the paint

i n g , why Sue's fan? Why not Nancy's earrings? Why not a curtain in

the wind? The particularity of the fan intrigues. As a specific artifact

o f memory it is as tied to her ancestral source as my grandmother's

rose-bitten wrists. Yet such artifacts of memory stir the inexpressible

w o r ld o f c h i ldh o o d with its plethora o f affectively charged images. Rilke

wrote o f his c h i l d h o o d , and out o f the vast phantasmagoria o f m e m o r y

he settled on the ball wit h w h i c h they played. He celebrated its luscious,

tactile curve, and yet, alas, how those mortal children stepped under

the falling ball . In one image—the b a l l — R i l k e conjures both the i n n o

cent game of c h i l d h o o d and the perilous perigee of their curving de

scent toward death.

Sue's fan is shaped l ike a heart; it points away from the c h i l d r e n , yet




its stem is bo u nd to the m , and i t l ies under a shroud unvei led for the

moment, in an instance as f leeting as the whip and f lash of a gauzy

c u r t a i n in th e w in d. I n su c h m o m e n ts , f l o o de d by th e p e rm u ta t in g

powers of the past, f leeting memory binds the far-flung islands of iden

tity and knits psyche's cloth. Th us, for m om ents only, the curtains w hi chtum ble are l ike ghosts w hi ch rem ind .

CHALICE: T H E G R E A T M O T H E R ' S C H I L D

M a n y o f Nancy's paintings feature this same chal ice, w hi ch is based on

a ra th e r o rd in a ry- l o o kin g m e ta l c u p in h e r c u p bo a rd . Bu t th a t c u p

becomes tran sform ed in her pain tings as we have seen, and in Chalice

it i s centra l to her v i s io n.

A n d what is the chal ice which haunts and holds so many of our

project ions? As we know, the gra i l imago has funct ioned with in the

C h r i s t i a n tradit ion as the cup which held the wine become blood of

C h r i s t w h ic h , th o u g h l os t , still carries the projection of the search for

div in i ty . A no th er trad it io n has it that the chal ice was fashioned from

an emerald d rop ped from Lucifer's forehead whe n he fel l head long int o

the abyss. The archetypal imagination further employs the chal ice as

the conta iner , that which receives , holds , and perhaps a lchemica l ly

transforms. In this particular painting the chal ice seems overf lowing

w i t h the effluvia o f the great sea be hi nd it, a p r i m a l s y m b o l o f the Magna

Mater, the nu rtu ran t ma tr i x f rom w hi ch a l l th ings come. Sand , sea ,

rocky shoal , and sky al l meet here; the four-fold venues of the world

gather at the poi nt of the sacred container. W ha t does knit our l ives ,

our h istories , our memories? W ha t keeps constancy, i f not the cont a in

in g vessel w hi ch we cal l soul? The pre-So cratic H erac l itus averred that

the human soul was a distant land whose boundaries could never be

f o u n d . O n l y through such images as the chalice can we have a br idge

to the inv is ib le w or ld , wi tho ut wh ich we live in emptiness.

WINDOWS: T H R O U G H A G L A S S D A R K L Y

O u r l ives are suffused w it h st i m ul i o f unim agina ble pr op or t i on and

unass imilable magnitude. On e of the several functions of dreams seems

to be to process the dross and detritus of daily l ife, to help us clear a

space for the co m in g day. Inevitably, the inf lux o f s t i m u l i is dissociated




Figure5. Chalice. 1988. Oil on linen. 40" X52".



Figure 6. W i n d o w s . 1990. Oil on linen. 34" x 44".



a n d rendered banal i f observed at all . O ne o f the gifts o f the artist is to

call atte ntio n to, to br in g int o focus, to lift the extrao rdin ary out of the

everyday. I have the privi lege of l i v i n g w i t h an artist , and her way of

seeing, her sensit iv ity to nuance of shade, texture, and form has o b l i

gated the expansion of m y v isua l w or ld . I f W o r d s w o r t h co ul d see i n am om ent's ep ipha ny that the vio let by the mossy stone was the w or k of

eternity, the n the gift o f the artist is to make us mi nd fu l o f those depths

w h i c h course beneath all surfaces. A s Elu ar d re m in ds , "There is another

w o r l d , and it is this one."

In W indows w e find an apparently ba nal scene, a basement, a wo rk

place, a wi nd ow w hi ch leads now here. B ut there is that l ight bu lb there

again, as central as the l ight in Guernica. Yet it, too, has its shadow onthe wal l and rea li ty is dou bled . W e have a m irro r to th e o u ts ide w h ic h

does no t reveal very m u ch , and we have a glass frame against the w a l l ,

leading nowhere, w h i c h shows us the pain ter herself . Th ro u gh the glass

d a r k l y (w hic h, in the K i n g James vers ion o f I Co rin th ian s 13, meant to

see oneself d im ly in the m ir ro r) , one finds oneself n ow i n a vert ig i

nous world of p lanes and a l tered states. If that is the painter in the

framed glass, then who is pa in tin g the painter, or from wha t perspec

tive then are we seeing, or be in g seen? A n d w ha t k i n d o f w i n d o w m i g h t

it be w h ic h casts such recta ngular l igh t across the w al l at suc h an angle

unless the window itself is the begetter of our i l l u m i n a t i o n , so that

planes of reality cut across each other all the time? So we have glass

t h r o u g h which we see, and glass in which we see ourselves; we have

w in do w s u p o n th e ba n a l a n d w in do w s u p o n e te rn i ty ; w e have the

p a in ter p a in t in g a p a in t in g a bo u t a p a in te r p a in t in g a p a i n t i n g , w h i c h

is real ly about anoth er subject, wh ic h is not c lear, unless that w h ic h we

thought clear and is not, is in fact the subject, and that these planes of

reality intersect i n o u r lives all the t i me , an d that is the plai n plane t ruth.

A t the bo tt om i n the center stands the ho m ely can w i t h the tools o f

the trade, and the brushes point in al l the directions of the painting,

even as the hands in Guernica reach for the l ight . A n d th at l ig h t o n ther ight is balanced by the obscure white circle of tape on the left. Is it a

mandalic image, a casual object, or the empty eye of eternity?




SECOND OPENING: R E N D I N G T H E C U R T A I N O F E T E R N I T Y

T h i s paint ing i l lustrates Jung's previous ly c i ted remarks about how

p r i m o r d i a l experience al lows a gl impse into the abyss. W e w h o seek

m ay also be sought. It is we ll k n o w n that the in scr ip t i on over the en

trance to the temple of A p o l l o at D e l p h i offered the very sage advice ," K n o w Thyself." But it has been reported that over the entrance to the

in n e r temple , w hi ch cou ld be obta in ed on ly a fter a r igorous spir i tua l

a ppr e nt ic e s h ip , t he re wa s ins c r i b e d , " T h o u A r t . " W e re c a l l t h at nu

minous c om es f r om a wo r d m e a ning "t o n o d , " an d we need to remem

ber that soul is found in a l l the world and autonomously seeks us as

well . It nod s at us as it sol icits co nn ect io n. Th is pa in tin g is the obverse

o f Opening, which typif ies our search for the divine and suggests that

the divine may well be searching for us.

Just as we frequ ently find strangers i n ou r dreams w ho seem to kn o w

us, so there is som ethin g w hi ch is fam il iar i n al l o f us, for we are o f this

c ont iguous c os m os — pla nt , a n i m a l , a n d soul , an d on ly ego sp lits us off.

W e recall H o l d e r l i n i n "P a t m o s " : " T h a t w h i c h t h o u seekest is near, and

/ already c o m i n g to m eet thee." O r Pascal's pensee, "C on so le thyself, th ou

wo uld s 't not be seeking me hadst tho u not already fo un d m e." O r Plato

i n th e Meno that a l l knowledge is re-cog nit io n of that w hi ch is pr im or -

dia l ly k n o w n .

W h a t stands o n the other side o f that curta in, the l i m i t of conscious

ness, the ve i l of m orta l i ty , the poverty of im agina t ion? W ha t reaches

th ro u g h toward us? W ha t rends the quo t id ia n plane of sea an d surf

a n d sky? A n d wh at do we see w hen we see th rou gh the glass da rkly, orglimp se the other side for a m om ent? W e see h ere, at least, a blan k screen

o n which eternity, or the mind's eye, or our project ions find their ex

pr e ss ion . W h a t ca n we k n ow o f that other side? W e can o nl y be capable

of t ha t wh ic h we m a y k no w i n this l i mi t e d state, but there, be yo nd tim e

a n d num b e r , a nd space a n d l i m i t , i s ou r hom e, an d we carry that same

h o m e w i t h i n each o f us. W e resonate to such images because they are

the carriers of such energy as courses through us even as it animatesthe cosmo s. W e are m ov ed on ly by l ike to l ike. W ha t beckons f rom the

other s ide, an d to whose m yth ic m ot io ns al l of us mov e, is , in ways we

c oul d never co m preh end , l ike us, of us, abou t us. Such an ima ge as the




Figure7. S e c o n d O p e n i n g . 1989. Oil on linen. 24"X30".



Second Opening i s a window not only on eternity but on the inf inite

reaches of the human psyche as well .

RHYTON: H E R E I S M Y B L O O D , D R I N K

O f Rhyton N a n c y W i t t sa id, " R h y t o n is a Gre e k d r i n k i n g cup I hap p e n t o own t h e one in t h e pa int ing o f t h a t na m e —h a s t o d o w i t h

B a c c h us in m y m i n d , hence pa ssion, f ire, and al l that goo d stuff . " 14 In

the effort to "im ag e up," whi ch is the c on t r i b ut i on the archetypal ima gi

n a t i o n makes i n ou r effort to app roa ch the ineffable, we are present to

s o m e t h i n g heat ing up. O f the twenty volum es of the Collected Works,

Jung devoted three of them to a lchemy. His interest in a lchemy is

eno ug h to ma rk h i m suspect i n mo st psycho logica l c ircles , but he rec

o g n ize d that the alchemists were the last i n the W estern tra d it i on to

seek to h o ld spir it and matter together before their fatal fract urin g into

phys ics , chemistry , psychology, phi losophy, medic ine , and theology.

M o r e o v e r , Jung recognized that there is no art ifact of human culture

w h i c h does no t carry the i m p r i n t of the hu m an psyche. Every psychol

ogy, he said, is a subjective confession, telling us more of the author

t h a n of the psyche. So, too , is every theology, for the mystery remains

mysterious and ineffable.

Tracking the way i n w hi ch the psyche structures this invis ible w o r l d ,

as it does i n ou r dreams each ni ght or i n ou r t r iba l myth ologies , is a

w o r k r e q u i r i n g great patience but offering great reward. In Rhyton, the

flamm able ma terials o f the psyche are st i rr i ng in the d r i n k i n g cup. In

that cup is the f ruit of the v ine , sacred to the dy ing god Dionysus-Ba cchus, or later the bl oo d of C h r i s t . Th e t r a ns ub s t a nt ia t ion o f matter

is the l i fe- long goal of man y re l ig ions , the t ransm uta t ion of dross m a

terial into pure spir i t . W ha t breaks forth f rom this wi ne is the t riple

taurean imago of the b u l l , which is also associated w i t h the Magna

Mater. The sacrifice of the c h i l d to the Great M ot he r survives in the

r i tua l ized slaying of the b u l l in Spanish cu lture . The m ytho logy o f the

d y i n g - r e b o r n go d is central to the religion s of the Nea r Ea st, the storieso f A d o n i s , T a m m u z , D i o n y s u s, Jesus Ch ris t , an d others , and partakes

o f that m ytholog ical movem ent we may call "the cycle of sacrifice." Two

great mythic paradigms move the world: the l inear, solar hero quest




Figure 8. Rhyton. 1986. Oil on linen. 46" x 46".

w h i c h is developm enta l , and the lunar , cyc lic b i r th -reb i r th which dra

matizes how life renews itself.

B o t h o f these mythic paradigms may be found in some fashion in

all cultures, for both are required to answer our questions as to how

life moves forward and how l i fe dies and is reborn. These patterns an

tedate Chris t ian i ty by m i l l e n n i a , but , because they are archetypal, they

illustrate ho w these p r i m o r d i a l images are necessary to animate, to " i m

age for th" la ter pr imordia l experiences. Nancy may or may not con-



sciously be drawing on these t r a d i t i on s , but that matters l i tt le, for these

images have a life of their o w n . As Jung said, the archetypal images are

formative patterns, which attract such materials as are useful for their

representation or i n c a r n a t i o n . From such heating up, the psyche fash

ions forth the transformation o f w i n e into spirit and o f those who d r i n kinto di v i n i t y .

GLASS DARKLY: F O R N O W W E S E E C L E A R L Y

W h a t , we may ask, is the subject of this p a i n t i n g , Glass Darkly? Is it the

objects on the canvas? Is it the painter herself? Is it the painter paint

ing? Is it meant to induce questioning about the separate but intersect

in g planes of reality? Since the invention of the daguerreotype in the

1830s, painting has been released from any obligation to reproduce a

ph ot ogr a ph ic version of reality. Perhaps the best c on t r i b ut i on of any

art is to provide an angle o f v i s i o n , as long as we recall that the p a i n t i n g

is to oblige our questioning of the variegated versions of ontic reality.

In establishing the wine bottle and fruit, the painter invokes the

painterly interest in surfaces and planes, vertical, angular, and spher

o i d . In showing herself p a i n t i n g these objects she suggests her lineage

from at least Cezanne to the present. In p o s i t i o n i n g the worker's glove

a n d a used tube o f acryl ic she reminds us that what she does is her work,

a labor from nine to five, six days a week. And yet by tearing the h o r i

zontal strip across the canvas, a trompe I'oeil, which is not a tear at all,

she reminds us o f the planes w i t h i n planes w h i c h exist simultaneously.

O n l y consciousness intersects these planes.

I n a poem t i t led "A High-toned Ol d Christian W o m a n , " Wallace

Stevens asserts that he, the poet, and she, the theologue, are about the

same process, the making of fictions. But the poet remains metaphysi

cally and psychologically free in his awareness of the fictive nature of

a ll knowledge and the provisionality of a ll perspectives, while she re

m a i n s trapped in her idolatrous l i tera l i sm. Such fictions are necessary,

c o m i n g from facere in L a t i n , meaning "to make," for all constructs arethings made. To fall in love w i t h our own constructs and believe that

they contain the mystery is blasphemous, for such reification seeks to

colonize the mystery on behalf of ego's d o m i n i o n . This modern sensi

bi l i ty is required since depth psychology has taught us that each state-




Figure9. Glass Darkly. 1982. Oil on linen, 36"X42".

ment about reality is an i m p l i c i t Rorschach of our own m i n d . What

Blake called "reorganized innocence" is necessary to spare us from the

sin of l i tera l i sm, which is an unintended insult to the autonomy and

c om p l e x i t y o f mystery. As Stevens concludes his poem, "This w i l l make

widows wince. But Active things / W i n k as they w i l l . W i n k most when

widows wince." 1 5 The wink is not only the numinous winking at us,

but we need to wink back to be conscious of the game of fictions which

we employ to approach the holy. Nancy W i t t ' s planes upon planes,

p a i n t e d by the painter painting herself, is a supreme act of conscious

ness o f the ineffable, of the wonderful tool that art may be for us when

we approach the numinous, and of the need to wink as a measure of

respect for the mystery.




PAINTING: A S E A T A T T H E E D G E O F T H E R E A L

In Painting N an cy tells us what we are observin g: a pa i nt i ng , w i t h the

n o w fam ilia r elements o f surf, sea, an d sky, stretchin g out to the h o r i

z o n of t he im a gin a l . H a v in g l ive d only a m i le f rom t he A t la n t i c O c e a n

for nearly twenty years, I k n o w h o w cl iched the portra its o f the sea ar e—de p ic t io n s o f ro m a n t ic a l l y tossed surf, nostalgic blankets and um br el

las for tourists to take back to the heartland. But that is not what we

encounter in Painting. As before, Painting is a b out a p a int i ng w h ic h is

a b out p a i n t i n g . A n d what is the act of p a i n t i n g about? Is it a recollec

t i o n of the eye an d mem ory? A p hot ogra ph captures that m om ent , but

a m o m e n t is evanescence i tself, an d so the pa in tin g seeks to capture an

essence w hi ch extends bey on d the transient to the essential.

Ostensibly this pa int ing is of a seascape in wh i c h t he d e m a r c a t ion

between object an d replic at i on disappears as the m ar gi n of the canvas

w i t h i n the canvas merges w i t h t h e b a c k gr ound of t h e pa int ing a nd

becomes on e. Yet the pa in ti ng at the center o f Painting depicts the t r i

angular opening in the clouds even as the wave l ines coincide exactly,

suggest ing again the m i xi n g of planes o f real ity. In ad d it io n, we ask

where the painter is, the pain ter w h o sat in that barber's seat. W h y t he re

she is, silhouetted on the sand before her easel, but it cannot be this

easel , so that shadowy f igure must be painting a painting other than

this one. A n d wh o, we ask, is pain tin g a p a i n t i n g titled Painting'm w h i c h

there is a pa in tin g alongside of w h i c h is a s i lhouette o f a pain ter pai nt

in g another pa in t in g wh ile a l l of this has presum ably been pa inted by

stil l another painter? W h o is the painter o f these painters , then? W e

ma y answer that quest ion o nly by k n o w i n g what we mean by G o d , w h o

watches the universe , or the archetypal i m ag in at io n w hi ch ex is ts at

m ul t i p l e levels s imu ltaneously. Th e o nly way i n wh ich we m ight be able

to conjure w i t h these mult i layered int imations of real ity is to accept

the fictive ch aracter o f wha t we ha st i ly nam e rea l ity and to realize that

it is th rou gh the conscio us use o f the fictive (facere, "to make") that we

become what Hermann Hesse ca l led the Magister Ludi der Glasperlin,the masters of the glass bead game of th e w or ld . O n l y those who play

the reality game consciou sly, that is , w i t h the conscious use of image,

meta phor, and sym bo l, are spared the self-deception of l i tera l i sm.




Figure w. Painting (V). 1984. Oil on linen. 38" diameter.

BAILEY WON: R E F R A C T I O N S O F T I M E , P L A C E , A N D P E R S O N

Bai ley Island, off the coast of M a i n e , is a place where Nancy often vaca

t ions in the summer, a place Jung himself vis i ted, as did many of the

first generation of analysts who studied under him. In the published

collection o f her paint ings , Nancy writes, "In the summer o f 19841 spentseveral weeks on an island in M a i n e . I lived in a little red house perched

o n rocks with the w i l d At lant ic for my front yard. I had never l ived alone

before and experienced both freedom and hitherto unknown fears




There is a po em by E m ily D i c k i n s o n in w h ic h sh e speaks o f dwel l ing i n

possibi l i ty . M y red house has come to be just such a dwe ll ing for m e. " 1 6

In the silhouette of the painter one senses the aloneness, the con

templat ive character of the mo m en t an d the w ork of the canvas w i t h i n

the canvas yet to be completed. As there is a canvas to fil l , so there is alife to co nt in ue, to fill in ne w areas. In the homey V - 8 can at the r ight

we find the tools , the brushes, and the oils , and from the shadowed

recesses of the art ist we know the images w i l l arise to reflect not only

the w i l d A t la n t i c but the imaginat ive sensibil ity w h i c h brings order and

me ani ng and , as Ri lke noted i n the Duino Elegies, w h i c h s u m m o n s u p

be in g i tself thr ou gh the evocations of consciousness. In this pa in tin g

we no t on ly see again the m ul t ip le levels o f reality, w i t h even an await

ing easel i n the A t la n t i c i tself , bu t the true sub ject— fou nd in the act of

consciousness w hi ch makes m ea nin g possible.

In the center is a bo w l of water w hi ch int ima tes that smaller source

we carry w i t h i n us, the personal u ncon sciou s , w hi ch is i t se l f a po rt i on

of the oceanic back grou nd of the collect ive unco nsciou s. Th ro ug h these

two alembics, bowl and sea, personal and collect ive unconscious, the

same energy flows. Things above are copies of things below; the hu

man psyche is the receptacle of the oceanic energies a nd , in t u r n , brings

the inca rna t ion al power of the part icular . W it ho u t the cosmic ener

gies, the i n d i v i d u a l w ou ld not l i ve ; wi t h o ut th e i n d i v i d u a l , the cosmos

w o u l d never be inca rnat ed. It is on ly the l imits of our ego-conscious

ness which object to the f lowing of one real ity, one canvas over into

another, wh en i n the im ag in al w or ld al l is one. The archetypal Fall f rom

und ifferentiated bliss in to consciousness created num ber, twoness, an d

o n l y the archetypal im ag in at io n has the power to recover the uni ty

w h i c h courses through this universe of "the ten thousand things."

F r o m this t it le, Bailey Won, we sense that not only has the painter

ha d to wrest f rom loneliness and d iso r ienta t ion a new sense o f i d e n

t i ty b ut a m y t h o log ic a l gr ou nd ing as we l l . Th e wo m a n w h o c a n go

th ro u g h this t ime of loss of others, and points of reference, is obligedto discover that the longitu des an d lat itudes of the sou l are w i t h i n . She

has learned that the s i lence is no t s i lent, an d that the da rk is lu m in o u s.

She has, i n her loneliness, achieved so litud e. W h e n one is no t alone

wh en one is alone, w he n one is aware of a good ly presence w i t h i n one -




Figureu. B a i l e y W o n . 1985. Oil on linen. 30" X36".



self, then one has achieved sol itud e. O u r pop ula r culture is a tacit agree

ment to flee the terror of lonel ine ss, an d it therefore c ircum ven ts the

possibi l i ty o f sol itude. The avoidance o f solitud e is the flight, ultim ately,

from oneself . Parad oxical ly, i t is only i n sol itude that ou r creativity and

our gift to others w i l l be found. As Jung has written so provocatively," I n d i v i d u a t i o n cuts one off from personal conform ity and hence f rom

collectivity. Tha t is the guilt w hi ch the i n d i v i d u a l leaves b e h i n d . . . for

the w o r l d , that is the gui lt he m ust ende avor to rede em . H e m ust offer

a ran som in place of himself , that is , he must b ri ng forth values w hi ch

are an equivalent substitute for his absence in the collective personal

sp h e re . " 1 7

The suffering o f loneliness brings the encounter w i t h the Self, w h i c h

is foun d in the a tta inment o f sol i tude , w hi ch becomes the source fro m

w h i c h the new, the unique images of the i n d i v i d u a l arise to enhance,

differentiate, and expand the collective sphere. The meaning of suffer

in g is to f ind what that suffering may mean, and out of this discovery

the person grows, contrib utes new values to the collective, and thereby

wins the battle of Bailey Island.

CICATRICE: H E A L I N G T H E W O R L D 3 S W O U N D

In Cicatrice, an archaic wo rd m ea nin g scar, we recal l the earl ier images

o f Opening a n d SecondOpening. T h e f o rm e r su m m o n e d u s to l o o k

below the visible world and see the vertiginous depths, and the latter

a le rte d u s to th e a u to n o m y o f th e n u m in o u s w h i c h w in ks , in t im a te s ,

and inv i tes rapprochement. Here we see no pa inter ' s s i lhouette , no

canvas u p o n canvas, but the familiar elements of surf, sea, and sky are

again transmogrif ied. The rent fabric is k n i t together, somewhat hu

m o ro u s l y by th e in c o n g ru i ty o f a dh e s iv e bandages, as if to make it

impossible for us not to remember we are seeing a painting, but that

the painting is as valuable a point of entry into the mystery of o r d i

nary l ife as any metaphysics, any science, any theology.

It is precisely at the point of the spl it where the numinous and theo p e n i n g of consciousness to depth tou ch . Such a contact, and such an

Auseinandersetzung, to use one o f Jung's favorite words, constitutes the

act iv i ty of what he cal led the transcendent function. W h i l e we cannot

k n o w that other w o r l d , be it the cosmos w ith ou t or the cosmos w i t h i n ,




Figure 12. C i c a t r i c e . 1994. Oil on linen. 23" x 32 ".



we may receive int im ati ons f rom attendance up on their me et ing poi nt

in vestigial images. W e do no t kn ow , for example, the un con scio us, but

we have a dream image which presents itself to waking consciousness.

Such an image br idges tw o worlds an d partakes o f b o t h . T h e a ss im i l a

t io n of such images into consciousness enlarges and nourishes conscio u s l if e. W i t h o u t su c h access to depth we remain superf ic ia l and

w i t h o u t vita l i ty .

Yet the paradox of consciousness, for a l l i ts gif ts , is found in the

spli t t ing u p o n w h ic h i t is based . W ith o u t the sp l i t t in g o f th e p r im a l

unity , consciousness can not be b i r t h e d , but such spli t t ing spl inters an d

separates. O u r ancestors dra m atize d th is sund ering separat ion as the

Fall . T h e bandages rem in d us that such wound s are never who lly healed.

T h e y c o n sti tu te the c o n d i t i o n o f m o rt a l be in g s w h o have v i s io n s o f

di v i n i t y , w h o , t h o u g h m o r t a l , w ri te i m m o r t a l sym p h o n ie s a n d p o e m s,

and paint openings to eternity. Cicatrice i s the world 's wound, never

w h ol l y healed, taped together, and yet the m eet ing po in t f rom wh ich

consciousness an d creativity are foun d . A s O dysseus was recogniz ed

by the fa ithful servant E uraclea by his w o u n d , as Shakespeare's C o r i o -

lanus displayed his wo un ds as s ignature o f his service to Rome, as Jesus

was recognized by h is astonished disc ip les on the road to Em m au s, so

we are the carriers o f the c icatrice wh ic h is ou r c o n d i t i o n , o u r w o u n d ,

a n d o u r u n f o l d in g sp le n do r .

RING O F FIRE: C R E A T I V E C O N F L A G R A T I O N

A s a last sample of the personal and archetypal im agi na tio n at wo rk, we

see Ring of Fire. At the center is the same rent between this world and

the other, between the Sehnsucht fur Ewigekeit and the summ ons of the

n o d d i n g nu m ino us , between the world 's w ou nd and the transcendent

function's l inkage. This t ime a f lower breaks forth. From our deepest

w o u n d incredible beauty may be bo rn . The Jesuit p o e t G e ra rd M a n l e y

H o p k i n s speaks o f the transformative mystery, o f h o w hum ans are born

o f the sod , o f how from matter springs the mystery o f soul , of how fromthe cr im son defeat o n the cross spring s the alchem ical gold: "blue-bleak

e m b e r s . . . fall, gall themselves, and gash g o l d - v e r m i l l i o n . " 1 8 T h e fami l

iar sand, surf, and sky are now muted yet transfigured by the same i m

age Dante used to represent the beatif ic vision—the multifoliate rose.




Figure 13 . Rin g of Fire. 2992. Oil on linen. 52" X52".

O f this pa int ing Nancy wrote , " In meditat ion this morning I heard

'B e stil l m y so ul ' an d for the f irst t im e won dered wh y on Ea rth anyone

w o u l d want to stil l the sou l . I thin k I have always wished for fire from

m i n e . " 1 9 We recal l the f lammable spir it of Rhyton. W e recall that fire

has so often been a sym bo l of spi rit , as in the flam ing tongues of the

H o l y Sp irit . W e recall the brick ed -up f ire of the family. A n d we recall

that the circle or man da la has so often app eared in w o rl d cultures as

an image of wholeness, of the balance of opposites, and of how things




begin and end in a common point . So in th is br ief explorat ion of the

v i s i o n o f a s ingle person , Nan cy W i t t of V i r g i n i a , we observe the emer

gence of archetypal images to incarnate the invisible powers of both

personal and archetypal process. As Shakespeare suggested o f i m a g i

n a t i o n , th is is the power "to len d to a iry n oth ing a loca l hab itat io n an da name."

I n d i v i d u a t i n g persons con trib ute thei r gifts to the collective, an d in

their pr ivate v is ion s, pu bl ic ly shared, pro foun dly recharge the m ost

ancient of images. They are all present: earth, air, f ire, and water, the

four elements of D em ocritu s , the mult i fo lia te rose o f D ante , the world 's

w ou nd healed by beauty w hi ch bursts and bestows. A n d thro ugh th is

v i s i on of a s ingle pair of eyes we are spared Blake's "single vision andNewton's sleep" and are present to the eternal which moves each mo

ment. Such is the gift to us from the artist, the remembrance that, in

the word s of poet Stephen D u n n , "everyth ing he does takes ro o t , h u m s

/ beneath the surfaces o f th e w o r l d . " 2 0




C H A P T E R 4

therapeutic Q^ma^ininqs

P s y c h o p a t h o l o g y a n d S o u l

Sunt lacrimae rerum et mentem m ortal ia tangunt.

These are the tears of things, and th e stuff

of our morta lity cuts us to the heart.

— V i r g i l


beyond our grasp. In a p o e m t it led " I n t r o d u c t i o n to the 20th Century, "

Stephen D u n n writes ,

For every

lame god a rhythm and a hunch, something local

we couldtrust. W e learnedto put

history books down gently on the table,

conscious of the Hitlers in them, th e Stalins,

monsters that were ours and no one else's.

In difficult times, we came to understand,

it's th e personal and only th e personal that matters.1

I do not k n o w i f the p o e t ever kn e w th a t J u n g c a l l e d n e u ro s i s a" w o u n d e d g o d ," a te l l in g , h e rm e n e u t ic a l m e ta p h o r for the de p th dy

n a m ic s of the s o u l w h i c h is repressed, split off, projected. But we all

k n o w the truth of this metaphor, this lame god D u n n evokes i n a m i s

shapen centu ry, an d in the su nd ry pathologies of our m isshapen l ives.



To coun ter this deep dis-ease, this existential certainty that no th in g is

any longer certa in, we seek our private rhythms, trust the velle it ies of

o u r i n t u i t i o n s , and re ly on the apparent ly kn o w n from w hi ch to chart

o u r caut ious courses . W e kn ow we have bred m onsters , and no t just in

sleep, but i n the pasty-faced m a n w i t h a mustache w ho gave nightmaresto the wo rld , an d against w hi ch we have to measure a ll V i c t o r i a n fan

tasies of m e l i o r i s m , progress, and perfect ib i l i ty . A n d we k no w, i f we

are honest and have ven tured ou t from the quiet porches of our s leep

in g ancestors, that we carry such monsters w i t h i n ourselves, that we

can no longer po in t over the distant h or iz on to dissociate fro m this

h u r t , ho rri bl e slayer of sleep, reason's renegade, o r fro m the m a li g n i

ties of m i n d . D u n n , l ike most modern and postmodern art is ts , pros

pects the personal, tracks the truths w i t h sm all t , an d seeks solipsist ic

solace. W i t h the common ground gone, the metaphys ical consensus

betrayed, he has little c h o ic e . A n d w e have little choice but to cont in ue

to l i n k the merely personal w i t h the archetypal, to f ind what ancient

rhythms course w i t h i n us, even w hen i t i s ou r pathologies w hi ch m ay

at last lead us home.

W h e n we recall that the fou nd at ion m etap hors, or archetypes, rep

resent rad ica l openin gs to mystery, then we recover the pos sib il ity o f

de p th w hi ch is m iss ing in m od ern psychology a nd psychotherapy. To

consciously evoke soul when we pract ice psychology (the expression

o f soul) or psychotherapy (the attendance upon soul) or address psy-

cho pat ho logy (the suffering of soul) is to recover som ethi ng or ig in al ,

p r o f o u n d , an d generally lost to mo d ern pract ice. O f course we do notk n o w what sou l itself mean s, but this no t kn ow in g is prop er to sustain

the soul 's purchase o n mystery. In the etym olog ica l meta phors o f sou l

we f ind both the transmogrifying butterf ly and the verb "to breathe,"

the invis ible i n s p i r i t i n g , ani m at in g energy w h i c h enters the husk o f life

at b i r t h , undergoes its au ton om ou s perm uta tion s, an d departs at death.

T r a c k i n g this deep, div ine breath was hist oric ally the task of m y

thologies, then theologies, and now, when the gods have w i t h d r a w na n d gone inward as Jung suggests, the task of depth psychology. The

lame gods are now psychopathologies and f ind t h e i r inc a r na t ion a s

som atic i l lness, a ddic t io n s , sociopathies, neuroses, a nd person ality dis

orders. O n l y wh en we d iscern the divi ne dram atic i n these patterns w i l l

( 1 0 0 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



we have any respect for the fact that they are indeed psychodynamic,

th e dyn a m ic s o f th e so u l . O n l y then can we reca l l what Jung and

H i l l m a n have been saying, only to be mo re an d mo re ign ore d , over the

course o f the twentieth century. O n l y then can psychopathology be seen

not on ly as the sufferings of the so ul but the em bo di ed rel igio us crisiso f the mo d ern as we l l .

I have the greatest of respect for the work of behavioral modif ica

t i o n , cognitive therapy, and psychopharmacology, for surely we are

repetitive, self-defeating beh avi ors, the carriers o f a c q u ire d a n d u n p r o

du ctive thoug hts, and reenactors of ou r bio logi ca l l ineage. Yet to focus

o n any of those approaches, at the exclusion of the others, is to fail to

engage the wh ole person. W ha t is needed even mo re today is a psychotherapy that addresses the w ou nd in g to the sou l , the hea l ing intent ions

o f the sou l , and the developm enta l motives w hi ch emanate f rom the

s o u l . T h is p syc h o l o g ic a l a t t i tu de re s to re s d ig n i ty a n d de p th to o u r

suffering, and to the sacred trust which therapy demands.

Tho se wh o wo rk as therapists are frequently o blig ed to use the u b i q

uitous Diagnostic and Statistical Manual (c o m m o n l y c a l le d the DSM).

W h i l e the purp ose of the ma nu al is to faci li tate diagn osis, wh ich then

p re su m a bl y assists in the form at ion o f treatment plans, in practice the

DSM on l y helps statist ic ians an d insurance com panie s manage patient

care by con ta i n in g costs . A physic ia n f r iend of m ine recently a ttended

a class given at a prestigious tea ching hosp ital in w hi ch he and his col

leagues were taught how to identify and treat depression and still have

the patient out of the off ice w i t h i n te n m in u te s . O n e s im p l y asks cer

ta in l i m i t e d quest ions, i n q u i r i n g as to sleeping patterns, the presence

of i rr i tabi l i ty , and so on. Then a prescr ipt ion is wri t ten. For the sec

o n d , and presum ably f ina l v is i t , these same questions are asked. Above

all , the teaching physic ian said to the class, "do not ask any personal

questions. Do not ask how their l i fe is going or they w i l l stay be yo n d

ten minu tes . " I have not made this up. It is the tenor of the times. In

deed, s im ilar anecdotes w i l l be foun d i n the repertoire of anyone prac

t icing therapy today. The y represent the redu ctio n of the who le pe rson

to a soul- less , f ract ionated machine. No wonder people distrust the

healers nearly as m uc h as the insurance com panie s.

In the DSM, the bib le of m od er n diagnosis for w hi ch schools offer

T H E R A P E U T I C I M A G I N I N G S ( 101 )



full-semester classes o n its use, and i n mo d ern pra ct ice, where those in

agencies or those seeking thi rd -p art y paym ent are requ ired to emp loy

a diagnostic category, there is no speculat ion on et iology (which god

has been offended), the meaning of this soul 's suffering, or the ideo

logical therapeutic wh ic h mu st transpire for healing . Defenders wil l saythat the DSM on l y does wh at is asked to do , an d they are r ight , bu t it is

itself i l lustrat ive of a moral bankruptcy, a fai lure of nerve before the

really im po rta nt quest ions . L ud w ig W ittgenste in once observed that

p h i l o so p h y is the disease for which it is supposed to be the cure. The

DSM is a s y m p t o m of the bankrup tcy of the mo de rn therapeut ic im agi

n a t i on and an impediment for which the profess ion is to blame, the

ignorance of which actually adds to the suffering of the i n d i v i d u a l . I

recall one behavioral psychologist who entered analysis w i t h m e i n N e w

Jersey an d who sm irked at our f irs t meet ing, say ing, "Ev eryone know s

when we do our own therapy, we come to a psychodynamic person."

That he knew this for himself , and pract iced otherwise, is as uncon

sc ionable as i t i s co m m on .

W e do not know what the psyche i s , th is noun taken from a verb

psychein, "t o breathe." B ut th erein lies the clue that the psyche is a ve rb

and not a noun, a process and not an entity. To think of the psyche,

even the unc on sci ou s, as an entity leads to the fal lacy o f l it era l ism

w h e re in one is more easily seduced by the fantasy of measurement or

m a n i p u l a t i o n , rather than the more respectful effort to track those

energies as inten tion s an d to possibly al ign oneself w i t h t h e m . Jung has

n o te d this dif f iculty:

[Our] premises are always far too simple. The psyche is the start

ing p o i n t o f all human experience, and al l the knowledge we have

gained eventually leads back to it. Th e psyche is the beg inn ing an d

en d o f all c ogn i t i on . It is not only the object of its science, but the

subject also. This gives psychology a unique place among all the

other sciences: o n the one ha n d there is a constant d ou bt as to theposs ib i l i ty o f its bei ng a science at a ll, w hi le on the other h an d

psychology acquires the right to state a theoret ical problem the

solut ion of w h i c h w i l l be one of the most difficult tasks for a future

p h i l o so p h y. 2

( l 0 2 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



F o r psychology to have de pth , or even consciousness, i t mu st con tin ue

to reflect u p o n itself , its prem ises, its ass um pti on s, its self-de lusio n. W e

k n o w next to no th in g about psyche an d even less about the person w ho

comes before us in therapy. H o w co uld we kn ow the right course for

that person? Perhaps their fate, and their i n d i v i d u a t i o n , is a path ofsuffering, exi le, or a l ien ati on rather than some state w i t h th e sm a rm y

descr iptor "we l l adjusted. " A s T . S . E l iot once observed, i n a w or ld of

fugitives, the perso n g oin g the right direct ion wil l appear to be ru n n in g

away. A n d whatever pro vis ion al purchase o n reality we atta in today wil l

be obviated by psyche's flow t o m o r r o w . A g a i n , the mo st eloquent voice

is that of Jung: "The re is a wid espread prejud ice that analysis is som e

thin g like a 'cure,' to w hi ch one sub m its for a time an d the n is discha rgedhealed. That is an . . . error left over from the early days. A n a l y t i c treat

men t co uld be descr ibed as a readjustment of psychologica l a tt i tude

. . . but there is no change which is uncondit ional ly va l id over a long

p e r i o d o f t im e . " 3

Jung's empha sis im plies not only that there is no f ixed view o f w h a t

is right, and permanent, for a person, but that the psyche's p e r m u t a

t ions t o m o r r o w wil l thro w today's und erstand ing aside. M oreov er, Jung

repeatedly emphasized that the therapist has no special knowledge

superior to that which the analysand already carries w i t h i n . The final

a ut h or i t y is no t, to use a repu lsive w or d , the "s hr in k," bu t the emer

gent testimony of the l i v i n g psyche. O nce again, Jung: "Analysis is not

a m e t h o d . . . o f p u t t i n g things in to the patient that were not there be

fore. It is better to renounce any attempt to give di r e c t i o n , a n d s i m p l y

to thr ow in to rel ief everyt hing that the analysis brin gs to l igh t, so that

the pat ient can see i t c le a r ly . . . . A ny th in g he has not acquired h ims el f

he w i l l not bel ieve in the long run, and what he takes over f rom au

t h o r i t y merely keeps h im infant i le . H e shou ld rather be put in a po si

t i o n to take his own l i fe in hand." 4

Surely this respect for the t ruth wh ich l ies w i t h i n the i n d i v i d u a l so u l ,

a n d whose intent ion i s incarna t ion in the w o r l d , has a respectful, even

rel igious character to it . H o w different such an attitude of pa rti c ip a

t i o n in the great mystery is from the DSMs, f ro m th e t ra in in g o f m o d

ern psychologists, and from that ox ym oro ni c obscenity, "m ana ged care."

The u ltima te end o f de pth psychology is to stand respectfully before




i n n e r tru th and dare to live it i n the wo rld . W ha t blocks each of us i s

fear—fear o f lonel iness, fear of re ject ion, and m ost o f all , fear of large

ness. W e are al l a fra id to move from the con fini ng powers of fate in to

the invitations of our destiny, afra id to step into the largeness o f o u r

ca l l ing to be who we were meant to be.A not her consid erat ion requires a ttent ion here. W he n Jung says, "a

feeling is as indisputable a reality as the existence of an idea," 5 feeling

types w i l l say " o f course" and t h i n k i n g types w i l l learn this tru th at their

be g ru dg in g expense. Jung considered feel ing, a long with t h i n k i n g , one

o f the two rational functions. Sensation and i n t u i t i o n are experiential .

B ut bot h feel ing an d t h i n k i n g weig h, measure, ratio, evaluate. So surely,

to invoke the po pu lar c l iche, to be ou t o f t ouc h with one's feelings is to

be separated from a powerful interna l guidance me chanism wh ich offers

a continuous commentary on the course of our l ives and inv i tes be

haviors appropriate to those evaluations. But too often we continue to

confuse feel ing with emotion. Emotion is the raw, neurologica l d is

charge of energy when a st imulus occurs. That energy is immediately

processed th rou gh the screen of the particular person's sensibility, that

is, the complexes, c ultu re, an d extent o f consciousness. W ha t transpires

after this screening is feeling, w hi ch is fraught not o nly wi th jud gm ent

bu t w it h a content as we ll . The content o f a feel ing is not o nly energy,

that is , em ot io n, but th ough t as we ll . That thou ght m ay be based on a

false premise, a misreading of external real ity, but it has its own self-

referential character.

O f t e n these thoughts are pr imit ive in character , when they can be

re n de re d c o n sc io u s . T h e y say so m e th in g l ike , "I am afraid of loss," or

"I desire safety," or " I wish to h ide f rom th is experience, " and so on.

The more the experience activates the p r i m o r d i a l history we al l carry,

th e m o re p r im i t i v e , tha t i s, th e m o re u n c o n sc io u s a n d u n di f f e re n t i

ated the thought w hi ch is em bo di ed . Th us , even pa infu l feelings are

not themselves the pa in , but ra ther emb od y pa inful thought and act i

vate the a priori belief system w hi ch concludes that one is i n pa in . Th isis l ike the m an who goes to the physic ian an d says to h i m , " D o c t o r , w h e n

I tou ch my head i t hurts . W he n I touch m y chest i t hurts . W h e n I to u c h

my abdomen i t hurts . " The doctor gives h im a c o m p l e te e xa m in a t io n

a n d says, " I k n o w w h a t yo u r p ro bl e m i s. Y o u have a broken finger."

( 1 0 4 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



C on f us i n g e m ot i on w i t h t h ough t a n d c a l l i n g i t f e e l i n g i s t o b e

trapped in an u nw itt in g l i tera l i sm once again. The key to heal ing lies

not on ly in d iscernm ent of though t , w it h i ts appropr iateness or lack

thereof, but also the subjective character of the screen through which

the emo tio na l charge has been processed. It is at this po in t that we com eback to the main thread of these discussions, the power of the image

to carry energy, value, and even, as a de facto mythology, to dictate

behaviors.

As an exempl i f icat ion of the power of such intrapsychic imagoes ,

we ma y examine the way i n w hi ch they appear in that range of m e n t a l

and behav iora l fu nct io n w hic h is ca lled the personal i ty d isorder . A s we

kno w, im pa ired or d is torted m ental funct ion ing is general ly categor ized as psychosis , organic bra in syndrome, neuros is , or personal i ty

disord er. In the nineteenth ce ntu ry this last category bore a heavy m o r a l

freight a nd in clud ed such terms as "m o ra l i mb e c i l i t y " ( w h i c h h a d n o t h

in g to do wi th intel ligence but was instead concerned w it h socia l co n

form ity) or somet imes even "m o ra l insanity ." In the twent ieth centu ry

s uc h i n d i v i d ua l s were then classif ied as ha vin g "character disorders,"

st i l l im p ly in g some flaw o f character, as i f a healthy person w o u ld au

t om a t i c a l l y and consistently act v irtuously. Today, such assumptions

appear naive , id iosyn crat ic , and eth nocentr ic . (As I was to ld more than

once in Switzer lan d, a Bav ar ian , act ing l ike a B ava r ian, wo ul d in Swit

zerland be classi f ied as mental ly deranged). Personal ity disorders st i l l

create some metaphoric dissonance, and Jungian therapists often re

fer to "disorders of the Self" instead. This last metaphor , whi le shun

n i n g m or al i sm , comes c loser to the tru th . W hi le we do no t kno w the

Self, that my sterious a nd dyn am ic purposefulness in each of us, each

o f us does have "a sense o f Self."

T h e sense of Sel f is carried in a congeries of intrapsychic imagoes.

Life is inherent ly t raumat ic . At b i r t h w e a r e r i p p e d f r o m p r i m o r d i a l

c on n e c t i on , beneficent be long ing, are f lung into an uncerta in w or ld ,

and end in annihi lat ion. The magnitude and qual i tat ive character of

t h e i n e v i t a b l e w oun d i n g shapes the sensibi l i ty of the person, that is ,

program s the intrapsychic imago in pro fou nd an d re flexive ways, the

ima go t hrou gh wh ich we interpret the spectrum of exper iences w hi ch

come to us . From the chi ld ' s phenomenological reading of the env i-




ron m ent an d experiences, a sense o f Self, a sense of Other , and acquired

strategies of transactions between them are assembled. This assemblage

constitutes the inev itable false self or provis ional personality w i t h w h i c h

we enter the w o r l d . Inv aria bly it is a misr ead ing , for it lacks alternative

experiences, lacks conscious ref lect ivity, and remains trapped in thefallacy of overgeneral izat ion.

For the c h i l d who experiences the world as essential ly overwhelm

ing — the abusive father, the needy m other, the gr im w or ld of pove r t y —

a p r o f o u n d sense of powerlessness prov ides the core d at um from w h ic h

a c o p i n g strategy must emerge. That person w i l l learn, quite logical ly

in the face of the powerful Other out there, patterns of avoidance, ag

gression, or m ost l ikely, c o m p l i a n c e w i t h the demands of the env iron ment . The more adaptat ion which is necess itated by environmental

demands , the greater the degree of se l f -a l ienat ion. From such an in

trapsychic imago comes, for example , codependence, which always

repeats the m at rix of the pow er o f the other, to w h o m one m ust adapt

one's own real ity in search of approval of that other.

T h e chi ld w h o experiences the w o rl d as essentially insufficien t, w i t h

hi s or her core needs for nour ish m ent and af firmat ion un met , w i l l tend

to internalize a sense o f self s im ila rly based o n absence, w i l l c ol lud e

w i t h his or her ow n dev aluat io n, and w i l l enter the w or ld not on ly w i t h

d i m i n i s h e d expectat ions but w i t h self-defeating, confirmative behav

iors as well . O r, just as logically, he or she w i l l spend a l i fet ime solic it

ing the affirmations of the other. W h i l e often choosing persons who

are affectively im pa ir ed themselves, he or she contin ues to im pl o re the

oth er for solace, yet expects and usua l ly receives d is a ppoint m e nt . Fr om

such intrapsychic imagoes, addict ive behaviors an d replicat ive relat io n

ships transpire.

In that sector of h u m a n i t y called person ality disord ers, or disorders

of self, we see that the central phenomenon is the power of the i n t r a

psychic imago to overrule the dictates of reason, experience, and the

counsel of others. From the outset of modern psychology, therapistsrecognized a category of pat ients who could consciously experience

their l ives bu t lacked the ca paci ty to reflect, to internal ize , gain ins ight ,

and to wo rk th rou gh tow ard a l ternat ives . W h i l e this dilemma is often

f o u n d i n a w i d e range of personality disorders, we may here reflect on




what has since come to be cal led the borderl ine personal ity disorder.

W h i l e l i terature on the phenomenon goes back to the 1890s, the term

borderline was f irst used in the 1930s for a group of persons who were

not psychotic yet whose co nd iti on s d id not resemble garden-v ariety

neuroses either.W h a t i s co m m on to a l l personal i ty disorders , or disorders o f self, is

that the p r i mo r di a l experiences ten d to obliterat e the nascent self, w h i c h

then impairs the developmental capacity of ego to discern conscious

alternatives. M os t often these p ri m or d ia l experiences are of phys ical

or emo tion al abuse, sometimes of profoun d neglect, sometimes f rom

cultura l cataclysms but most often from w i t h i n the family of o r i g i n .

These p r i m o r d i a l experiences fracture the emergent ego and diffuse itscore, a process that one may describe as an identity dif fusion. Thus,

one lacks an integrated sense of self and/or an integrated sense of the

other. Fr om this diffuse sense o f self one often suffers fro m feelings o f

chronic emptiness that are manifest in impo veri shed relationships w i t h

others.

A d d i t i o n a l l y , the defenses which this person acquires are relatively

p r i mi t i v e , as befits the pr im ac y of their etiology. Th us , repression an d

avoidance are most c om m on , for thereby one escapes the repl icat io n

of pai nful , ove rwh elm ing experience. Secondly, sp l i t t in g is co m m on .

It is very diff icult for this shattered self to handle the stress of anxiety,

ambiguity, and ambivalence, so he or she w i l l tend to polar ize experi

ences into a l l good or a l l bad . The b ord erl ine w i l l enter therapy by ex

alting the poten tial em bod ied by the new therapist, denigrate the former

therapist, and t u r n on the new therapist as soon as he or she fails to

meet often unre al ist ic expectations. So, too, in intim ate relationship s,

the other is a l l good, but when revealed to be human and f lawed, be

comes a l l ba d , and one m ust m ove qu ick ly to the next person to renew

h o p e .

Because the sense of self is so fragile, he or she ca nn ot ho ld very m uch

painful affect. T hr ou gh the m echa nism of projective ident i f icat ion, the

person projects onto others the painful and intense feelings he or she

cann ot c on ta in, process, or render consciou s. A s he or she often fears

the intensity of those affects, he or she wi l l i m p l i c i t l y fear the power of

the other onto whom such energies have been projected. As a projec-

T H E R A P E U T I C I M A G I N I N G S ( 1 0 7 )



t io n is by definit ion un con sciou s, one is not aware that the other wh o m

I fear is in fact carrying part of my identity. The stalker is a notable

example of a person w ho is t rapped i n project ive iden t i f icat io n, wh o

has projected onto another an essential part o f the self a n d i s anxio us ly

needy for that mis sin g piece or terr if ied of ow ni ng it i n a persona l way.H enc e the stalker resists reaso n, rejectio n, an d even co urt ord ers to stay

away from the other for he or she is incapable of internal iz ing . Us ua l ly

such affairs en d in sanction s, inc arce rat i on , or the object o f pro ject i on

shift ing to someone else, seldo m i n consciou s ref lect ion. Su ch self-de

feat ing behavior is mute test imony to the power of the intrapsychic

imago . W ha t cannot be conta ined inwa rdly seemingly mu st be pur

sued ou twardly . Ev en more c om m on i n border l ine behavior is the needto co nt rol the other lest those threaten ing affects have too large an au

t o n o m y .

H a n d i n h a n d w i t h repression, spl i t t ing , a nd pr o j e c t ion goes d e nia l .

Th e borde r l ine personal i ty d isorder suffers f rom an im pa ired capacity

f or r e s pons i b i l i t y , f or r e s po ns ib i l i t y r e q uire s no s m a l l m e a s ur e o f

s trength and res i l ience . In order to avoid the problem of pa inful or

incon sistent experiences, the person disow ns t hem by saying, "It is never

m y fault. Y ou have m isun dersto od m e. Yo u di d this or that and caused

a ll of these pro blem s." O ne co u ld say that the real ity of the bo rd erl in e

suffers from excess labi l i ty rather th an consistency, given that his or h er

formative experiences no doubt were inconsistent.

Nex t to nu rtura nce a nd security, we need consistency i n relationships

most i f we are to form a sense of self w h i c h has consistency as well . A s a

com pensa tion for that inconsistent sense o f self, the bord erlin e is often

driven to a form of inflation to counterbalance the devalued sense o f

self. The other plays too large a role in one's life and therefore one is

obliged to magnify one's own importance, how misunderstood one is ,

h o w m uc h inju ry has been done to one, or how wo nd erful one's int en

t ions are.

M o s t o f all , one finds in these personality disorders a resistance tointerpretat ion, that is , to the conscio us a ckno wled gm ent an d affect ive

internal izat ion of the dynamics of his or her l i fe . Developing such a

capacity, w hi ch is the requis ite for gro w th an d change, is often i m po s

sible for one w i t h an unstable and fragile sense o f self. Even the best




efforts of the therapist wi l l be rejected by this hosti le rejoinder, w hi ch

is i n fact a sad cri de coeur. As one analyst describes i t , ' " D o n ' t y o u d are

try to find m e a n in g o r m a ke sense of th is . There is no meaning and

there w i l l be none. ' This is another way of phrasing the motif of de

spair: ' M y l ife is bad : Do n't you d are see it any other way.'"6

I t i s the reca lc i trance of the intrapsychic imago, the fa l lacy of

overgen eral ization, wh ic h leads to this sad impasse, this repetit ive con

tretemps. The im pa irm en t of the ego begets p o o r im p u l se c o n t r o l , so

that he or she often acts rashly and reaps painful consequences. The

ego lacks the capacity to tolerate what Freud calls l ife's normal miser

ies, the daily experience of anxiety, ambiguity, and ambivalence. The

ego finds little o p p o r t u n i t y fo r s u b l i m a t i o n o f needs through a l ternative paths of gratif icat ion and instead tends toward obsessional preoc

c up a t i on w i t h another perso n, an im agi ned s l ight , or a hunger. A n d he

or she often suffers from a po or ly developed superego, that is , a set of

consistent, norm ativ e values, for the value system is mo st often d eriv a

t ive of obl i terat in g p r i m o r d i a l experiences.

W e recal l Rilke's ackn owled gm ent that the deeper experience of the

present beloved was stirred by the memories of the personal mother.

B ut he also knew that the persona l m oth er was a brid ge to the realm of

the M ot he rs, that is , to the w o rl d of feeling, ins t inct , b o d y , a n d w o r l d .

So, too often, the person who suffers shattering p r i m o r d i a l experience

not only transfers such dynamics to other relationships, and cannot

ima gine that these curren t relationships are possibly un iq ue or dif fer

ent, bu t has extended the power o f the ima go to a l l other relation ships

as we ll .

A s Ri lke evoked the archetypal realm of the m oth ers, w hi ch courses

beneath the renewed guise of intimacy and was mediated for good or

i l l by th e p r i m o r d ia l e n c o u n te r w i t h the mother, so the personal ity

diso rder is stuck i n an archetypal fantasy. The power of the screen wh ic h

the imago represents, all ied w i t h a di m in ish ed personal strength, ex

tends the p r i m o r d i a l h u r t , betraya l, an d loss to the unive rse. W h i l e such

conclusio ns are log ica l , in that they fo l low a certa in pr im o rd ia l se

que nce, as A was, so B shall be, they also b i n d one to repetit ive history.

A l l o f u s a r e w o u n d e d . O r d i n a r y n e u r o t i c s a r e c o n s c i o u s o f t h e i r

wounds and often conclude that they themselves are their own worst




enemy. The personal i ty d isorder is subsum ed by the w ou nd , ident i f ied

w i t h i t , an d can l it erally im ag ine no other. H e or she is caught i n a

poverty of i m a g i n a t i o n . The n eurot i c tends to take too mu ch respo n

sibility, and the personality disorder, too l i tt le. Each suffers, but the

former has a greater capacity for gro w th given that pa in ful measure ofresponsibi l i ty . The neurot ic has a greater chance of change f rom in

sight, an d the personality d isorder is best identified by the sad i ron wheel

o f repeated experiences i n w h ic h he or she, l ike Ix i on of ancient Greece,

seems cursed by the gods. W h i l e one can learn f rom the d iscernment

o f patterns, the other sees repet i t ion as co nf irm at i on , and therefore is

predisposed to repl ica t ion .

O n l y two therapeutic hopes survive in the treatment of personalitydisorders. A s any therapist w i l l confirm, the therapist is often b u l l i e d ,

m a n i p u l a t e d , even vi l i f ied by the bord erl ine pat ient. Therapists ten d to

b u r n out a nd then feel guilty abou t their anger tow ard the pat ient, wh o

con sistently resists the therapist's best efforts. Change does occur, some

t imes , but on ly wh en the intrapsychic imago can be reprog ram m ed, o r

better, wh en an alternative im ago of rou ghly comp etit ive power can be

f o rm e d. Since insight is seldo m internal ized, the cont in ued support o f

the ego, repet i t ion, reinforcement, and support w i l l somet imes provide

a reparenting experience. It also allows the formation of, so to speak,

an alternat ive ego der ived f rom another p r i m or d ia l exper ience . Sec

ondly, in moderate to severe personality disorders, the transference is

the analysis. Tha t is, the reparen tin g experience, based o n a posi tive

transference, when achievable, is more healing than insight itself. The

experience of therapy as the constant context of care creates an alter

native to the devastation of earlier experience and can, over time, ges-

tate an enlarged sense of self w h i c h makes o ther choices possible. W h e n

one's experience of relationship has caring , aff irma tion, and constancy,

one may be able to make different choices out of an alternative para

d i g m . Sadly, the pow er of the first , p ri m or d ia l experience is of suc h

m ag nitu de , that such reparen ting, even strong ly posit iv e transference,is difficult at best. The paradox of the personality disorder is that the

extension o f personal , ad hoc experience to the archetypal field is i l lus

trative of b o t h the power o f the fixated image a nd the imp ov er ishm ent

o f im a gin a t ion to go b e y ond i t . 7




The patience and compassion of the therapist are sorely tested by

the bord erl ine personal ity d isorder. The therapist is obl iged to patiently

repeat c lar i f icat ion ("what issue or dynamic is present here?"), con

f rontat ion ("why the same response each t im e?") , and interpretat io n

("this response comes from what archaic perception?"). A n d , as Jungalways challeng ed therapists to d o, they mu st present themselves as l ife

models, display a more integrated and variegated response to l i fe 's

suffering, and show how one can l ive w i t h courage, d ignit y, an d resi l

i en ce in a f ra c tio u s a n d w o u n d in g w o r l d .

O n e i l lu str at io n may suffice: the story of M a r c i , a th irty-nine-year-

o ld schoolteacher. B ea ut ifu l, in tellig en t, gifted, energetic, she was for

ever misera ble. Inside her was a poverty, an emptiness, an d an obsessive

hunger, w hic h were expressed by bouts of b u l i m i a a n d by h u r r i e d , fre

netic, reproachful re la t ionships . She had m arr ied early , and div orced

short ly thereaf ter , an immature man who made money and used co

ca ine in ascending order of importance. She had a h istory of eat ing

disorders , ad dict io ns to a lcohol and pills, serial relationships, and two

suicide attempts. She was the daughter of a narcissist ic mother who

was neglectful, de m an di ng, and cri t ical and who repeatedly slapped her

about. M a r c i st i l l cal led her " M o m m y . " H er father was passive— his job

was to make money, take care o f M o m m y , a n d k eep h is m o u t h s h u t.

M a r c i entered thera py i n the grip o f a new obsessional relatio nship

w i t h Terry, also a passive male still u n de r the th u m b o f a do m in e e r in g

father. Terry was afraid to alienate his ex-mate by com plet in g a divorce,

c o u ld not confron t his father w ho con tin ue d to con tro l his li fe, an d

w o u l d not com m it to therapy h imsel f. The in trapsychic imago of the

p r i m o r d i a l experience continues to have its way w i t h bo th adults. Terry

is on e o f ma ny rela t ionships M a r c i has ha d , she hav ing chosen precisely

those m en w ho c ou ld not be there for her either. H er anger against the

immature parents could not be enacted by the c h i l d , so the parental

imagoes were fueled by a subtext o f rage w h i c h was enacted by her self-

destructive behaviors and her assaults on others. For insta nce, she tele

p h o n e d the new g ir l f r iend of her o ld boyfr iend to tell her, falsely, that

he was car ryin g a venereal disease. A t th e same t i m e M a r c i is racked by

a piteous terror of abandonment. She fol lowed her boyfriends, tele

p h o n e d them incessantly a t wo rk, and genera lly crowd ed the m out o f

T H E R A P E U T I C I M A G I N I N G S ( H i )



her life w i t h her incessant need . W h en asked what she most wish ed ,

she repl ied , "to be adored."

W h a t is necessary to the c h i l d , and remained unfulf i l led, persists as

a p r i m i t i v e , obsessional fantasy for the adult . N o one co uld ever m e a

sure up to that need, especial ly from the crowd of debil itated loversshe had a ssembled. B ot h by her choice o f partners, an d her replicat ive

behaviors , M a r c i remained chained to the Ix ion wheel of repet i t ive

w o u n d i n g . The therapy transpired over m any years and i n t ime evolved

toward the introject ion of a more stable, constant sense o f self, a n d a

more real ist ic expectat ion of the other. Her therapy ended w i t h her

marr iage to the person who fol lowed Terry . One would l ike to hope

that her life is freer than ever before from the power of the past and

that the ima gin at i on has con strued a wi der a nd deeper f ield in w hi ch

to play.

Two other, briefer examples of the con str i ct i on of the im ag in at io n

w h i c h we call personality disorders may suff ice. The sociopathic per

sonal i ty , a lso known as the ant isocia l personal i ty , conta ins i t s own

Janus-faced d i l em m a . W o u n d e d by society, it w ou nd s society i n r e t ur n .

H e or she can never replace the possibilit ies inherent in any new rela

t i on s h i p w i t h an yth ing other than the betrayal o f the p r i m o r d i a l rela

t io n sh ip s . Th e an tiso cia l perso na lity 's ever-present challenge is , " I f

mother and father could so betray, how could I ever expect anything

dif ferent?" E xpect in g to be wou nd ed ever anew, the sociopath may be

overtly aggressive, or s i lent ly cha rm ing and m anip ulat iv e , but re lat ion

ships are always about control l ing the other lest one be co nt rolle d .

A m o n g the salient characteristics are the following features which

emanate f rom a locked-in imago. A sense of personal entit lement is

com pen satio n for general ized feel ings o f unw orthiness and em pt iness.

The ready exploitat ion of others derives from fear of others. W h y so

m u c h fear? Because it is p r i m o r d i a l , derived from the powerlessness of

the chi ld to defend itself. Th is hist or ic , reflexive enc ou nter w i t h the

other carr ies a zero-sum con clus i on : I use yo u, or you w i l l surely usem e. A n ti so ci a l acts represent the sociopath's g eneral izat i on o f al l the

orig inal destructive dyads to everyth ing a nd everyone he or she en co un

ters . Transient relat i onsh ips, m ul t ip le ma rriages, an d the ina bi l it y to

c o m m i t derive from the fear o f b o n d i n g w i t h the intimate other, ex-

( l l 2 ) A R C H E T Y P A L I M A G I N A T I O N



pect ing that other w i l l on ly repeat the w orld 's w o u n d i n g . A n i m p a i re d

feeling fun ctio n is ample test im ony to a feel ing func tio n that was once

ove r wh e lm e d .

M o s t o f us can bear later t r a u m a t i z i n g experiences and not become

sociopaths because most people generally have a stronger, more resilient ego, al lowing us to base o u r sense of h um a nit y on m or e b e nign

pa r a d igm s . D e m or a l iz in g a nd d e va lu ing e xper ie nc es s uch as im pr i s

onm e nt i n a c onc e nt r a t ion c a m p c o u l d , of course, be sufficiently dev

astating to one's sense of self and value system as to overwhelm our

n a tu ra l capacity to relate to others, as the powerful novel and film The

Pawnbroker dem onstrated. Last ly , and m ost im port an t ly , the ina bi l i ty

to internal ize , to compare and contrast , and to image forth other possibi l i t ies i s a measure of the magnitude of ear ly devastat ion of the

nascent ego. One sociopath I knew had repeated marriages and was

abusive i n al l of t h e m . The terr ible paradox of needing the nurtu rance

o f the feminine and at the same time fearing and fighting against it

argued for an early traumatic encounter w i t h the mother. Such per

sons are ha rd to l ike, or ha rd to find em path y for, bu t insid e is a cower

in g c h i l d whose tears w ou ld break ou r heart i f we cou ld but hear them .

T h e false self of the sociop ath , based o n abuse a n d v i c t i m i z a t i o n , b u t

tressed by fear a n d rage, w i t h i t s epiphenomenal behaviors of socia l

warfare, is a po rtra it of terror iz ing terror w hi ch is itself terr if ied.

The narciss ist ic personality disorder is often deceptive to us. Such

person s, so vested i n co nt ro l o f others, often app ear assured a nd self-

possessed, bu t therei n lies the ir terri ble secret. W e recall the a ncie nt

story of the youth Narcissus, who stares in to the po o l an d falls i n love

w i t h his ow n image. W e are u sually ann oyed at narcissists, for we th in k

they are in love w i t h themselves. In fact, their secret is that when they

stare into the mirror , no one stares back.

A l l of us are bo rn w i t h the universal need for iden tity support , w h i c h

w e a c qu i re t h r o u g h b o n d i n g , a n d m i r r o r i n g i n t he faces and behav

iors of others. Fro m the " m i r r o r " o f others we derive a pro vi s io na l senseof self, of relative worthiness , an d, moreover , an in di ca t io n o f what to

expect from the w o r l d . W h e n the caregiver is i m p a i r e d , depressed per

hap s, or narcissistic also, little aff irmin g energy f lows tow ard the needy

ch i ld . H e or she then suffers a dram atic def icit , an em ot io na l starva-




t i o n as it were. H e or she w i l l then spend a li fetim e seeking solace, seek

ing love, power, or whatever might fill the terrible emptiness w i t h i n

a n d persuade others of his or her worth.

Such a person w i l l loo k to con tro l others, force them to adm ire h i m

or her. W h e n the narcissist is a pare nt, the ch ild re n are used as reflective mirrors to bolster a shaky sense o f self. The narcissist in general

tries to spl it relationsh ips am on g others, to keep the m as spokes on a

wheel joined to one center. I f they talk among themselves, compare

notes, an d co nspire , then the j ig is up and they ma y gather strength to

walk away from the needy parent. Because n o ch i ld can walk away from

it s ow n nur tur an t source, i t often takes m any years for the mature ch i ld

to gather stren gth sufficient to save himself or herself . If a person doesattem pt to do so, he or she u sua lly endu res a great deal o f b i n d i n g g u i l t ,

r e c r i mi n a t i o n , and m any unsuccessful attempts. I f a narcissist can find

a dependent personal ity, as M arc i 's m othe r d i d , the n he or she wil l form

a binding re la t ionship but one whose premise is predicated on the

defense against emptiness.

W e a ll have narc iss ist ic wounds, in f l ic ted because l ife is unable to

affirm and n urtu re us wh en we most need i t , but the narc iss ist ic wo u nd

is not as systemic as the narcissist ic perso nal ity disord er, w hi ch is de

f ined by that wound. In the more Jungian language o f "the disorder of

self," the p ro v i s io n a l sense o f self speaks: "I am he or she wh o is nau ght.

A t m i r r o r ' s edge I peek t im orou sly , or w i t h bra v a do , in to yo u r eyes to

see what stares back at me. I fear always that nothing w i l l r e t u r n m y

needy gaze. A n d my wh ole l ife w i l l be a stratagem to move you into a

reflective po sit io n whereby I m igh t hope to becom e rea l ."

In the last twenty years of the twentieth century, one heard much

about codependence. W h i l e it is not yet classif ied as a personality dis

order, i t m igh t be characterized as a diso rder o f self. Codependence has

never been inc luded in the DSM, but it was seriously debated at the

last go-round. Given the ubiquity of codependent behavior , such an

inc lus ion w ou ld be a n ightm are for insurance com panies , for v ir tu a l lya ll of us w ou ld be candidates.

A s is true for personal ity disorders, codependence is an expression

o f the pro blem of power. The w o r l d , the ad ult, an d the caregiver have

power while the ch i ld does not. Power itself is neutral. It is merely the




expression of energy between two entities. W h e n caught i n a com plex ,

it c a n b e d e m onic . W h e n the w o rl d misuses pow er, the chi ld is obli ged

to adapt in pro fou nd ways i n ord er to surv ive. In effect, codep end ence

is an anxiety d isorder because the power of the other is i m p l i c i t in a l l

rela t ionships , having been transferred ref lexively from the historic tothe con tem pora ry. A s one's security lies w i t h the other, so one becom es,

reflexively, defined by the other an d one is oblig ed to adapt one's t r u t h

to serve the demands of that other. One learns to cover one's actual

feelings lest they prove costly in evoking the displeasure of the other.

H o w m a ny ind iv id ua ls d o y ou k n ow wh o say s om e t h ing pa in f u l , a nd

then laugh, as if to mask their pain lest they, fearfully, be taken seri

ously for having uttered their truth?Codependents tend to be nervous and uncomfortable when a lone.

T h o u g h they secretly fear others, they have been def ined by them and

lose a sense of self when the other is not present. They have generally

learned to be nice, for niceness is un iversally adaptive an d may some

t imes even yie ld rewards. B ut to be reflexively nice is to co nt in uo us ly

trade one's t r u t h an d betray one's integrity, wh ic h is no t a pretty th ing.

M a n y so-cal led Codependents Anonymous groups are in fact Recov

e r i n g N ic e Pe r s ons Anony m ous gr oups .

Cod epend ents rou tin ely place the needs o f others before their o w n .

U n l i k e narcissists, they have learned that to get a long yo u go a long , an d

their o w n unm et needs are chro ni c an d depressive. To treat this ch ron ic

deficit, they are pron e to add ict io ns to soften their p a i n . Th ey are filled

w i t h shame, excessively modest, and sabotage the ir v is ion s . Th ey have

learn ed to keep the peace, usu ally at all costs. Th ey feel respon sible for

the we ll-being o f others. A n d they have diff icult ies establishing b o u n d

aries , the dem arcations o f legit imate self- interest an d self-worth. M a n y

o f them grow up to be professional care-givers, such as nurses and so

cial workers, because they have become deeply identified w i t h the power

o f t he ot h er a nd t he d im in i s h m e nt o f self. They may be martyrs , or

s i m p l y always pro du ctive persons, but they suffer depression, bu rn ou t,a n d the angu ish of the c h r on i c a l l y unm et . W ha t we are d escr ib ing here

is a d isorder of self, for the integrity of the self is repeatedly and w i l l

fully violated in service to the archaic imago.

Roger was the mo st codepend ent m an I had ever met. For thirty years




he was married to a narciss ist ic woman who, even after their divorce,

stalked h i m , te lephoned h i m i n the mid d le of the nigh t , an d sought to

c on t r o l his second m arr iage . H is second wife was un derstandab ly d is

t ressed w hen wife n um ber one tur ne d up one day and dema nded sex

f rom Roger. Powerless as he was, he con sented . Th en he was ca ught i nthe codependent 's nightmare, trying to please c om pe t ing c la im s . He

knew what he had done was wrong, but he had felt powerless to say

no. H is therapy involv ed funda men tal reparent ing, to g ive perm iss ion

and legit imacy to the personal boundaries , and to counter the terr ible

inequit ies of powe r wh ic h h a unt h is p r i m o r d i a l i m a g i n a t i o n .

H e a l i n g demand s the re- im ag ini ng of sel f an d w or ld , and i t is not

an easy task. The power of the archaic imago accounts for our resis

tance to change, and thus requires the steady, patient, repetitive work

of therapy. W e all w o u ld l ike to believe that i f we c ou ld heal ou r env i

ronment (and some professional caregivers entered their professions

i n the fantasy that this was possible), then it would be there for us,

n u r t u r a n t , protect ive , and predictable . I f we co ul d fix ou r partners, get

our chi ldren to espouse ou r values, get a better job , acquire m ore m oney,

or power, or prestige, then life would be better, would it not?

B ut hea ling requires that we become psych olog ica l , against o ur w i l l

i n m os t cases. O u r comp lexes, our neuroses, ou r person ality disord ers

all derive from early or especial ly pow erful experience int erna lized as

m yth o l o g ic a l systems. It is not that we live in a m ythless age. W e are al l

i n service to those m yt ho lo gi ca l im agoes, those charged value systems,

those repet i tive wo rld v iews, wh ic h ow n us and d r ive us to serve h is

tory. W e begin to free ourselves from their archaic powers when we can

ask, am id the detr itus of d aily li fe , these quest ions: W ha t does this ac

t ivate i n m y history? W here does this com e from in me? W ha t is the

pattern, and i ts source , w hi ch I repeat? W ha t is " the wo un de d wi sh "

m y choices really serve? Su ch quest ions are l iberat ing, an d to ask them

requires strength and courage, for one can no longer blame someone

else or seek fut i le ly to invent an external world that w i l l heal us.H e a l i n g is the capacity for reimaging our relat ionship to the Self.

Underneath the sense of self is the Self itself. It is always th ere, o u r n atu re

n a t u r i n g , seeking to becom e itself, an d it is always expressing its h ol is

tic intent . The purpose of therapy, whether i n com pan y w i t h a thera-




pist or in a d ia logue w i t h ourselves, is to attend the teleological voice

o f the Self w hen i t speaks th rou gh the venue of the bod y, thr ou gh rep-

l icat ive pa t t e r ns , t h r ough c om pe ns a t or y d r e a m im a ge , t h r ough t h e

analysis of complexes, or through the grace of ins ight and renewing

v i s i o n .The source of the self-disorder is not the Self; it is the power of the

w o u n d i n g w or ld . The source o f renewal is the still , quiet voice of the

Self w h i c h may be h eard by those w ho w ish to hear, w ho retain the ca

pac ity to hear, or w ho are d riv en to hear. A s Jung has noted, the encou n

ter w i t h the Self is often experienced as a defeat for the ego. So it is in

the experience of defeat that renewal w i l l be fou nd , throu gh a "terr ible

grace" in w h ic h other images m ay present themselves to consciousnessa n d throu gh the yearning for mea nin g wh ich leads us throu gh pain to

plenitude.

N o n e of us escapes l i fe unscathed, or evades i m p r i s o n m e n t b y o u r

reactions an d misreadings of li fe 's t rau ma ta . H o w dif ficult , perhaps

im p o ss ib l e , to be i n the present unless we are i n an inst inctual response

or a re- ima gined m om ent . H o w pow erful is what Freu d cal led the rep

et i t ion co m p u ls io n , no t onl y the reflex b ut the desire to repeat even

w o u n d i n g h is t or y because i t is fam il iar to us. I f ou r fr iend is our on ly

f r iend, and that friend repeatedly betrays us, we may stil l cl ing to that

f r iend rather than face the terror of a great lonely , un form ed freedom.

Perhaps the on ly true path ology is fou nd i n d eni al , for i n den ial there

is no possible purchase o n the present. H o w hard it is to come to re

sponsib i l i ty for our lives, to affirm that:

I am responsible for m y hi sto ry (at least after adolescence).

I am responsible for my personal well-being.

I am responsible for my indiv iduat ion imperat ive, from wh ich fear

alone keeps me separated.

In the category of person ality disorders one is trap ped i n the pow er o fan archetypal im ago. For those who rem ain o nly neurot i c , the i d e n t i

f icat ion w i t h one's defenses is na tu ra l bu t regressive. E ac h of us is pre

sented w i t h a r i dd le , just as the nov ice receives i n the koan of the Zendo :

" W h a t y o u have b e co m e is n o w y o u r p r o b l e m ! " W h a t w e have as-




sembled, necessarily, now stands in the way, and we are obliged to risk

new att itudes, behaviors, and much larger v is ions.

Strange as it may seem, we have to invent a "second ad ul t ho od " as a

necessary fiction, even as the hackneyed "inner c h i l d " was invented to

acknowledge the power of history. W ha t was too large for that ch i ld isnow the agenda for the adult. The adult has greater ego strength, ca

p a c i t y f or r e f l e c t i on a n d ob j e c t i v i t y , a n d a l t e r n a t i v e p os s i b i l i t i e s

unavailable to the c hi ld . W ha t restrains us is fear, for sure, and the con

straints of the imagination. None of us can escape psycho-pathology,

the ubi qu itou s woun ds to the soul , and the disto rt ions o f ou r na tura l

paths which resul t . The inv i tat ion i s to summon courage to take on

the world anew, to re l inquish outmoded ident i t ies and defenses, a nd

risk a radical re- imagining of the larger possibi l i t ies of the world and

of self.

There are lame gods in this world, as Stephen D u n n poetical ly i l -

lustrates, and there are wounded gods at the heart of every sou l, as Jung

tells us. B ut the m ystery o f psyche pulsates an d permu tates— every tim e

we look in the mirror we are different, and the mirror is different, and

wheresoever dy ing is done, b ir th is b o r n . A s poet Edw ard H i r s c h muses,

One thinks of the gods dissolving in mid-air

And the towering stillness of a cathedral at dawn.

Raindrops break th e watery skin ofponds

And ponds are shattered mirrors of the absolute}




A F T E R W O R D

C^Jle-c^maqininq the (^>oul


beyond our grasp. Thus, as the meaning-seeking, meaning- creating

species, we depend on the image w h i c h arises out of depth encounters.T h i s image, as we have seen, is not itself d i v i n e , though it carries and is

a n i m a t e d by the eternal exchange of that energy which we may call

d i v i n e . The husk w h i c h such energy inhabits is perishable, as we know

o u r own bodies to be. W h i l e we would understandably cl ing to that

husk, be it this body, or this ego-concept, or this g o d , we w o u l d be better

served trying to h o l d the ocean in our hands.

The deep stir and tumult has another source, and another end, be

y o n d that which our l i m i t e d consciousness could ever frame. Yet the

fragile reed, as Blaise Pascal reminded us, is a " t h i n k i n g reed" and cou

rageously conjures w i t h that in f in i ty which could so casually destroy

it. That disparity, the longing for eternity and the l imits of finitude, is

o u r d i l e m m a , the conscious suffering o f w h i c h is also what most marks

o u r species. It is the symbolic capacity w h i c h defines us uniquely. The

images which arise out of the depths, be they the burning bush of b ib

l ical imagery, the complaint of the body, or the dream we dream to

n i gh t , l i n k us to that t h r o b b i n g , insistent hum which is the sound of

the eternal . As c h i ldr e n we listened to the sound o f the sea still echoing

i n the shell we picked up by the shore. That ancestral roar l inks us to

the great sea which surges w i t h i n us as well .

W e perforce recall that psyche and soul have been split in our time,the former assigned to the uneasy calculations o f the psychologists, the

latter to the r i g i d fingers o f the theologians. Yet, surely, the two are one,

for what most deeply affects our relationship to depth, to the gods,

permeates our being. The flight of the psychologists from the large-



ness of this agenda is a form of moral cowardice, and the attempt of

m u c h theology to protect us from religious experience is sham eful. Fo r

b o t h , the reality of the soul is suspect, fearfully avoided, and contrib

utes to the d i m i n u t i o n o f the sp ir i tua l potentia l o f the i n d i v i d u a l . W h o

among us has been encouraged to wonder at "the starry skies aboveand the moral law w i t h i n , " as Ka nt did? Jung c erta inly d i d . In a 1945

letter he writes,

I know it is exceedingly diff icult to write anything definite or de

scriptive about the progression of psychological states. It always

seemed to me as i f the real milestones were certa in sym bol ic events

characterized by a strong em oti on al tone. You are q uite r ight , them a i n interest of my work is not concerned w i t h the treatment of

neuroses but rather w i t h the approach to the numinous. But the

fact that the approach to the numinous is the real therapy and

inasmuch as you atta in to the numinous experiences you are re

leased from the curse of pathology. Even the very disease takes o n

a numinous character . 1

Even the disease takes on a numinous character! You w i l l not find that

sentence in the DSM-IV, and that is what is wrong w i t h modern psy

chology—it has no soul , that is , no depth, and is unintentionally de

me anin g to the person and his or her ow n hig h cal l ing. M oreove r, as

Jung says, the approach to the numinous is the real therapy. Thus any

therapist, any cleric who does not suffer and persist in a personal en

gagement w i t h the problem of meani ng, w i t h the forever transforming

n u m i n o u s , can not be said to be part o f a healin g or enlarging process.

W h i l e descr ibing and count ing behaviors may be provis ion al ly use

fu l and certainly contribu te to statistics, such an approach to psycho l

ogy may prove an unw itt i ng contr ivance to avoid the num ino us . O ne

recal ls the w ry observ ation of Be nja m in D isra el i wh o said that there

are three kinds of lies: l ies, d am n lies, an d statistics. It is for th is reason

that Jungian psychology has sought its gro un di ng in m y t h , the Marchen,

alchem ical texts, an d other suspect sources. A s Ric ha rd Tarnas observes,

the transcendent may be "approached through myth and the poet ic

i m a g i n a t i o n , as well as by attending to a k i n d o f aesthetic resonance

( 1 20 ) A F T E R W O R D



w i t h i n the psyche tou ched off by the presence o f the archetypa l in veiled

form w i th the p h e n o m e n a l w o r l d . " 2

T h e release f rom pathology is by numinous encounter , which may

shatter the ego states but w hi ch bring s one int o enlarged experience.

T h i s movement of psyche is best discerned in the creative act of m yt h,dre a m , a n d fantasy. T h e l im i ts o f o u r c o n d i t i o n were w e l l expressed by

Protagoras twenty-five hundred years ago: "Co nc er ni ng the gods, I have

no means o f k n o w i n g whether they exist or not , no r o f what form they

are; for there are m any obstacles to such know ledg e, in cl u d in g the

obscurity of the subject and the shortness of human l i fe. " 3

O u r d i lem m a is even more dra ma tica l ly descr ibed by the Tha i B u d

d h i st m o n k A j a h n C h a h :

Nowhere in the world is there any real peace to be found. The

p o o r have n o peace and neither do the r ich . A d u l t s have n o peace,

chi ldren have n o peace, the poorly educated have n o peace, a n d

neither do the hig hly educated. There is no peace anywhere. That

is the nature of the world.

Those who have few possessions suffer an d so do those wh o have

many. Children, adults, the aged, everyone suffers. The suffering

o f being o ld , the suffering of being you ng , the suffering of bei ng

wealthy, and the suf fer ing of being poor—it ' s a l l nothing but

su f f e r in g . . . . E v e ry s in g l e m o m e n t w e a re u n de rg o in g b i r t h a n d

death. That is the way things are. 4

Yet a l l arou nd are what W ord swo rth ca l led int im ation s of im m or ta l

i t y — i n t i m a t i o n s , not certainties, but nonetheless real . W he n Jesus said

that his kingdom was spread all over the earth and we did not see it,

a n d P a u l E l u a rd asserted that the other w o r l d , the inv isible w o r l d , is this

one, then, in the midst of f initude, death, and suffering, there is still

something w hic h beckons, something wh ich summ ons us to enlarged

v oc a t i on . Jung defines the imperative of i n d i v i d u a t i o n as a vo ca tio n. Itis, he says, "a n irra tio na l factor wh ich destines a m an to emancipate

h i m s e l f from the herd and from its well-worn paths. True personal ity

is always a vocat ion and puts its trust in i t as in Go d . . . but vocat ion

acts l ike a law of God from which there is no escape."5

R E - I M A G I N I N G T H E S O U L ( l 2 l )



W h a t sum m ons us forth, then , is the image w hi ch is not the d iv in e

but for the m om ent conta ins the nu m in ou s . W e recal l that for Jung,

the archetypa l shap ing process is not o nly the w or k of inst inct , t h o u g h

it is surely that to some extent, but also the shaping of energy into

im a ge s wh ic h have spir i tua l im po rt . Such images ar ise au ton om ou slyou t o f de p th experience an d may be foun d i n the cataclysmic metanoia

o f Saul on the road to Damascus , in the metareal is t ic topography of

dreamscapes, or in the lowliest of creatures, as we rememb er the hum ble

d u n g beetle, scarab of the sacred. For us to re-collect the soul, to re

mem ber psyche, we are en joined to the contem plat io n o f the poet rather

t h a n the pathologist and the art ist rather than the psychologist .

Poet Stephen D u n n sum m ons such an encounter w i t h the transcen

dent throu gh the image o f the low liest of creatures, the co m m o n fly, i n

a p o e m t i t led " Th e R e s ur r e c tion . "

The poet has been s i tt ing, wait ing for the uncerta in muse to make

its appearance o n a winter 's day. N o t h i n g . . . his eye catches a fly wh ose

s om nole nc e h a s b e e n s t i r r e d b y t h e wa r m ing r oom a nd wh ic h now

begins to stir an d flit a b out . S om e t h ing w i t h i n the poet a lso stirs at thi s

s implest of events; the archetypal imagination is act ivated toward a

d r a m a t ur gy deeper than the mundane character of the object itself. It

tumbles over the banal into the divine; it is

a phenomenon that couldturn a hoy

from street crime to science

or, if less bright, to the church.

H e is captu red by the f ly relearnin g fl ight, pu shi ng against the w in d ow ,

w i t h its little fly 's heart. H is bl o od st irred by some ancient tremo r, some

archetypal ceremony, D u n n decides that he has been summoned to be

the poet of this fly, for all things great and small surely deserve a w i t

ness to the ir t roub led trans it .

A s a conscious being , D u n n kno ws wh at the fly canno t yet kno w , thatthe room is f inite, that the respite is f leeting, and that cold death still

waits beyon d the w ar m r o om . A n d the archetypal analogues are ines

capable. W e, the most fleeting, as R ilke rem in de d us, like the fly rise fro m

t o r p o r a n d f l ing ourselves against the transparent l imits of desire.

( l 2 2 ) A F T E R W O R D



To be a fly

was to fly in the face

of all that could defeat it,

and there was the pleasure ofshit

to look forward to, th e pleasureof botheringcows and people, the pleasure of pure speed.

B e i n g here, we, to o , are the most transient of b e i n g s , h u m m i n g and

b u zz i n g from shit to aesthetics. Then the poet sees other flies rise and

dash about ma dly. H e concludes that, for no w at least, he has been su m

m o n e d to be the

.. . poet offlies in winter

as they sought th e other side

of the glass, which was death,

victims of having once risen, ignorant

buggers, happy on bad evidence, warm, abuzz.''

W e, ignorant buggers, happy on bad e v ide nc e , w a r m , a bu zz for n o w ,

are s tirr ed by the low liest creatures, for i n the ir story the gods are pass

ing a n d the deepest d r a m a of w h i c h we too are a pass ing part . O n the

other side o f the transparent w ind ow s l ies cold death, but for no w there

is onl y the joy of th is fur ious bu zzi ng we c a l l l i fe. Ea ch of our neuroses

is w ra p p e d a ro u n d th i s p a ra do x , as a defense against it, an i g n o ra n t

protest, or a secret col lusion.

H o w c o u l d we be l i fted fro m our pathologies, Jung asked, if we are

n o t im a g in a t iv e l y o p e n to the d e p t h of those energ ies w hi ch bo th

conflate us a n d t u m b l e us in harness to the sea? The approach to the

n u m i n o u s , he insisted, is the tru e therapy . It wil l no more spare us suffer

ing or death than the other bu zzi ng buggers wh ich have been a mo

m e n t on th is earth . But , by way of the archetypal imaginat ion, these

b u zz i n g buggers o f w h i c h we are a part have i n t i m a t i o n s of i m m o r t a l ity, are partic ipa nts in a recurrent eschatological dram a, and br in g their

smal l in d iv id u a te d p ie ce to the great m o sa ic .

W h at we wish most to know, most desire, remains unknowable and

lies beyond ourgrasp. T h e sea changes of the so ul are swiff an d sure a nd

R E - I M A G I N I N G T H E S O U L ( 123 )



the powers of darkness many, bu t the gods still speak through the natu

ra l forms, through the myster ious dream-maker, and through the ar

c h e t y p a l i m a g i n a t i o n . Our hope and task s h o u l d be that we m i g h t

hu m bly learn to pet i t ion the gods again, as in the short sup plica tion of

a "S to n e f ro m D e l p h i , " by the N o b e l P r i z e - w i n n i n g p o e t Seamus

H e a n e y :

To be carried back to the shrine some dawn

when the sea spreads its far sun-crops to the south

and I make a morning offering again:

that I may escape the m i a s m a of sp i ll e d b l o o d ,

govern the tongue, fear hybris , fear the god

u n t i l he speaks in my u n t r a m m e l e d m o u t h . 7

( 124 ) A F T E R W O R D



(Bootes

Foreword

1. A n t h o n y S to r r, Solitude: A Return to the Self ( N e w Y o r k : B a l l a n t i n e B o o k s ,

1988).

2. J o a n C h o d o r o w , I n t r o d u c t i o n to C . G . J u n g , Jung on Active Imagination

( P r i n c e t o n , N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P re ss , 1997), p . 1.

3. I b i d . , p p . 2 - 2 0 .

4. S e e V e r e n a K a s t , Joy, Inspiration, and Hope ( C o l l e g e S t a t i o n : Texas A & M

U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1991); T h o m a s M o o r e , Care of the Soul ( N e w Y o r k :

H a r p e r C o l l i n s , 1992); James H i l l m a n , Th e Soul's Code: In Search of Charac

ter and Calling ( N e w Y o r k : W a r n e r B o o k s , 1997); M i h a l y C s i k s z e n t m i h a l y i ,

Flow: Th e Psychology of Optimal Experience ( N e w Y o r k : H a r p e r P e r e n n i a l ,

1990); D a v i d H . R o s e n a n d M i c h a e l C . L u e b b e r t , ed s ., Evolution of the

Psyche ( W e s t p o r t , C o n n . : P ra eg e r P u b l i s h e r s , 1999); a n d A n t h o n y Stevens

a n d J o h n P r i c e , Evolutionary Psychiatry: A New Beginning ( N e w Y o r k a n d

L o n d o n : R o u t l e d g e , 1996).

5. A l i c e W a l k e r , Th e Same River Twice: Honoring the Difficult ( N e w Y o r k :

S c r i b n e r , 1996), p . 13.

Introduction. Archetypal Imaginings: The Golden

String Which Leads to Heaven's Gate

1. T h o m a s N a s h e , " A L i t a n y i n th e T i m e o f P l a g u e, " i n Th e Norton Anthology

of Poetry, 3 r d e d . , e d . A l e x a n d e r A l l i s o n et a l . ( N e w Y o r k : N o r t o n , 1983),

p . 2 0 2 .

2 . F o r a r e la t iv e l y m o d e r n e x a m p l e o f J u n g b e i n g i d e n t i f i e d w i t h L a m a r c k i s m ,

see H e n r i F. E l l e n b e r g e r , Th e Discovery of the Unconscious ( N e w Y o r k : B a s i c

B o o k s , 1970), p p . 760ft0

.



3. W i l l i a m B l a k e , l e t t e r t o R e v . D r . T r u s l e r , i n Th e Poetry and Prose of William

Blake, e d . D a v i d V . E r d m a n ( G a r d e n C i t y , N . Y . : D o u b l e d a y , 1965), p . 677.

4. B l a k e , " L e t t e r t o T h o m a s B u t t s , " i n Th e Poetry and Prose of William Blake,

P- 693-

5. B l a k e , " T h e L a o c o o n , " i n Th e Poetry and Prose of William Blake, p . 271.

6. T h i s exchange t o o k p l ac e d u r i n g H u s t o n S m i t h ' s p r e s e n t a t io n at a c o n f e r

ence t i t l e d " R e f l e c t i o n s o f t h e S p i r i t , " h e l d at th e U n i v e r s i t y o f H o u s t o n ,

H o n o r s C o l l e g e , S e p t e m b e r, 1998.

7. W i l l i a m W o r d s w o r t h , " L i n e s : C o m p o s e d a F e w M i l e s a bo v e T i n t e r n A b

b e y , " i n Th e Norton Anthology of Poetry, p . 525.

8. B l a k e , " J e r u s a l e m , " i n Th e Poetry and Prose of William Blake, p . 2 2 9 .

Chapter 1. Religious Imaginings: Divine Morphologies

1. E d w a r d H i r s c h , " A t t h e G r a v e o f W a l l a c e S t e v e n s , " i n Earthly Measures: Po

em s ( N e w Y o r k : A l f r e d A . K n o p f , 1994), p . 80 .

2 . R o b e r t F r o s t , " D e s e r t P l a c e s , " i n Modern Poems: An Introduction to Poetry,

e d . R i c h a r d E U m a n n a n d R o b e r t O ' C l a i r ( N e w Y o r k : N o r t o n , 1976), p . 8 0 .

3. Z o r a N e a le H u r s t o n , Their Eyes Were Watching God (1937; r e p r i n t , N e w

Y o r k : H a r p e r a n d R o w , 1990), p . 183.

4. C . G . J u n g , Letters ( P r i n c e t o n , N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P re s s, 1973), 2:569.

5. S e e C . G . J u n g , Alchemical Studies, i n Th e Collected Works, e d . F . C . H u l l

( P r i n c e t o n , N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r es s , 1973), 13:37 (hereafter c i t e d b y

i n d i v i d u a l t i t l e w i t h CW v o lu m e a n d p a g e n u m b e r ) .

6. T . S . E l i o t , " T h e H o l l o w M a n , " i n T. S. Eliot: Th e Complete Poems and Plays

( N e w Y o r k : H a r c o u r t , B r a c e , a n d W o r l d , 1962), p . 58 .

7. C . G . J u n g , Memories, Dreams, Reflections, e d . A n i e l a Jaffe ( N e w Y o r k : P a n

t h e o n B o o k s , 1963), p . 3 4 0 .

8. D a n t e A l i g h i e r i , Th e Comedy of Dante Alighieri, t r a n s . D o r o t h y Sayers ( N e w

Y o r k : B a s i c B o o k s , 1962), p . 347.

9. S e e J u n g , Psychological Types, C W 6:480.

10 . See , e .g . , Jun g, Psychology and Religion: East and West, C W 11:330.

11. J u n g , Th e Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, CW 9:63.

12. J u n g , Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p . 3 4 0 .

13. J u n g , Aion, CW 9:180.

( 126 ) N O T E S T O P A G E S 7-17



14- E l i o t , " T h e H o l l o w M e n , " p. 212.

15. J u n g , Symbols of Transformation, CW 5:308.

16. J u n g , Th e Symbolic Life, C W 18:275.

17. J u n g , Archetypes and th e Collective Unconscious, CW 9:14-15.

18. F r o m t h e g n o s t i c s a y i n g s o f Jesus as c i t e d b y J o s ep h C a m p b e l l i n Th e Masks

of God: Occidental Mythology ( N e w Y o r k : P e n g u i n B o o k s , 1976), p . 364.

19. C a r l K e r e n y i , Zeus and Hera: Archetypal Image of Father, Husband, and Wife

( P r i n c e t o n , N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r es s , 1975), p . x i i i .

2 0 . G e r a r d M a n l e y H o p k i n s , " P i e d B e a u t y , " i n Th e Norton Anthology of Poetry,

p . 876.

21. K e r e n y i , Zeus and Hera, p . 5.

2 2 . J u n g , Letters, 2:525.

23. W a l l a c e S t e v e n s , " S u n d a y M o r n i n g , " i n Th e Norton Anthology of Poetry, p . 931.

2 4. J u n g , Archetypes and th e Collected Unconscious, C W 9 : 6 .

25. I b i d .

2 6. I b i d . , p . 7.

2 7. K e r e n y i , Zeus andHera, p . x i v .

2 8. I a m i n d e b t e d f o r s o m e o f t h i s i n f o r m a t i o n to J u n g i a n t h e ra p i s t R o n n i e

L a n d a u of P h i l a d e l p h i a .

2 9. James G e o r g e F r a z e r , The Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion

( N e w Y o r k : M a c m i l l a n , 1951), p . 3.

30 . J u n g , Psychological Types, C W 6:480.

Chapter 2. Literary Imaginings: Envisioned Logos

1. K e r e n y i , Zeus and Hera, p . x i v .

2. R a i n e r M a r i a R i l k e , Ahead of All Parting: Th e Selected Poetry and Prose of

Rainer Maria Rilke, t r a n s . S t e p h e n M i t c h e l l ( N e w Y o r k : M o d e r n L i b r a r y ,

1995). P- 550.

3. S o r e n K i e r k e g a a r d , Either/Or, t ra n s . W a l t e r L o w r i e ( P r i n c e t o n , N . J . :

P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r es s , 1944), 1:15.

4. U n l e s s o t h e r w i s e n o t e d , t h i s a n d s u b s e q u e n t q u o t a t i o n s a r e f r o m R i l k e ' s

" T h i r d E l e g y " a n d ar e t r a n s l a t e d b y th e a u t h o r .

5. Q u o t e d i n B r e n d a M a d d o x , Nora: The Real Life of Molly Bloom ( B o s t o n ,

M a s s . : H o u g h t o n M i f f l i n , 1988), p . 301.

N O T E S T O P A G E S I7-38 ( 127 )



6. J o n a t h a n E d w a r d s , Selected Writings of Jonathan Edwards, e d . H a r o l d

S i m o n s o n ( N e w Y o r k : W a v e l a n d P re ss , 1992), p . 103.

7. J u n g , Symbols of Transformation, CW5:355~56.

8. W . B . Y ea ts , " N i n e t e e n H u n d r e d a n d N i n e t e e n , " i n Selected Poems and Two

Plays of William Butler Yeats, e d . M . L . R o s e n t ha l ( N e w Y o r k : M a c m i l l a n ,1962), p . 109.

9. D y l a n T h o m a s , " F e r n H i l l , " i n Th e Norton Anthology of Poetry, p . 1181.

10 . U n l e s s o t h e r w i s e n o t e d , t h i s a n d s u b s e q u e n t q u o t a t i o n s a r e f r o m R i l k e ' s

" N i n t h E l e g y " a n d ar e t r a n s l a t e d b y t h e a u t h o r .

11. Jung's Answer to fob i s f o u n d i n Psychology and Religion, v o l . 11 o f Th e Col

lected Works.

12. C i t e d by M i t c h e l l i n R i l k e , Ahead of All Parting, p . 568.

13. A r c h i b a l d M a c L e i s h , " N o t M a r b l e N o r G i l d e d M o n u m e n t s , " i n Poems,

1924-1933 ( B o s t o n a n d N e w Y o r k : H o u g h t o n M i f f l i n , 1933), p . 4 8.

14. J u n g , Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p . 326.

15. C i t e d b y M i t c h e l l i n R i l k e , Ahead of All Parting, p p . 569-70.

16 . I take p a r t o f t h e t i t l e o f t h i s s e c t i o n f r o m a n essay, " O n th e N a m i n g o f t h e

G o d s i n H o l d e r l i n a n d R i l k e , " w r i t t e n b y m y g r a d u a te a d v i s o r a n d m e n t o r

S t a n le y R o m a i n e H o p p e r , d e an o f th e G r a d u a t e S c h o o l o f D r e w U n i v e r s i t y .

I o f f e r t h i s c h a p t e r i n h o n o r o f h i s great t e a c h i n g .

17. F r i e d r i c h H o l d e r l i n , " P a t m o s , " m y t r a ns l a ti o n .

18. S t . A u g u s t i n e , Confessions ( W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : C a t h o l i c U n i v e r s i t y P re s s,

1967), p . 34-

19. M a r t i n H e i d e g g e r , " H o l d e r l i n a n d t h e Essence o f P o e t r y , " i n Existence and

Being ( L o n d o n : V i s i o n P r e s s , 1949), p . 312.

2 0 . J u n g , Psychological Types, CW 6:190.

21. R i l k e , "I F i n d Y o u i n A l l T h i n g s , " a u t h o r ' s t r a n s l a t i o n .

2 2 . R i l k e , " L a m e n t , " i n A n g e l F l o r e s , t r a n s . , An Anthology of German Poetry

from Holderlin to Rilke in English Translation ( G a r d e n C i t y , N . Y . : A n c h o r

B o o k s , i 9 6 0 ) , p . 386.

23. I b i d .

2 4. R i l k e , " A u t u m n , " i n F l o r e s , t r a n s . , An Anthology of German Poetry, p . 3 9 0 .2 5. R i l k e , " N o w i s t h e t i m e w h e n t he G o d s em e r g e ," a u t h o r ' s t r a n s l a t i o n .

26. I b i d .

27. J u n g , Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, CW 9:62 ; Mysterium

Coniunctionis, C W i 4 : 5 4 6 .

( l 2 8 ) N O T E S T O P A G E S 39-57



2 8. R i l k e , " N o w is the t i m e w h e n the G o d s emerge."

2 9. I b i d .

30. Y e a t s , " T w o Songs f r o m a Pl a y , " in The Norton Anthology of Poetry, p. 114.

Chapter3. Incarnational Imaginings:

The Painter's Eye on Eternity

1. James H i l l m a n , The Dream and the Underworld ( N e w Y o r k : H a r p e r and

R o w , 1979), p. 27.

2. James H i l l m a n , Re-Visioning Psychology ( N e w Y o r k : H a r p e r and R o w , 1975),

p . 169.

3. I b i d . , p. 154.

4. J u n g , The Spirit in Man, Art, and Literature, C W i 5 : i o i .

5. R i l k e , " L o v e S o n g , " in F l o r e s , t r a n s . , An Anthology of German Poetry, p. 391.

6. N a n c y W i t t , On Alternate Days ( A s h l a n d , V a . : C r o s s M i l l G a l l e r y , 1995), p. 6.

7. N a n c y W i t t , p e r s o n al c o m m u n i c a t i o n w i t h the a u t h o r .

8. I b i d .

9. J u n g , "The P s y c h o l o g i c a l F o u n d a t i o n for the B e l i e f in S p i r i t s , " in The Struc

ture and Dynamics of the Psyche, C W 8:301.

10. I b i d . , p. 304.

11. I b i d . , p. 309.

12. I b i d . , p. 315.

13. W i t t , p e r s o na l c o m m u n i c a t i o n .

14. I b i d .

15. W a l l a c e Stevens, " A H i g h - t o n e d O l d C h r i s t i an W o m a n , " in Modern Poems,

e d . E l l m a n n and O ' C l a i r , p. 90.

16. W i t t , On Alternate Days, p. 29.

17. J u n g , The Symbolic Life, C W i 8 : 4 5 i .

18. G e r a r d M a n l e y H o p k i n s , "The W i n d h o v e r , " in A Hopkins Reader ( N e w

Y o r k : A n c h o r - D o u b l e d a y , 1966), p. 50.

19. W i t t , On Alternate Days, p. 81.

2 0 . Stephen D u n n , "The G u a r d i a n A n g e l , " in New and Selected Poems: 1974-

1994 ( N e w Y o r k : N o r t o n , 1994), p. 204.

N O T E S T O P A G E S 57-98 ( 129 )



Chapter 4- Therapeutic Imaginings:

Psychopathology and Soul

1. D u n n , " I n t r o d u c t i o n to th e 2 0 t h C e n t u r y , " i n New and Selected Poems:

1974-1994, P- 83.

2. J u n g , The Structure and Dynamics of th e Psyche, C W 8:125.

3. I b i d . , p . 23.

4. J u n g , Freud and Psychoanalysis, C W 4 : 2 7 8 .

5. J u n g , The Practice of Psychotherapy, C W 16:313.

6. N a t h a n S c h w a r t z - S a l a n t , The Borderline Personality: Vision and Healing

( W i l m e t t e , 111.: C h i r o n P u b l i c a t i o n s , 1989), p . 29.

7. S u c h i m p o v e r i s h m e n t of t h e i m a g i n a t i o n is t h e s o u r c e of r a c i s m a n d b i g

o t r y , f o r t h e b i g o t c a n n o t i m a g i n e a n y v a r i a n t f r o m the s t e r e o t y p e he or

s h e c a r r i e s . T o i m a g i n e t h e p a i n of t h e o t h e r ( s y m - p a t h y ) is to e x p e r i e n c e

once's o w n h u m a n i t y i n the o t h e r .

8. H i r s c h , " A t t h e G r a v e o f W a l l a c e S t e v e n s ," i n Earthly Measures, p . 8 0 .

Afterword. Re-Imagining th e Soul

1. I m m a n u a l K a n t , Critique of Practical Reason ( N e w Y o r k : M a c m i l l a n , 1992),

p . 84; J u n g , Letters, 1:377.

2. R i c h a r d T a r n a s , The Passion of th e Western Mind: Understanding th e Ideas

That Have Shaped Our World View ( N e w Y o r k : B a l l a n t i n e B o o k s , 1991),

P-54-

3. C i t e d i n i b i d . , p . 28.

4. A j a h n C h a h , " O u r R e al H o m e , " i n Entering th e Stream: An Introduction to

th e Buddha and His Teachings, e d . S a m u e l B e r c h o l z a n d Sherab C h o d z i n

K o h n ( B o s t o n : S h a m b h a l a P u b l i c a t i o n s , 1993), p p . 95-96.

5. J u n g , The Development of Personality, CW 17:175-76.

6. S t e p h e n D u n n , " T h e R e s u r r e c t i o n , " i n New and Selected Poems: 1974-1994,

p . 31.

7. Seamus H e a n e y , "Stone f r o m D e l p h i , " i n Opened Ground: Selected Poems,

1966-1996 ( N e w Y o r k : F a r r a r, S t r a u s a n d G i r o u x , 1998), p . 207.

(130) N O T E S T O P A G E S 99-124



B l a k e , W i l l i a m . Th e Poetry and Prose of William Blake. E d i t e d b y D a v i d V .

E r d m a n . G a r d e n C i t y , N . Y . : D o u b l e d a y , 1965.

C h a h , A j a h n . " O u r R ea l H o m e . " I n Entering th e Stream: An Introduction to the

Buddha and His Teachings. E d i t e d b y S a m u e l B e r c h o l z a n d Sherab C h o d z i n

K o h n . B o s t o n : S h a m b h a l a P u b l i c a t i o n s , 1993.

C h o d o r o w , Joan. I n t r o d u c t i o n t o C . G . J u n g , Jung on Active Imagination..

P r i n c e t o n , N . J . : P r i n c e t o j i U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1997.

C s i k s z e n t m i h a l y i , M i h a l y . Flow: Th e Psychology of Optimal Experience. N e w

Y o r k : H a r p e r P e r e n n i a l , 1990.

Diagnostic Criteria from DSM-IV. W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : A m e r i c a n P s y c hi a tr ic

A s s o c i a t i o n , 1994.

D u n n , S t e p h e n . New and Selected Poems: 1974-1994. N e w Y o r k: N o r t o n , 1994.

E l i o t , T. S . T. S. Eliot: Th e Complete Poems and Plays. N e w Y o r k : H a r c o u r t , Brace,

a n d W o r l d , 1962.

F l o r e s , A n g e l , t r a n s . An Anthology of German Poetry from Holderlin to Rilke.

G a r d e n C i t y , N . Y . : A n c h o r B o o k s , i 9 6 0 .

F r a z e r , James G e o r g e . Th e Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion. N e w

Y o r k : M a c m i l l a n , 1951.

H e i d e g g e r , M a r t i n . Existence and Being. L o n d o n : V i s i o n P r e s s , 1949.

H i l l m a n , James. Th e Dream and the Underworld. N e w Y o r k : H a r p e r a n d R o w ,

1979-

. Re-Visioning Psychology. N e w Y o r k : H a r p e r a n d R o w , 1975.

. The Soul's Code: In Search of Character and Calling. N e w Y o r k : W a r n e r

B o o k s , 1997.

H i r s c h , E d w a r d . Earthly Measures: Poems. N e w Y o r k : A l f r e d A . K n o p f , 1994.

J u n g , C a r l G u s t a v . Th e Collected Works. 20 v o l s . E d i t e d b y F . C . H u l l . P r i n c e t o n ,

N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1973.

. Letters. 2 v o l s . P r i n c e t o n , N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1973.



. Memories, Dreams, Reflections. E d i t e d b y A n i e l a Jaffe. N e w Y o r k :

P a n t h e o n B o o k s , 1963.

K a n t , I m m a n u e l . Critique of Practical Reason. N e w Y o r k : M a c m i l l a n , 1992.

K a s t , V e r e n a . Joy, Inspiration, and Hope. C o l l e g e S t a t i o n : Texas A & M U n i v e rs i t y

P r e s s , 1991.

K e r e n y i , C a r l . Zeus and Hera: Archetypal Image of Father, Husband, and Wife.

P r i n c e t o n , N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1975.

K i e r k e g a a r d , S o r e n . Either/Or, Volume 1. T r a n s l a t e d b y W a l t er L o w r i e . P r i n c e t o n ,

N . J . : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1944.

M o o r e , T h o m a s . Care of the Soul. N e w Y o r k : H a r p e r C o l l i n s , 1992.

R i l k e , R a i n e r M a r i a . Ahead of All Parting: The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer

Maria Rilke. T r a n s l a t e d b y S t e p h e n M i t c h e l l . N e w Y o r k : M o d e r n L i b r a r y , 1995.

R o s e n , D a v i d H . , a n d M i c h a e l C . L u e b b e r t , ed s . Evolution of the Psyche.

W e s t p o r t , C o n n . : Praeger P u b l i s h e r s , 1999.

S c h w a r t z - S a l a n t , N a t h a n . The Borderline Personality: Vision and Healing.

W i l m e t t e , 111.: C h i r o n P u b l ic a ti o n s , 1989.

Stevens, A n t h o n y , a n d J o h n P r i c e . Evolutionary Psychiatry: A New Beginning.

N e w Y o r k a n d L o n d o n : R o u tl e dg e , 1996.

S t o r r , A n t h o n y . Solitude: A Return to the Self. N e w Y o r k : B a l l a n t in e B o o k s , 1988.

T a r n a s , R i c h a r d . Th e Passion of the Western Mind: Understanding the Ideas That

Have Shaped Our World View. N e w Y o r k : B a l l a n ti n e B o o k s , 1991.

W i t t , N a n c y . On Alternate Days. A s h l a n d , V a . : C r o s s M i l l G a l l e r y , 1995.

( 132 ) B I B L I O G R A P H Y



Q/n&ex

A l i g h i e r e , D a n t e , 15,60, 63, 96,126H 8

a l l o p a t h y , 8, 9

Answer to Job (Jung), 47

a r c h e t y p e , 5, 6 ,17,18,25,42,55, 62,87,

88,100,110,122

A r m s t r o n g , L o u i s , 59

a r t : c r i t i c i s m of , 6 0 , 61, 6 4 ; recent

h i s t o r y o f , 6 0 , 61, 63, 88; s u p e r i o r

i t y to p s y c h o l o g y , 61

B a y l o r C o l l e g e of M e d i c i n e , 9

B a r t h , K a r l , 19

Biographia Literaria ( C o l e r i d g e ) , 6

B l a k e , W i l l i a m , 4,7,12,20,26, 6 4 , 6 8 ,

8 9, 9 8 , 1 2 6 « « 3 , 4,5, 8

C . G . J u n g E d u c a t i o n a l C e n t e r of

H o u s t o n , T e x a s , I n c . , 8

C a m p b e l l , J o s e p h , 127

C h a n , A j a h n , 121,130n 4

C h o d o r o w , J o a n , x i , 125 n 2

C o l e r i d g e , S a m u e l T a y l o r , 6, 49

c o m p l e x , 41, 42,74,75,116

c o n s c i o u s n e s s , c o n t r i b u t i o n of, 47,

4 8, 52,54,117,118

Critique of Pure Reason ( K a n t ) , 7

d a i m o n , 24,25,36, 51,68

Diagnostic and Statistical Manual IV

( D S M - I V ) , 101,103,114,120

D i s r a e l i , B e n j a m i n , 120

Duino Elegies ( R i l k e ) , x i i ; Ninth Elegy,

46-53; Third Elegy, 37-46

D u n n , S t e p h e n , 98,99,100,118,122,

129,130

E d w a r d s , J o n a t h a n , 39,128

E l i o t , T h o m a s Stearns, 14,17,24,46,

73,103,126,127

E l l e n b e r g e r , H e n r i , 12577 2

E l u a r d , P a u l , 4, 83,121

e x i s t e n t i a l i s m , 43

e x p r e s s i v e a r t s , 9,11

F l a u b e r t , G u s t a v e , 3

F r a z e r , James G e o r g e , 31,1277? 29

F r e u d , S i g m u n d , 36,41,61,71,75,109,

117

F r o s t , R o b e r t , 13,14,126n 2

Golden Bough, The ( F r a z e r ) , 31

G r i m m , A u g u s t a n d W i l h e l m , 30

H e a n y , S e a m u s , 124,130 n 7

H e i d e g g e r , M a r t i n , 54,128 n 19

H e m i n g w a y , E r n e s t , 60

H e r m e s T r i s m e g i s t h u s ( T h o t h ) , 15,

55

H i l l m a n , James, 61, 62,101,125,129

H i r s c h , E d w a r d , 13,14,48,118,126 n 1,

13071 8

H o l d e r l i n , F r i e d r i c h , 54, 84,128 n 17h o m e o p a t h y , 8

H o p k i n s , G e r a r d M a n l e y , 20, 96,12771

20,129n 18

H o p p e r , S t a n l e y R o m a i n e , 128 n 16



H o w e l l , F r a n k , 65

H u r s t o n , Z o r a N e a le , 14,126M3

i m a g i n a t i o n , 6,7,49,58, 61,62, 64,67,

110,112,123

imago Dei, 48

Jaspers, K a r l , 17

Jesus of N a z a r e t h , 19,55, 86, 96,121

Joyce, James, 38, 61

J u n g , C a r l G u s t a v , 125-30: a c t i v e

i m a g i n a t i o n o f , x i ; a l c h e m y ,

interest i n , 86; a n d a p p r o a c h to

n u m i n o u s , 120,123; c o n s c i o u s

ness, task o f, 47, 50,51,52, 54 ;

creat iv e aspects of i l l n e s s , x i ;

c r i t i c i s m o f ar t , 61,64; d e f i n i t i o n s

o f G o d , 21,38,57; o n d r e a m s , 45;

fate, 57; i n d i v i d u a t i o n , idea o f , 4 4 ,

94,117,121; m o t t o at h o m e , 38;

m y t h as r e v e l a t i o n o f d i v i n e l i f e ,

15,17, 2 2 ; n e u r o s i s , d e f i n i t i o n of ,

16, 22,36, 9 9 ; p o e t s , r o l e o f , 54 ;

p s y c h e as h o l o g r a m , 32 ; p s y c h o l

o g y , l a s t i n v e n t e d , 14, 2 4; r e l i g i o u s

p r o j e c t i o n , 2 4; Self, th e , 45; s p i r i

t u a l p o v e r t y , 18; s y m b o l i c l i f e , t h e ,

18,34; t r a n s c e n d e n t f u n c t i o n , 15,

94 ; v o c a t i o n , 121

K a f k a , F r a n z , 63,64

K a n t , I m m a n u a l , 7,11,61,71,120,130H1

K e r e n y i , C a r l , 2 0 , 21, 22,25,35,127M/1

19,21, 27

K i e r k e g a a r d , S o r e n , 37 , i 27n 3

L a m a r c k i s m , 5,1257? 2

L a n d a u , R o n n i e , nyn28

L e v i - S t r a u s s , C l a u d e , 28

L e v y - B r u h l , L u c i e n , 28

L o c k e , J o h n , 6

M a c L e i s h , A r c h i b a l d , 4 9 , 50,53, nSn13

M a d d o x , B r e n d a , 1270 5

m a g i c , 33; c o n t a g i o u s , 32 ; s y m p a

t h e t i c , 31,32

M a r i a P r o p h e t i s s a , 69

Memories, Dreams, Reflections (Jung),

14

m e t a p h o r , 4 , 5 , 6 , 7 , 8,13,14,20,21,25,

4 8 , 54,60, 61, 6 2 , 9 0 , 99,100

M o o r e , H e n r y , 65

m y t h , 14,15,17, 2 4, 41, 51, 53, 68, 75, 86,

105,116

m y t h o l o g e m , 24,30,31,41,42, 86

N a s h e, T h o m a s , 3,125̂ 11

N e w G r a n g e ( I r e l a n d ) , 29

N e w t o n , Isaac, 7

N i e t z s c h e , F r i e d r i c h , 58

P a s c a l , B l a i s e , 2 7, 84,119

P a t er , W a l t e r , 57

p e r s o n a l i t y , d i s o r d e r s o f , 107,108,109,

110; b o r d e r l i n e , 107-12; c o - d e p e n

d e n c e , 114-16; h e a l i n g o f , 116-18;

n a r c i s s i s t i c , 113-14; s o c i o p a t h i c ,

112-13

P i c a s s o , P a b l o , 5, 61, 83

P l a t o , 62, 84

p r o j e c t i v e i d e n t i f i c a t i o n , 108

P r o t a g o r a s , 121

Psychological Foundation for th e Belief

in Spirits, (Jung), 75

p s y c h o l o g y : b a n k r u p t c y o f, 16,17, 53,

58 , 61,100,102,119,120; d e p t h

a p p r o a c h , 54,88,100,103,104;

d i v i d i n g o f t h e p e r s o n , 16,53;

subjective c o n f e s s i o n o f , 86; task

o f, 71,100,102,103,120; y o u n g e s t

o f sciences, 14, 24

p s y c h o p a t h o l o g y , 100,105,106,117,

120

( 134 ) I N D E X



r e l i g i o n : e t y m o l o g y of, 22; greatest

i d e a s of, 30; m o d e r n context of,

54 ; p s y c h o l o g i c a l d i m e n s i o n of,

2 4; subjective c o n f e s s i o n of, 86

R i l k e , R a i n e r M a r i a , x i i , 6,67,79,127;

b i o g r a p h y of, 35; themes of, 35

S t . A u g u s t i n e , 54,128

S c h l i e m a n n , H e i n r i c h , 30

S c h w a r t z - S a l a n t , N a t h a n , 130 n 6

Shakespeare, W i l l i a m , 39, 49, 98

S m i t h , H u s t o n , 7,126 n 6

s p e e c h , c o n s t i t u e n t p o w e r of, 6,49,

51.54

s p i r i t u a l m a l a i s e , 75,100,101,120

S t a n f o r d U n i v e r s i t y , 9

Stevens, W a l l a c e , 22, 88, 89,12771 23,

1297115

S t o r r, A n t h o n y , x i , 125711

s y m b o l , 4,7,12,13,16, 25, 26,34,48,

54 . 60,73, 90,119

Symbols of Transformation (Jung),

32

T a o i s m , x i

Taos P u e b l o , 15

T a r n a s , R i c h a r d , 120,121,13071 2

T h a l e s , 20

T h e o s o p h i c a l S o c i e t y , 31

T h o m a s , D y l a n , 28, 47,128119

T i l l i c h , P a u l , 30

V a i h i n g e r , H a n s , 10

W a g n e r , R i c h a r d , 37,52

W a l k er , A l i c e , x i i i , 125 n 5

W h i t eh e a d , A l f r e d N o r t h , 21

W h i t m a n , W a l t , 41

W i t t , N a n c y : " B a i l ey W o n , " 91-94;

b i o g r a p h y of, 62,63, 64,65,71,78,

91,97; " C a p r o n , " 71-76; " C h a l i c e , "

8 0 ; " C i c a t r i c e , " 9 4 - 9 6 ; " G l a s s

D a r k l y , " 8 8 - 9 0 ; " I n s i d e , " 68-71;

m e t a r e a l i s m of, 63,64; " O p e n i n g , "

65-68; " P a i n t i n g , " 9 0 ; " R h y t o n , "

8 6 - 8 8 ; " R i n g of F i r e , " 9 6 - 9 8 ;

" S e c o n d O p e n i n g , " 84-86; "Sue's

F a n , " 76-80; " W i n d o w s , " 80-83

W o r d s w o r t h , W i l l i a m , 7, 8,126M 7

Y e a t s , W i l l i a m B u tl er , 43, 58,12871 8,

129713

I N D E X (135)





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h a t w e w i s h to k n o w , a n d m o s t d e s ir e , r e m a i n s u n k n o w a b l e

a n d l i e s b e y o n d o u r grasp." W i t h these w o r d s , James H o l l i s

leads readers to cons ider the nature of our human need for meaning in l i fe

a n d f o r c o n n e c t i o n t o a w o r l d less l i m i t i n g t h a n o u r o w n .

In The Archetypal Imagination, H o l l i s offers a lyr i ca l J ungian appreciat ion

of t h e a r c h e t y p a l i m a g i n a t i o n . H e argues t h a t w i t h o u t t h e h u m a n m i n d ' s

a b i l i t y to form energy- f i l l ed images t h a t l i n k u s t o w o r l d s b e y o n d o u r

r a t i o n a l a n d e m o t i o n a l c a p a c i t i e s , w e w o u l d have n e i t h e r c u l t u r e n o r

s p ir it u a li t y. D r a w i n g u p o n t he w o r k of poets and phi losophers , H o l l i s shows

t he i m p o r t a n c e of dep th experience , m ean ing , an d con nect ion to an "ot her"

w o r l d . Just a s h u m a n s have i n s t i n c t s f o r b i o l o g i c a l s u r v i v a l a n d s o c i a l

i n t e r a c t i o n , we have i n s t i n c t s f o r s p i r i t u a l c o n n e c t i o n a s w e l l . Just as our

p h y s i c a l a n d s o c i a l needs seek satis faction, so the spir i tual inst incts of the

h u m a n a n i m a l a r e expressed i n images we form to evoke a n e m o t i o n a l o r

s p i r i t u a l response, as in our dreams, myths , and re l ig ious trad i t ions .

T h e a u t h o r d r a w s u p o n t h e w o r k o f t h e p o e t R a i n e r M a r i a R i l k e ,

p a r t i c u l a r l y h i s Duino Elegies, t o e l u c i d a t e t h e a r c h e t y p a l i m a g i n a t i o n i n

l i t e r a r y f o r m s . T o u n d e r s c o r e t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f i n c a r n a t i n g d e p t h

experience, he also examines a series o f p a i n t i n g s b y N a n c y W i t t .

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The Archetypal Imagination - James Hollis

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