Tag Archives: archetype

Inception & the Underworld

Posted on by under Grad School, Pop Culture

Here’s a piece I realized I never posted! I wrote this paper for the Myths of the Underworld course I took last year. It was the last of the incompletes I finished in the fall. As I post this, I am currently working on my very last grad paper! More content to appear on my website soon. Thanks for sticking around!

030413_2251_Inceptionth1.png

The underworld is a timeless element present in mythology and human thought. As seen in ancient mythologies beginning with the Descent of Inanna in 2000 B.C.E., “descent stories [reveal] the human quest for the kind of knowledge that adds to spiritual power”  (Davis et. al 26). After undergoing a quest in the underworld, the hero returns to the daily world empowered. These underworld stories have recurred throughout the ages, continuing into modern day. James Hillman identifies that “myths are not simply part of the past . . . Myth lives vividly in our symptoms and fantasies and in our conceptual systems” (Dream 23). Therefore, it is no surprise that films, one of our most popular devices for modern storytelling and mythmaking, have presented the important myth of the underworld time and time again. In 2010, director Christopher Nolan released the film Inception, which adeptly depicts the underworld through dreams. As Nolan indicates, “[W]hen you’re talking about dreaming . . . you are talking about this universal human experience” (10). The dreamscape provides an excellent landscape for the underworld (which is also a universal experience), for “[i]t’s no secret that dreams belong to the underworld” (Hillman, Dream 2). The film was a box office success because of Nolan’s ability to bring viewers into the timeless and relatable realm of dreams, which connects us all to the deeper, mythological experience with the underworld.

Inception, which is, on the surface, a multi-layered story about a heist, touches on the elements of the underworld that we are familiar with from ancient mythology. The main character Cobb (played by Leonardo DiCaprio) has recently lost his wife and is coping with this tragedy, which is compounded by the fact that the authorities think he killed her. His overarching goal in the film is to return home to be with his children. In this film, a device called the Portable Automated Somnacin IntraVenous Device allows individuals to share dreams. Cobb works with individuals that are hired to go into someone’s dream to steal a thought. This is called extraction. The high-stakes job the film centers around calls for something different, something that only Cobb has performed before – inception. Instead of extracting a thought from an individual, a thought is planted in the individual’s mind. Working with dreams, which automatically call to mind the unconscious and represent a descent, director Christopher Nolan is able to develop a new story of the underworld, which involves a look at the depths of mind and the process of grief and loss, another component tied to the underworld: “Loss does characterize underworld experiences, from mourning to the dream” (Hillman, Dream 54).

The film opens in a dream that Cobb and his entered with a team for an extraction. During Cobb’s opening dialogue about dreams, he states, “Once an idea’s taken hold in the brain, it’s almost impossible to eradicate” (Inception). As he explains this, a character off-camera picks up a wine glass. The glass crosses the screen, briefly disrupting the image of Cobb. Only the glass itself, not the wine within it, can be seen. This is the first of many uses of the image of glass in the film. In Re-Visioning Psychology, James Hillman emphasizes the importance of this image:

Glass in dreams . . . presents the paradox of solid transparency; its very purpose is to permit seeing through. Glass is the metaphor par excellence for psychic reality: it is itself not visible, appearing only to be its contents, and the contents of the psyche, by being placed within or behind glass, have been moved from palpable reality to metaphorical reality, out of life and into image. 142.

Nolan uses this visual metaphor often in the dream world as a reminder that the reality viewers are seeing is in the purely psychic realm, not one of day-to-day living. Later in this same dream sequence, when the dream begins to disintegrate, shattering glass explodes across the screen.

In order to enter this shared-dream realm to perform extraction or inception, an architect is needed to design the dream world. Cobb’s team needs a new architect for the inception job, and he hires an architect student named Ariadne (played by Ellen Page). Her name immediately calls to mind the myth of Theseus and the Minotaur. As in the myth, Ariadne’s role will be to guide the hero, Cobb, out of a labyrinth – in this case, the labyrinth is in his own mind. When everyone enters the shared dream state, other elements may unconsciously arise. Because Cobb is undergoing a psychological struggle, the image of his wife appears in his dreams. Unlike his real life wife, Mal, this shadow of her is often destructive. Ariadne is the only one on Cobb’s team that knows how deeply his suffering is affecting him. Therefore, like Athena for Odysseus on his way home, Ariadne also becomes Cobb’s “guide and protector” (Smith, Sacred 26).

Figure 1 Cobb's drawing in Inception

Figure 1 Cobb’s drawing in Inception

When Cobb hires Ariadne, he has to show her how to navigate the dream realm.  The first time they dream-share, she is unaware they are dreaming. They have a discussion on dreams, and as Cobb identifies that the mind “creates and perceives a world simultaneously” (Inception), he draws a simple sketch (figure 1) that calls to mind the path the hero takes on his journey (figure 2), as identified by Joseph Campbell (30). Cobb’s simple circular arrows around a straight line indicate a descent and a return, as does Campbell’s formula. This visual accentuates that although the film encapsulates many characters and a great heist adventure, the heart of the story is about Cobb’s heroic descent and return. Cobb then leads Ariadne to recognize that they are having this conversation in a dream. She begins to lose her calm and the dream erupts around them, again including the image of shattering glass to represent the break of the psychic realm back to the daily realm. After they awaken, Ariadne agrees to explore more of the shared-dream with Cobb.

Figure 2 Campbell's monomyth (30)

Figure 2 Campbell’s monomyth (30)

While walking through the landscape that Ariadne is designing in the dream, she asks Cobb who all the other people are that are also walking around. He explains that they are “projections of [his] unconscious” (Inception). Although Ariadne is the dreamer, Cobb is the subject, so his “subconscious populates [the] world.” As Ariadne explores new architectural possibilities in the dream realm, she begins to play with gravity and the natural order of the world. She soon notices that Cobb’s projections are staring at her. Cobb explains that his “subconscious feels that someone else is creating the world” (Inception), and it arouses suspicion. He also explains to Ariadne that because it is his “subconscious [he cannot] control it” (Inception).

This pivotal scene with Cobb and Ariadne, which sets up the parameters of dream-sharing for the viewers, introduces key elements from depth-psychology. The dream persons that Cobb identifies as projections were discussed by Hillman in Dream and the Underworld: “The persons I engage with in dreams are neither representations . . . of their living selves nor parts of myself. They are shadow images that fill archetypal roles” (61). These shadows are representative of the unconscious, as Cobb has identified. However, as the scene continues, a specific shadow appears in the form of Cobb’s wife. Appearing as more than a mere memory, she fulfills the archetypal role of the anima. According to Hillman, the archetype “comes in the shape of this or that personal memory” (61), so it is fitting that Cobb’s anima appears as his wife. Furthermore, Jung identified the “anima as the personification of the unconscious” (Hillman, Re-Visioning 43). When Mal appears before Cobb in his dreams, she is all at once memory, anima, and unconscious, powerful elements to contend with in the underworld of the dream realm.

When Cobb first sees Mal in this dream, Ariadne is continuing to play with the architecture around them. She turns two very large mirrors, which reflect her and Cobb (a symbol of their shared journey), together across a bridge. With the touch of her hand, she shatters both mirrors across the bridge, again demonstrating that ability to see through. This time, the glass vanishes and the dream continues. What is present in the dream is more than what meets the eye. There is a reason Cobb continues to be haunted by his memories, his anima, and his wife. Ariadne later identifies, “[Y]ou’re going to have to forgive yourself, and you’re going to have to confront her [Mal]. But you don’t have to do it alone” (Inception). Her mythological role as his protector and guide is solidified when she makes this statement.

After this central dream, Cobb’s team begins to work on their heist job (to perform inception on a specific individual), and Ariadne prepares the architecture for the dream. Shortly before it is time for the team to leave for their heist, Ariadne finds Cobb, alone, connected to the Portable Automated Somnacin IntraVenous Device. Because of using this device so frequently, it is now the only way that Cobb can dream. Ariadne takes it upon herself to enter Cobb’s dream to see what he is doing in these dreams. She ultimately finds an elevator in Cobb’s dream and, much to his displeasure, descends to the basement level. This image of descent reinforces the notion of the underworld and dream. In the basement, metaphorically the deepest part of the unconscious, Ariadne sees Cobb’s memory of the night that his wife Mal killed herself. Mal was convinced that they were in a dream and that when she died, she would wake up.

After awakening from the shared-dream with Cobb, Ariadne insists on going with the team for the heist job since she is the only one who knows what he is dealing with in his subconscious. (Though she has designed the architecture for the dream world where the inception is to take place, it was not part of the plan for her to go with the team on the job). When the team, including Ariadne and Cobb, enters the shared-dream with the individual they are to perform inception on, a heavier sedation than usual is utilized. This will permit them more time in the dream realm and the ability to descend deeper by creating dreams within dreams (all necessary to successfully perform inception). The situation becomes problematic when one of the dreamers on the team is mortally wounded in the dream. Though dying typically wakes one up from the shared-dream, under this form of sedation the dreamer cannot awaken. Therefore, the mind will be lost in limbo, which is defined as “unconstructed dream space [filled with] raw, infinite subconscious” (Inception). Cobb explains to Ariadne that he and Mal were once trapped in limbo when they were exploring dreams within dreams. Though it was only hours in the real world, Cobb and Mal spent years in limbo together, losing track of what was real. As Cobb explains what this did to Mal, Ariadne understands that she “was just lost in the labyrinth” (italics mine, Nolan). This line, present in the shooting script but not in the final film, again emphasizes Ariadne’s mythological role.

The team descends deeper in the dream realm, continuing their job. Cobb’s projection of Mal appears in one of the deeper levels, shooting and killing another dreamer before Cobb can summon up the courage to stop her. With two individuals of the dream now trapped in limbo, Cobb decides to descend into limbo to bring them back. Because Cobb has been in limbo before, whatever he left behind remains there. Ariadne accompanies him to help him face Mal. When they descend into the realm of limbo, they are washed ashore by the ocean waves. As Hillman indicates, the “general geography” of the underworld gleaned from myth indicates that to descend to the underworld, waters must be crossed (Dream 17). Though the whole film embraces underworld and dream imagery, at this point we have descended into deepest realm of the unconscious, the darkest part of the underworld. Water also indicatesthat “the dreamer is in danger of being over-whelmed by the unconscious in an emotional psychosis, flooded with fantasies – no ground, no standpoint” (Hillman, Dream 153). This is the moment Cobb has truly entered the labyrinth that Ariadne must guide him through.

Cobb finds his projection of Mal – this image of both his anima and his guilt – in limbo. With Ariadne by his side, Cobb explains to Mal (and the audience) that he needed to convince her that her world was not real in order for them to escape when they were in limbo. However, as Hillman ascertains, “[T]he underworld perspective radically alters our experience of life” (Dream 46). Cobb never imagined that the idea would continue to grow, convincing Mal that the waking world they returned to was not real either. After telling his projection of Mal why he is responsible for her suicide, she asks him to stay with her this time. Like Nausicaa offering marriage to Odysseus, this “represents the familiar temptation of the hero to remain in the magic circle of the archetypal realm, rather than to make his way back into the normal suffering of human life” (Smith, Sacred 26). When Cobb refuses Mal’s plea, she stabs him. Ariadne shoots her, and as Mal’s projection dies in Cobb’s arms, he is able to tell her, “I miss you more than I can bear, but we had our time together. And now I have to let go.” He makes his peace, and Ariadne has guided him out of his inner labyrinth.

Ultimately, Cobb, Ariadne, and the wounded dreamers find their way out of limbo, and all of the dreamers awaken from the dream. In the midst of Cobb’s inner battle, the team successfully completed their job of inception. The heist is over, and as a reward from the man who hired them, Cobb’s name has been cleared with the authorities. No longer a suspect in his wife’s death, he is free to go home to his children.

In the film, all of the individuals who enter the realm of dream-share own a totem, an item that Hillman has identified as “keepers of our lives” (Re-Visioning 47). The totem is something individuals have created for themselves to be able to identify if they are dreaming or not. Throughout the film, Cobb uses Mal’s totem, a spinning top.

If he is in a dream, the top never stops spinning. When he is awake, it topples over. This helps Cobb differentiate between waking life and the dream realm. When Cobb arrives home, he spins the top on a table to make sure he is not dreaming about this long-awaited reunion with his children. Before he can see if the top has stopped spinning, his children turn to see him from the backyard. He walks through a doorway – a significant image that “marks the incarnation of the divine [back] into the mortal realm” (Smith, Sacred 32) – and embraces his children. The camera shifts over to the spinning top, but the screen cuts to black before viewers can see if it stops spinning. As the film ends, viewers are left with this question: Was Cobb dreaming?

After exploring the film as an underworld story, it is clear that Cobb was not dreaming in the final scene. Mythologically, he must return to his children after undergoing transformation in the underworld. As Evans Lansing Smith identifies, “The mythic journey . . . reminds us that there is a passage through death, and a return journey to be made” (Sacred 16). Just as Inanna returns after her descent to the underworld and Odysseus finds his way home, so too must Cobb. The Nekyia, which Jacobi defines as containing “life, death and rebirth” (italics mine, 179), includes both the descent and ascent. This is clearly represented in Cobb’s figure about dreams, which echoes Campbell’s figure of the hero’s journey (Figures 1 & 2). The trip to the underworld always includes descent to and from the underworld, which permits the “creation of new self out of decomposition of old self” (italics mine; Smith, Class). If Cobb fails to return from the underworld, the journey is incomplete.

 

Works Cited

Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1972.

Davis, Paul et. al. eds. The Bedford Anthology of World Literature: The Ancient World, Beginnings-100C.E. Boston: Bedford / St. Martin’s, 2004.

Hillman, James. The Dream and the Underworld. New York: Harper & Row, 1979. Print.

—. Re-visioning Psychology. New York: Harper & Row, 1975.

Inception. Dir. Christopher Nolan. Perf. Leonardo Dicaprio and Ellen Page. 2010. DVD.

Jacobi, Jolande. Complex/archetype/symbol in the Psychology of C.G. Jung. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1959.

Nolan, Christopher. Inception: The Shooting Script. San Rafael, CA: Insight, 2010.

Smith, Evans Lansing. Class lecture. MS619: Myth and the Underworld. Pacifica Graduate Institute, Carpinteria, CA. 25 July 2012.

—. Sacred Mysteries: Myths About Couples in Quest. Nevada City: Blue Dolphin, 2003.

 

 

Works Consulted

Bulfinch, Thomas. Mythology. New York: Laurel, 1959. Print.

Psyche & Archetypes

Posted on by under Grad School, Life, Mythology, Psychology, Uncategorized

Following is the research paper I wrote this week for Ginette Paris’ course Post Jungian and Archetypal Psychology. I followed a structure Ginette suggested, and it really helped me work the material academically and personally. Most of the papers I have written at Pacifica are not personal like this, but this material works with the psyche in such a way that I would find it nearly impossible to discuss without including personal examples.

Part One: The Ideas

“Feeling is all. Discover your feelings; trust your feelings. The human heart is the way to soul and what psychology is all about” (Hillman Revisioning Psychology 181). Depth Psychologists understand something vital: the soul needs tending. The Western world has secured itself in the medical model and is typically intent upon fixing everything. While broken bones and crooked teeth can be fixed, the soul cannot. That is not even the correct approach or language to use with the soul. Depth Psychology, including Post-Jungian and Archetypal Psychology, is the soul-tending realm that explores mythology and archetypes, leading to a richer understanding of the psyche and the soul. This is necessary for being true to and taking care of the self, to one’s very essence and being.

Everyone suffers from psychic wounds, but the cure is not in fixing them: it is in psychologizing them, to really see through the circumstances and events in life and into the archetype. Each person’s perspective, in general and towards particular situations, lies in an archetype. To access and understand these archetypes, we look to the myths because “we meet archetypal reality through the perspective of myths” (Hillman Revisioning Psychology 157). The stories in the myths resonate because they reflect the human condition. Change the time, the names, and the specific circumstances, but certain threads and attributes are universal and timeless. The myths are not to be literalized but understood metaphorically. For example, no one can literally follow his love into the Underworld as Orpheus does for Euridyce. However, one may become involved in an Underworld experience with his love. Furthermore, one will not lose his love to the Underworld by looking back once, as Orpheus does, yet one may feel responsible for the death of a loved one. There are archetypes working here that are powerful and mythological. The role of the Depth Psychologist is to aid the patient in discovering, understanding and working with that archetype.

The archetype is something individuals can inhabit psychically and physically. While the focus of Depth Psychology lies in the psyche and the soul, these elements do not exist alone; they are embodied. There is, of course, an intimate connection between the mind and the body. One way or another, psychic activity will always to find a way to express itself. As Ginette Paris specifies, “What the psyche refuses to acknowledge, the body always manifests” (xi). With the guides in Depth Psychology and mythology, one can better understand the psyche and its functioning archetypes before complexes, which “interfere with the intentions of the will and disturb the conscious performance” (Sharp 19), take over the mind or inhabit the body.

For example, individuals may unconsciously embrace the victim archetype. The perspective these individuals maintain indicates that things happen to them and that they are not in control of their life. If someone is unconscious of this functioning archetype, it may start to manifest physically, possibly through fatigue, soreness, or other aches and pains that are not related to anything that physically occurred. This can create a vicious, useless cycle of being in pain and being burdened by it, which can contribute to perpetuating archetype. Depth Psychology can be used then not to fix this problem, but to bring the patient to an awareness of what is occurring in the psyche. When a patient recognizes what is going on, the physical symptoms will dissipate. This recognition from the patient allows for deeper work to begin with the psyche, which may include a reframing of the archetypal perspective. The archetypes are “the deepest patterns of psychic functioning, the roots of the soul governing the perspectives we have of ourselves and the world” (Hillman Revisioning Psychology xix). Accessing them then becomes the most important goal in therapy or any quest of the psyche.

Part Two: Influence on My Thinking

The approach of Depth Psychology is having a tremendous effect on my psyche. I suffer from chronic pain in my rib from an injury I incurred nearly ten years ago. This injury impacts me physically and presents me with limitations and pain. Perhaps even greater though is the way it impacts me psychically. I was injured training in martial arts and because of the injury, I cannot return to my beloved sport. At times, this is intolerably frustrating. My sense of self, my ego, my pride, and my self-image all resided in my martial arts training. Since the time that my injury forced me to stop training, I have had many psychic struggles. I have seen several different therapists, and none of them really helped me. I see now that what I really need is a Depth Psychologist or Jungian Analyst, one who will tend to my soul, who will help me more carefully identify my archetypal lens and direct me in using mythology to better cope. I very carefully use the word “cope” because I know I cannot fix what happened to me nor can I fix the fact that I miss martial arts.

What I can do, however, is change my perspective, my archetypal lens. As Zeldin explains, “Nothing influences our ability to cope with the difficulties of existence so much as the context in which we view them” (13). If I view my injury from the victim perspective, then I will remain the victim; if I view my injury from the heroic perspective, then I become a hero! In Wisdom of the Psyche, Ginette Paris supplies a fitting example of living after suffering a tragedy when she discusses a man whose son killed his wife. Though this is direr than what I have suffered, her conclusion resonates with me: “There is no redeeming what happened; it will remain tragic forever” (66). I will never have the same body or the same capabilities, and there is a tragedy in the fact that I was an athlete permanently injured at a young age. I think it is good to recognize and acknowledge that; however, I do not have to go on living it as a tragedy. In paraphrasing Casey, Hillman explains that “a trauma is not what happened but the way we see what happened” (Hillman Healing Fiction 47). Changing my perspective can absolutely change the event and the way I live in its aftermath.

In one of the sessions of Post-Jungian and Archetypal Psychology, Ginette Paris led the class through an exercise where we wrote the story of our lives. I focused my story around my injury, and when I re-wrote it from the archetypal perspective of the victim, I found it very easy to sink into it. I actually found that by the end of writing it, I was slouched as low in my chair as I could be. I felt defeated. I absolutely embodied victimhood. Everything had been taken from me, and I felt sorry for myself.

Something magical happened though when I re-wrote it again from the archetypal perspective of the hero. I was soon rising up in my seat and sitting tall. I was proud as I looked at all the things I have accomplished in spite of the injury. Though I was removed from my chosen athletic lifestyle, I did not stop my experience of life. I persevered through the pain and limitations, first through an undergraduate program, then through my English master’s degree, and now with my degree at Pacifica. I have absolutely embraced academia by being a successful student and becoming a college teacher. I have made a new life for myself, and that is quite a different story from the one told by the victim archetype. This exercise really brought the ideas home for me and gave me a true appreciation and understanding of the power the archetypal perspective possesses.

I think I have oscillated between these two archetypal perspectives since my injury, sometimes feeling victimized, especially when I really am in great physical pain. At other times I do feel heroic and have a great sense of pride in my new life. If I only felt sorry for myself, I would not have managed all my academic accomplishments. Nevertheless, it has been a continual battle with one step forward, two steps back. Despite my successes, I still embody this injury and maintain a sense of loss. I have learned something very interesting from Hillman, however: “In your symptom is your soul, could be a motto” (Hillman Healing Fiction 100). This is something I want to explore more, to understand not only intellectually, but to feel resonate in my psyche. I now wonder in what ways I can transform this physical symptom and experience through an archetypal perspective.

As I have wavered between the victim and hero archetypes, I think the very thing that has prohibited me from any lasting progress is that I have been lost in the why question. I often wonder why I cannot let go of what happened to me and just “move on.” I have sometimes blamed myself for the injury, which leads me to ask why I allowed myself to train with a dangerous partner that night. This has been problematic. Depth Psychology reveals the proper approach: in looking at the archetypes, individuals leave behind the why question and look into the who question: “We look to archetypes for the formal meaning and purpose in events rather than their causal origin or material base” (Hillman Revisioning Psychology 176). Personally, I can now see that asking why has provided me with no answers, no substance, and no use. From James Hillman and Ginette Paris, I have learned an invaluable lesson: I need to ask who?! Who is the archetype here? Who is the black shadow I have seen when I have performed active imagination? By looking into this, I can name the archetypes and begin to work with them, leaving behind any questions of why.

Part Three: Remaining Questions and Review

Depth Psychology and mythology, which are inherently intertwined, are extraordinarily rich, multi-layered, and soulful. In completing this first year of course-work, I see how beautifully all the courses relate to one another and build upon each other. This course was a wonderful compliment to the completion of the spring quarter course Jungian Psychology. Through all these courses, I am building more than a path to academic success; I am on a journey of the soul. I know I have yet to firmly grasp and integrate all this material, and I look forward to the following two years of course work at Pacifica. I know I have much to learn.

I am not left with any specific questions, but with a sense of awe and excitation. Furthermore, there is one specific archetype that I look forward to exploring in depth: the wounded healer. Chiron was first introduced to me in the course Dreams, Myth and Symbol, and I was immediately captivated. The idea of the wounded-healer came up again briefly in this course. I think this is an archetype that is functioning in me, and I really want to get my hands on all the related material I can. Hillman indicates that “The healer is the illness and the illness is the healer” (Revisioning Psychology 75). This powerful idea resonates with me, and I know I am truly just beginning to digest it.

I am very curious about illness and pain, especially chronic pain, and their relationship with the psyche. Since the rib injury, I have also developed carpal tunnel (another chronic injury) and interstitial cystitis (a chronic bladder condition, which my mother also has). I wonder what it is in me, physically and/or psychically, that leads not to simple broken bones or head colds but to these chronic conditions. I want to understand the archetype of the wounded-healer, how it applies to me, and how it applies to others. The archetypes have become very important to me as I have come to recognize what a vital role they play in the psyche, in each individual’s perspective, and in every person’s interactions with the self, each other, and the world. Ultimately, I hope to use my wounds to heal not just myself, but others. I believe my role as an educator will provide me with this forum. Though I still have much to learn about mythology, archetypal psychology, my own symptoms, my own archetypes and my own complexes, I feel I have a strong foundation for continuing on this journey.

Works Cited

Hillman, James. Healing Fiction. Barrytown, N.Y: Station Hill Press, 1983. Print.

— Re-Visioning Psychology. New York: HarperPerennial, 1992. Print.

Paris, Ginette. Wisdom and Psyche: Depth Psychology After Neuroscience. London: Routledge, 2007. Print.

Sharp, Daryl, and C. G. Jung. Jung Lexicon: a Primer of Terms & Concepts. Toronto, Canada: Inner City, 1991. Print.

Zeldin. An Intimate History of Humanity. New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 1995. Print.

Wisdom of the Psyche

Posted on by under Books, Grad School, Psychology

I made sooo many notes!

Wisdom of the Psyche by Ginette Paris

My rating: 5 of 5 stars

This week, I had a beautiful spiritual, intellectual love affair with Ginette Paris’ Wisdom of the Psyche: Depth Psychology after Neuroscience. The book is a requirement for a summer course I am taking with Dr. Paris in a couple weeks. I really knew nothing about the text or her when I sat down with it. The preface took me by surprise: this was not just another academic venture. This book comes from her absolute being, written in the aftermath of surviving a fall that caused her brain to hemorrhage. This is a profound exploration of the human psyche, ardently written and informed by her academic career. I heartily recommend it to anyone interested at all in the human condition, mind, and spirit.

Paris has a wonderful way of combining the academic with the personal, even including other voices in her text by discussing former patients and providing personal writing samples on both her personal experiences and theirs. She really lets the reader in, allowing a transformative reading experience. At the core of the text, she is, of course, examining psyche. She also provides numerous accessible definitions for depth psychology. And, within that, here’s just some of the potent ideas she discusses: racism, homosexuality, feminism, consumerist culture, archetypes, storytelling, parenting, pain, family, conflict, education, language, soul, redemption, religion, history, globalization, love, soma, relationships, identity, adulthood, anxiety, fear, and depression.

I just finished the book a little while ago, and my head is just buzzing with a million thoughts. I can’t wait to start delving into them more, especially when I get to attend her lectures!

View all my reviews