Tag Archives: depth psychology

Embracing the Shadow: An Exploration of A Wizard of Earthsea

Posted on by under Grad School, Psychology, Words for Wednesday, Writing

“The shadow personifies everything that the subject refuses to acknowledge about himself and yet is always thrusting itself upon him directly or indirectly” (Jung 221). The shadow, an important concept Carl Jung explored throughout his career, exists individually as well as collectively (Bly 26). Societies used to confront and work through the shadow with rituals (Slater CL1). Now that those fundamental ceremonies for confronting it have all but vanished, the shadow has a stronger presence. According to Glen Slater, “Modern existence is inherently shadow making” (Slater CL3). Collectively and individually, the shadow needs to be recognized “so it doesn’t take over or jump out” (Slater CL2). When the shadow is ignored, then its “energies become destructive” (Bly 59).

One place where the shadow is acted out is in literature: “All literature, both of the primitive and the modern peoples, can be thought of as creations by the ‘dark side’ to enable it to rise up from earth and join the sunlit conscious again” (Bly 63). Dark shadow-figures, often in the form of a person’s double, are commonly depicted in film, literature, and television. In Ursula Le Guin’s novel A Wizard of Earthsea, the protagonist, the young wizard Ged, performs a spell that unleashes a literal shadow. Le Guin’s use of the shadow specifically as a physical shadow works stronger than metaphors in other works of fiction because she is using the language needed (by always calling it a “shadow”), and she is showing the psychological process of confronting the shadow. Ged’s interactions with his shadow resonate for readers as his movements parallel Robert Bly’s five stages in “exiling, hunting, and retrieving the shadow” (Bly 27). Through the novel, Le Guin develops Ged as a character that has generally good intentions, but still has that darker side, a duality that is present in all individuals. The novel demonstrates that the shadow side must be reconciled with, and Le Guin does this by implementing not just a shadow metaphor, but an actual physical shadow that is truly a part of the main character.

The shadow imagery begins in the very first chapter of A Wizard of Earthsea. When young Ged casts his first major spell to protect his home town, he does so with “a mess of shadows” (Le Guin 13). Shortly thereafter, when Ged leaves town with his first teacher, Ogion, he steps “through the leaves and shadows of bright autumn” (Le Guin 15, italics mine). The problem Ged is developing with his shadow is immediately apparent as he is primarily focused on learning “to gain power” and dismissing the importance of balance in the use of magic (18). In fact, it is his desire to demonstrate his power that leads him to the spell that will come to physically unleash his shadow. After a young girl in the woods challenges Ged’s ability to perform any useful spell, Ged looks at a forbidden spell book of Ogion’s. The first spell that catches his attention is one that summons the dead. As he reads this text, the appearance of his shadow is foreshadowed: “he saw that something was crouching beside the closed door, a shapeless lot of shadow darker than the darkness” (22). Ogion then enters, dispelling what he later calls only “the shadow of a shadow” (127). With concern, the master wizard questions young Ged: “Have you never thought how danger must surround power as shadow does light?” (23). Unfortunately, this does not resonate with the headstrong Ged. Recognizing Ged’s frustration in not learning more spells from him, Ogion gives Ged the choice between staying with him or advancing more quickly by attending Roke, a school for wizards. Ged chooses the latter.

The shadow imagery continues as Ged travels to Roke on a ship aptly named Shadow. Le Guin is not overusing the imagery, but building towards the inevitable confrontation Ged will have with his shadow. Ged’s shadow is present, as it is for all individuals, but he is refusing to see it. The readers need to see this growth of the shadow figure within Ged because, as Jung warns, “the less [the shadow] is embodied in the individual’s conscious life, the blacker and denser it is” (88). Ged’s shadow is going to erupt, and because he has so heartily ignored it, it is going to be vicious. When Ged enters his new school, “it seem[s] to him though the light was behind him, a shadow followed him in at his heels” (Le Guin 34). While readers are starkly aware of the shadow imagery and sense the impending doom, Ged remains arrogant, eager to learn and impress others.

Ged’s new instructor, The Master Hand, immediately explains to Ged that “[t]he world is in balance, in Equilibrium . . . To light a candle is to cast a shadow” (44). Nevertheless, this warning, like that from Ogion, falls on deaf ears: Ged believes that “surely a wizard . . . was powerful enough to do what he pleased, and balance the world as seemed best to him, and drive back darkness with his own light” (44). Like all youngsters, Ged must learn through experience. Jacobi indicates that “[i]n psychology, one possesses nothing unless one has experienced it in reality” (14). Essentially, Ged must face his own shadow, as everyone must. If he had heeded any of the warnings from his instructors, perhaps his shadow would not have become so dark, powerful and threatening. However, of course, “[W]e have to learn to discipline ourselves. And discipline rests on the ability to act in a manner that is contrary to our feelings when necessary. This is an eminently human prerogative as well as a necessity” (Whitmont 167). Self-discipline and shadow-work is vital for development, and because Ged has so deeply ignored his shadow, the work is going to be especially difficult for him.

One of the first subjects Ged studies at Roke is Summoning, which leads him to “certain phrases . . . that he did not like to say [that] made him think, for an instant, of shadows in a dark room, of a shut door and shadows reaching out to him from the corner by the door” (Le Guin 54). He reluctantly remembers the darkness when he was looking at the spell book at Ogion’s, but he tells himself these are “shadows merely of his ignorance” (54). Not only has he ignored the warnings from his masters, but now he is even ignoring his own intuition. As Bernardo and Murphy emphasize in their study on the novel, “Ged sees himself as an individual who should be able to act simply because he wishes to. He does not see connections between his actions and a widening circle of events.” By not seeing his shadow or acknowledging it, Ged is essentially possessed by it. His drive for power continues as he refuses to recognize the importance of balance. This continues to build his shadow.

In his book A Little Book on the Human Shadow, Robert Bly discusses how people continually fill their “bag” with shadow figures. In Part 3 of his text, Bly thoroughly breaks down the five stages of facing one’s shadow. He does stress that “[w]e don’t live wholly at any moment in . . . any stage; we are in all five stages simultaneously” (Bly 38). There is a development, though, that is apparent in the stages demonstrating how one can lead to the next. Of course, confronting the shadow is not easy work, so the individual does slip around the stages as he continues through this struggle, likely through his lifetime. In A Wizard of Earthsea, after Ged’s shadow physically manifests itself, his journey lies in learning to embrace it as a part of himself; this serves as a great example of moving through Bly’s five stages of facing the shadow.

One night, Ged’s pride is pushed so far that he uses the spell he read at Ogion’s and summons a spirit from the dead. Jungian Analyst Robert A. Johnson explains that when the shadow “accumulates more energy than our ego, it erupts . . . The shadow gone autonomous is a terrible monster in our psychic house” (5). Ged’s action unleashes an actual physical shadow, described by Le Guin as a shadow “the size of a young child [with] no head or face” (61). This is the moment when Ged encounters Bly’s first stage, wherein the shadow “comes to rest outside the owner’s psyche, and seems likely to remain out there somewhere” (31). At this moment, neither Ged nor the readers understand this shadow figure to actually be a part of Ged. It appears to be something that erupted from a dark spell. Because the shadow comes from Ged’s unconscious, he is unaware of its origins. As Jung notes, “[I]t is not the conscious subject but the unconscious which does the projecting” (92). The shadow, which has now been so long repressed, erupts aggressively and physically attacks Ged. According to Jung, “No one can overlook either the dynamism or the imagery of the instincts [including the shadow, which arises from the unconscious] without the gravest injury to himself” (Jung 389). In this confrontation, the shadow physically maims Ged, and when the Arch Mage saves the young wizard at the cost of his own life, the shadow flees.

Everyone at Roke, especially Ged, believes the shadow is something nameless and evil. Jung asserts that the shadow is not something evil: “If . . . the shadow . . . were obviously evil, there would be no problem whatever. But the shadow is merely somewhat inferior, primitive, unadapted, and awkward; not wholly bad. It even contains childish or primitive qualities which would in a way vitalize and embellish human existence” (90). The size of Ged’s shadow is a physical representation of its childish quality, while its violent instinct demonstrates its primitive quality. If Ged had recognized the shadow as himself in that moment, he could have prevented what becomes an arduous journey. However, that journey is necessary. Jung reveals the difficulties of facing the shadow:

To become conscious of [the shadow] involves recognizing the dark aspects of the personality as present and real. This act is the essential condition for any kind of self-knowledge, and it therefore, as a rule, meets with considerable resistance. Indeed, self-knowledge as a psychotherapeutic measure frequently requires much painstaking work extending over a long period. (91)

Appropriately, it takes years after this incident for Ged to successfully confront and join himself with his shadow. It is a difficult path met with a lot of resistance, but also with the great reward, in the end, of psychological wholeness.

After this dark confrontation, which has left Ged physically maimed and psychologically weakened, he stays at Roke to study quietly and “undo…the evil” (Le Guin 65). The new archmage identifies the monstrosity Ged released as an “evil shadow” and knows it will “possess” Ged if he leaves Roke immediately (65). The characters refer to the entity as a shadow because of its dark, characterless appearance. Le Guin is using the term aptly, as the psychological shadow is precisely what Ged is fighting against. The archmage appropriately describes it to Ged as “the shadow of [his] arrogance [and] ignorance,” though no one can really identify what it is (66). These comments bare more truth than Ged, his masters, or the reader can yet recognize.

Ged stays to study in silence, essentially ostracizing himself from the other students. According to Bly, Jung’s reports illustrate that “when the shadow is successfully repressed, the person doing it finds it very difficult to talk to other people about feelings” (Bly 50-51). Though the shadow is out in the world now, it is still something repressed because Ged cannot recognize it as a part of himself and does not even wish to discuss the incident with anyone. In Bly’s second stage, there is some type of rattle or disturbance wherein “something doesn’t quite fit anymore” (31). Though Ged is safe from the shadow at Roke, after completing his studies he is ready to go out into the world. On a subconscious level, Ged is aware that “to be cured it is necessary to find a way in which his conscious personality and his shadow can live together” (Jung 89). He knows the shadow is waiting for him, but becomes unsettled and uneasy at Roke. His focused training after the unleashing of the shadow has inspired him to help people instead of impress them, and Ged moves to the small town Pendor to protect the citizens from dragons.

Ged befriends Pechvarry, and when his new friend’s son is dying, Ged tries to save him with a spell. When he enters the liminal space between life and death, he sees the shadow for the first time since the night it was unleashed. Ged will later understand the relevance of meeting the shadow in the realm of death, for it is in fact the shadow of his own death that he unleashed. Through this spell, Ged barely survives, and the child is lost. At this time, Ged moves into Bly’s third stage “in which the distressed person calls on the moral intelligence to repair the rattle” (34). Ged wants to flee from the shadow, but he first wants to complete the task that brought him to Pendor.

Rather than waiting for the dragons to attack Pendor, Ged takes the fight to them. The eldest dragon tries to bargain with Ged, offering to name the shadow that hunts him. True names have a great power in Earthsea, and by knowing the shadow’s name, Ged would know it as himself. Of course, the psychological process cannot be achieved if one does not personally recognize the dark part as self. Importantly, Ged refuses the dragon’s offer and kills him and his offspring. At this point, Ged is more determined to save the Pendor people than himself. The wizard who was initially driven by power and glory has undergone great development.

With Pendor safe, Ged flees to both escape the shadow, which he fears facing again, and to spare Pendor from the shadow creature. While Ged retreats from the shadow, another confrontation drives him back to his true master, Ogion. He is now prepared to hear and heed his master’s advice: “Now turn clear round, and seek the very source . . . There lies your hope of strength” (Le Guin 128). Encouraged by his master, Ged bravely switches from the role of the hunted to that of the hunter, perhaps another indication the two are the same. Once Ged begins to hunt the shadow, it assumes Ged’s physical appearance. As Johnson indicates, “whether we know it or not our psychic twin follows us like a mirror image” (Johnson 16). Though there are reports from others of a man looking just like him, Ged still does not recognize himself in the shadow.

In the next meeting with the shadow, Ged tries to grab the shadow by force and fails. In The Symbolic Quest, psychotherapist Edward C. Whitmont explains that the “energy [of the shadow] cannot simply be stopped by an act of will. What is needed is rechanneling or transformation. However, this task requires both an awareness and an acceptance of the shadow as something which cannot simply be gotten rid of” (Whitmont 166). Ged thinks he needs to overcome the shadow, to kill it. Of course, this is not possible since the shadow is a part of his “unconscious personality” (Jung 87). Ultimately, after Ged tries to attack the shadow, it flees. Until he can recognize the shadow as himself, he cannot unite with it or achieve wholeness. Ged does begin to recognize that his “acts have their echo in it; it is [his] creature” (Le Guin 160). He is starting to accept ownership, but still sees the shadow as something monstrous he created, not as something that is a part of him.

Ged does not know how to defeat his shadow monster. In Bly’s fourth stage, “one gives up for a moment. . . we suddenly look into ourselves and see our own diminishment” (Bly 36). In hunting it and failing to so much as grasp it, Ged feels a momentary defeat. He continues to hunt the shadow, but does not know what he will do when he finds it. In a fortuitous moment, Ged runs into his old friend Estarriol from Roke. This is a key step in moving towards his final confrontation with the shadow because even though one must personally recognize his own shadow, the task does not require solitude: “Our friends play crucial roles in what we call the fourth stage” (37). The friend’s role is not to offer empty platitudes and insist things will be okay. In fact, Bly indicates such congeniality is useless. Instead, the true friend brings steady, moral support on the quest.

As a concerned friend, Estarriol insists upon accompanying Ged as he sets out across the ocean to search for his shadow. During this time, Ged comes closer to understanding that the shadow is an aspect of himself. He acknowledges to Estarriol, without yet understanding the full meaning of his words, “If I lose it, I am lost” (Le Guin 173). Earthsea, which is composed mostly of islands, is mapped only to a certain distance. Where the land disappears and the ocean becomes expansive, it is believed the world drops off. Ged is now willing to move into these uncharted waters, which are representative of the unconscious, the home of the shadow. This is the place Ged must go. Furthermore, not only is the ocean representative of the unconscious, but “[w]ater has often been used as a symbol for the deepest spiritual nourishment of humanity” (Johnson ix). This nourishment is exactly what Ged needs to complete his psychological wholeness and achieve the quest of the novel.

This hunt brings Ged into Bly’s fifth and final stage of “eating the shadow” (Bly 38). As Ged travels silently with his companion, he begins to recognize the shadow for what it truly is. He finally understands that the shadow is not something he created or unleashed, but that it is an unrecognized part of himself. His original way of thinking, to confront or overcome the shadow, was incorrect. He needs to identify and accept it, and he will do this by calling the shadow its true name: Ged. Not only do true names hold an important power in Earthsea, but “[u]sing language consciously seems to be the most fruitful method of retrieving shadow substance scattered out in the world. Energy we have sent out is floating around beyond the psyche; and one way to pull it back into the psyche is the rope of language” (42-43). This language, this naming of the shadow, of the self, is the final step for Ged in owning his shadow.

In the final confrontation, before Ged vocally names his shadow, it appears to him as shapeless. Then it goes through a series of transformations, taking on the following successive appearances: Ged’s father (who Ged left behind to study wizardy), Jasper (the wizard Ged was showing off to when he unleashed the shadow), Pechvarry (the friend whose son Ged failed to save), and Skiorh (a man who the shadow temporarily took hold of when chasing Ged). All these individuals represent different parts of Ged’s journey against his shadow: respectively, his inability to see the shadow, his arrogance in unleashing it, his fear of it, and his inability to see it for what it is. After this display, the shadow turns back “into black emptiness” (Le Guin 178). Once the shadow drops its guises, Ged recognizes the shadow as himself. Ged “took hold of his shadow, of the black self that reached out to him. Light and darkness met, and joined, and were one” (179). The wizard now holds a balance within himself. He has learned responsibility the responsibility of wizardry and reconciled the good and the bad within himself.

In naming his shadow, Ged recognizes what comprises his shadow. Le Guin describes, “Ged had neither lost nor won but, naming the shadow of his death with his own name, had made himself whole” (180). The spell to summon the dead and his own confrontation with death at the hands of his own shadow demonstrates what Ged had really poured into his shadow: his own mortality. In his arrogant youth, Ged felt invincible. Because he saw no harm falling upon himself because of his ability to alter the world through his powers of magic, he buried his own vulnerability deep in his shadow. Ged could not have contributed much to the world with his original attitude. In fact, if he had continued in his reckless ways, he surely would have done more harm than good. His progress here represents Johnson’s important recognition: “To own one’s shadow is to reach a holy place – an inner center – not attainable in any other way. To fail this is to fail one’s own sainthood and to miss the purpose of life” (Johnson 17). The following Earthsea books reveal the purpose of Ged’s life as a great and masterful wizard.

After his final confrontation with the shadow, Ged explains to Estarriol that his wound is “healed” and he is now “whole” and “free” (Le Guin 180). Ged has incorporated his shadow self and achieved what Jung identified as individuation, which Glen Slater describes as both “growing more into your uniqueness and character [and] feeling more connected to the human story as a whole” (CL1). By achieving individuation and incorporating his shadow, Ged can venture into the world as a psychological whole prepared to aid others on their journeys. This shadow hunt has been a great psychological journey for Ged, and it was necessary in his formation as a powerful and responsible wizard. As Jung indicates, “anyone who has insight into his own actions, and has thus found access to the unconscious, involuntarily exercises an influence on his environment” (Jung 401). With his magical abilities united with a sense of balance, Ged now has much to contribute to the world.

Through this novel, Le Guin has successfully demonstrated Bly’s steps of working with, confronting, and eating the shadow. The details and actions she writes demonstrate that this is not an easy process, but definitely a necessary one. By calling the shadow what it is, a shadow, the metaphor of the unleashed creature is strong and resonant for readers. Le Guin makes the process of the facing the shadow, one that must be recognized individually and collectively, identifiable and opens the ground for discussions amongst readers and scholars. The novel, written for children, is accessible to all ages and has a profound resonance even if one is not familiar with Jung’s terms and definitions.

 

 

Works Cited

Bernardo, Susan M. and Graham J. Murphy. Ursula K. Le Guin: A Critical Companion. Westport: Greenwood, 2006. N. pag. Kindle Edition.

Bly, Robert. A Little Book on the Human Shadow. San Francisco: Harper and Row, 1988. Print.

Jacobi, Jolande S. Complex/Archetype/Symbol in the Psychology of C.G. Jung. Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1959. Print.

Johnson, Robert A. Owning Your Own Shadow: Understanding the Dark Side of the Psyche. New York: Harper and Row, 1991. Print.

Jung, C. G. and Anthony Storr. The Essential Jung. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1983. Print.

Le Guin, Ursula. A Wizard of Earthsea. New York: Bantam Books, 1968. Print.

Slater, Glen. “Class Lecture 1.” Jungian Depth Psychology. Pacifica Graduate Institute, Carpinteria. 13 Apr. 2011. Lecture.

– “Class Lecture 2.” Jungian Depth Psychology. Pacifica Graduate Institute, Carpinteria. 19 May 2009. Lecture.

– Class Lecture 3.” Jungian Depth Psychology. Pacifica Graduate Institute, Carpinteria. 23 June 2011. Lecture.

Whitmont, Edward C. The Symbolic Quest. New York: H Wolf Book Manufacturing Company, 1969. Print.

Depth Psychology and Culture

Posted on by under Buffyverse, Grad School, Mythology, Pop Culture, Psychology, Whedonverse, Writing

In celebration and honor of passing the comprehensive exams in my Master’s program in Mythological Studies and Depth Psychology, I’m sharing each essay I wrote. Here’s the final one. Here I was required to look at a piece of popular culture or media from a mythological and depth psychological perspective. Of course, I turned to Whedon, and then to my dear blue friend, Illyria. The handful of episodes she is in are amazingly dynamic and loaded. For more on Illyria –and here comes my shameless plug– check out Joss Whedon: The Complete Companion for my piece, “Touch Me and Die, Vermin!”: The Psychoanalysis of Illyria.

Myth and Psychology in Angel

Television shows offer a great avenue for telling mythological stories with detailed characters and events unfolding over a period of time. Series such as Angel provide viewers with a mythology that is as rich as those developed in ancient texts. A spin-off of the popular series Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel captured viewers’ attention for five seasons as it explored the individual journeys of each main character in its ensemble cast. Throughout my course work at Pacifica, I have explored the mythological elements of this series. I examined thecharacter Angel as the modern Oedipus (Greek and Roman I), explored the series Angel as a Tragedy (Greek and Roman II), and examined the role and significance of the Apocalypse in Angel in relation to DH Lawrence’s Apocalypse (Approaches to the Study of Myth). Through this research, I have found the most provocative mythological and psychological storyline in Angel occurs in season five with the characters Wesley and Illyria.

One of the main characters in Angel is Wesley Wyndham Price. He is a human that works with the vampire Angel in this series about a group of misfits that fight against the dark supernatural forces in Los Angeles. Wesley falls in love with the human Winifred “Fred” Burkle, but Fred’s body is overtaken by the godking Illyria (an old one who once ruled in the world at the beginning of time). As Wesley mourns the loss of his love, he has to deal with the unpredictable godking who has replaced her. Illyria has one simple goal: to regain her full powers (beyond what her human vessel can contain) and reclaim her rule over the world. She believes she is better than humans. Her character is representative of the god complex, and as her ego faces defeat, Illyria comes to know emotional pain.

Joseph Campbell asserts that pain is a part of our humanity: “The impact of this horror on a sensitive consciousness is terrific – this monster which is life. Life is a horrendous presence, and you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that” (Pathways 3). This idea is illustrated throughout the Angel series quite often as all the characters face dangerous trials and tribulations. It is accentuated in the character of Illyria as she undergoes a great transformation and explores human emotions. Furthermore, the storyline with Wesley and Illyria includes the four functions of mythology, which Joseph Campbell asserts must be present in a traditional mythology, and which address living with the “horrendous presence” of life. Historically, a mythology itself would provide these four functions (discussed in detail below) for the members of a given a society. In the popular culture form, the mythology of Angel depicts the four functions within the story itself, allowing audience members to see the characters grapple with matters they can relate to. Though humans do not literally face the supernatural forces characterized in Angel, the truth of these battles exists in our daily lives as we struggle to live in this world.

According to Campbell, the first function of a mythology is cosmological and requires the individual to look at the mystery of the world and make some type of reconciliation with it (Pathways 104). Illyria and Wesley must make reconciliation with the world as it is, especially after they have both suffered great losses: she is no longer a ruler, and he no longer has the love of his life. This process of reconciliation may be even more difficult for Illyria because her previous status exempted her from human emotions. Though Wesley never suffered such a tragic loss as the death of Fred, he is at least familiar with the pain and misery of living in a world filled with disappointment, loss, and death.

In Illyria’s first appearance in the episode “Shells,” she is quick to express her views of the human experience as she examines Wesley mourning the loss of Fred: “This is grief. I’m watching human grief. It’s like offal in my mouth.” In a following comment, she declares, “Your breed is fragile.” In this early observation, Illyria quickly distinguishes herself from humans. However, by the end of the episode, Illyria learns her temple and army are destroyed, and she painfully expresses, “My world is gone.” She suffers disappointment, something she never felt as a godking. At this time of her defeat, she is really being born into this human world, and the first connection between her and Wesley occurs when he replies, “Now you know how I feel.”

Struggling through this cosmological stage, Illyria analyzes the world around her and concludes, “I’ve nowhere to go. My kingdom is long dead. There’s so much I don’t understand. I’ve become overwhelmed. I’m unsure of my place. But I exist here. I must learn to walk in this world.” Anyone who has suffered a significant loss can understand Illyria’s feelings. It is at this point that she formally asks a hesitant Wesley to be her guide. He agrees, and they both try to re-establish their place in the world. At this point, Wesley’s role also exhibits the fourth function of myth, which will be discussed below.

After acknowledging the harsh truths of reality, Illyria moves toward “[t]he second function [of mythology which] serves to present a universe within which the mystery as understood will be present, so that everywhere you look at it, as it were, a holy picture, [opens] up in back to the great mystery” (Campbell, Pathways 105). After looking at the mystery of creation, the individual begins to look at the meaning or significance of the self in this world. Illyria despises her human form, and as she examines the world around her, she feels trapped. Wesley takes her to a rooftop to offer some breathing room, though she still complains: “Your world is so small. And yet you box yourselves in rooms even smaller. You shut yourselves inside, in rooms, in routines” (“Underneath”). As Wesley tries to discuss the difficulties of existence that lie beyond the walls, Illyria begins to demonstrate the humanity she too “reeks” of, finally concluding, “We are so weak (italics mine).” Her ego is beginning to recognize that she is no longer a godking.

As Illyria continues her earthbound struggle, “The third, sociological function of mythology [which] gives you laws for living within your own society” appears (Campbell Pathways 107). This function encourages the development of a moral code. As her guide, Wesley has been trying to explain the differences between right and wrong to Illyria. When Illyria first chooses to participate in the climactic apocalyptic battle the protagonists face, her motives are not altruistic. Illyria herself explains, “I’ve been broken and humiliated. I will return in kind every blow, every sting. I will shred my adversaries. Pull their eyes out just enough to turn them towards their mewing, mutilated faces” (“Not Fade Away”). She is still controlled by her desire to assert her power. However, when Wesley dies in battle, Illyria begins to get in touch with her humanity. She mourns for him and expresses, “I’m feeling grief for him. I can’t seem to control it.” Illyria’s response to his death demonstrates she has developed the ability to emotionally connect. She is just starting to move beyond her own desires and function within the society she has found herself in.

Illyria provides an unadulterated view of human struggles, and Wesley shows how to deal with the passage of life from birth to death, fulfilling the fourth and final psychological function of mythology. According to Campbell, “All societies are evil, sorrowful, inequitable; and so they will always be. So if you want to help this world, what you will have to teach is how to live in it. And that no one can do who has not himself learned how to live in it in the joyful sorrow and sorrowful joy of the knowledge of life as it is” (Myths to Live By 104). Once exposed to the human condition, we are all subject to the same vulnerabilities. This shared experience makes us all equal; no one is “above” the pleasures or the pain of it all. Wesley’s key role here is to teach Illyria learn to live in this world, while he manages his own suffering. It is important to note that it is not through any supernatural powers but through their choices that the characters in Angel, particularly Wesley, are defined as heroes. The greatest choice is the one to continue to face the despair in the world and to continue to fight for the world in spite of the pain. Throughout the series, and as seen in this storyline, Angel not only functions as mythology, but depicts ways to accept the pain of life. Campbell emphasizes that, “All life stinks, and you must embrace that with compassion” (Pathways 77).

Illyria makes negative comments about humanity that viewers can relate to, and one could ask why anyone would want to be human and experience all the suffering. However, it is through the pain that human life becomes magnificent. In a unique depiction of the four functions of mythology, Illyria reveals the terrifying truths of living in this world. By embracing life as the brutal force it is, being a part of it, and willing to sacrifice it honorably, Wesley depicts humanity is at its best.

Wesley, who had stated that he did not intend to die in this battle, gave his life for Angel’s worthy cause in “Not Fade Away,” the series’ finale that emphasizes the underlying theme to the series, to fight the good fight (both physically and mentally). His nobility portrays the importance of their stand against dark forces. Finally, Wesley’s sacrifice stands out because he still sought to live and fight alongside Angel despite all the recent pain he suffered. The strength of his character throughout all five seasons of Angel demonstrates a true hero and an inspiring image of humanity. Though he did not survive the final battle, one can hope that his guidance will live on through Illyria and through the viewers.

Works Cited

Campbell, Joseph. Myths to Live By. New York: Penguin, 1972.

— Pathways to Bliss. Novato: New World, 2004.

“Not Fade Away.” Writ. Joss Whedon and Jeffrey Bell. Angel. WB. 19 May 2004.

“Shells.” Writ. Stephen S. DeKnight. Angel. WB. 3 March 2004.

“Underneath.” Writ. Sarah Fain and Elizabeth Craft. Angel. WB. 14 Apr. 2004.

Tribute to James Hillman, Pt 2

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

As the Gathering to Offer Tribute and Celebrate the Life and Work of James Hillman continued on Saturday, March 3, attendees were blessed with a variety of reflections from Hillman’s colleagues. Please enjoy the excerpts below.

Pacifica Graduate Institute, Ladera Campus

Dennis Slattery quoted Hillman from a presentation he gave in 2000 at UCSB: “Notice. Listen. Appreciate. Something is always speaking.” In addition to reflecting on the fun of parties at Hillman’s house, including a reluctant tap-dance performance by Hillman, Slattery focused on the soulful side of Hillman, citing a heart-felt gift Hillman once sent him. The gift was a reflection of Hillman’s listening. He truly heard his friends and colleagues when they spoke. Slattery concluded, “Listening to another human being might be the most generous gift we can give.”

Michael Sipiora placed emphases on the importance of one’s character and made a call for our society to untie the link between old age and death. Mary Watkins reflected on the welfare of society, concluding that “Self is a self among, not a soul apart.” Her call was to an awareness of dysfunction in community. Joe Coppin discussed a beautiful image of a living fence that appeared to him in a dream. In his imagining, this is something sufficient to hold ideas but not prevent them from flirting with other ideas. He concluded that dream is the natural state of the human mind. Ed Casey discussed Nietzsche’s notion “Love Your Fate” and examined how slowing down – one of Hillman’s great traits – makes sudden insight possible. In each of these reflections, the influence of Hillman shone through.

Glen Slater focused on the collective unconscious, which Hillman defined as unconsciousness of our collective history. Slater described that Hillman befriended ideas and would sit with them until they revealed their deeper characteristics. Hillman’s capacity for listening was reflected upon again and again, making clear his generosity and attention to detail in both his personal relationships and in his work. In conclusion, Slater explained that our ideas, like our complexes, often have us more than we have them. It appears Hillman had a better grip on his ideas than many of us manage. His patience with his ideas permitted him to present great depth in his books and presentations in a way that resonates for the intellect and the soul.

Robert Romanyshyn discussed places of language in the land of the soul. Quoting Keats’ notion of the world as the vale of soul-making, Romanyshyn declared that the consciousness of nature is in each of us through our collective unconscious. He directed that we can hold onto our epiphanies of words by letting them go. Important places to be are in the gap, on the bridge, at the threshold, at the edge of the abyss. He warned us that the best way to kill the soul is to bastardize logos.

Ginette Paris opened to the audience in a deeply personal way by sharing her experience at the loss of Hillman, her close friend and colleague. And in respect of her and her experience, I do not feel comfortable in restating it here. I mention it only to say that I was moved by her discussion, her openness, and her soulfulness. As she continued with her reflection, Paris indicated that during his sickness, Hillman stated, “I am dying, but I could not be more engaged in living.” Through personal experience and intimate understanding of Hillman, she powerfully depicted the vibrancy and energy he always maintained. She pointed us to the image of the tree, reminding that the soul sends roots down as much as it sends branches upward. Paris reflected further that the art of dying permits us each to have our own way. And it is through our own unique Rise and Fall that we get the variety of life, which was, according to Hillman, the “cosmic lesson of life.”

As the speakers participated in a brief roundtable discussion, Slater emphasized that our culture tends to ask for the separation of good and bad before asking if something is beautiful or ugly. He shared an antidote he had heard Hillman present. In short, if a kid drops the wrapper to his candy, the father shouldn’t talk about littering and the importance of picking up trash. Instead, he should tell the kid that if he doesn’t put the wrapper with the other wrappers, it will be lonely without its friends. Engage the imagination, the beauty, the soul!
Romanyshyn reflected again on “the connective tissue between ideas and taking time,” emphasizing that “words have roots in the suffering of the soul.”
Finally, Paris shared Hillman’s fantasy – and really love – of work. She said his image for working was a farmer. I envision honor, hard work, patience. Paris mentioned cleaning and creating.

Rumi: “It’s easier to be angry than to think.”

Continue to Pt 3

Photos © Myth Girl

Antarctica: Inner Journeys in the Outer World

Posted on by under Psychology

A couple of weeks ago, I had the opportunity to attend a book signing at Pacifica Graduate Institute with Robert D. Romanyshyn promoting his new DVD Antarctica: Inner Journeys in the Outer World. Listening to him speak about his trip to Antarctica was a touching and soulful experience. His eyes expressed so much about how deeply he was moved amidst the polar ice caps. He explained that he tried writing about it after he had returned home, thinking perhaps he would write a book about it. After all, that’s what he does! However, despite his lifetime a writer, he said he just could not make the words on the page come close to capturing his luminous experience.

That was when he turned to the photographs he had taken and came up with the idea for creating this beautiful DVD. It’s essentially a 36 minute slideshow of captivating photos of Antarctica, set to a stunning an original soundtrack. Occasionally, Robert interjects with powerful voice overs. Through this, he has performed everything shy of physically taking us into Antarctica.

As soon as my husband and I finished watching the DVD, he started  looking up cruise prices, curious about creating our own experience. Unfortunately, this is quite beyond our budget at this time, but Robert’s DVD provides a unique experience as well, allowing us to access his inner journey through this outer world. He shows us beautiful landscape, connects us to nature, and ends with a beautiful call to action.

Below is a preview for the DVD, and then a wonderful clip from the lecture “The Melting Polar Ice, Inner Journeys in the Outer World” that Robert presented in 2011. Enjoy! I highly recommend purchasing the DVD.

Depth Psychology

Posted on by under Mythology, Psychology

A friend of mine just shared this video of one of my favorite instructors at Pacifica. What a treasure! Ginette Paris has so much insight and is just an amazing individual to learn from. Here she discusses ideas from her book La Vida Interior (Wisdom of the Psyche), which I consider one of the most profound books I’ve read. She also gives a great overview of Depth Psychology (that important underlying element in my PhD program in Mythological Studies with an emphasis in Depth Psychology).

Enjoy!

Dream Tending

Posted on by under Grad School, Life, Mindfulness, Psychology

On Tuesday evening, I had the great privilege of attending a guest lecture with Stephen Aizenstat at Pacifica Graduate Institute. Second year students, myself included, are required to attend these extra Tuesday night seminars. However, many first and third year students attended as well to have the opportunity to see Dr. Aizenstat. It was truly a transformative night.

First Steven gave a brief overview of dreams, drawing to our awareness that in our culture we have differentiated between consciousness and unconsciousness, while other culture differentiate between different levels of awareness. Ultimately, dream tending can operate very differently depending on what culture you are part of! Then Steven spent a bit of time discussing his relationship with Pacifica. He said Pacifica started with an image. Steven founded Pacifica, and he discussed how inspirational and supportive his “elders” (including Joseph Campbell and James Hillman) were as he began this beautiful venture. Fun side note: Joseph Campbell’s desk from his New York apartment just arrived to Pacifica on Tuesday and will soon be available for display!

Stephen discussed how to work with the dream image. While interpreting an image can have its uses, the images become static when we do this. The traditional person-centered questions we tend to ask of dreams are: 1) What does it mean? 2) Why is it happening? Stephen introduced us into how to go into the image. The myth living through us is expressed through dream. We can access it by asking: 1) Who is visiting? 2) What is happening?  Stephen also explained that even the ego in the dream is functioning as a dream image and that it contains an archetypal depth. To access this, we need to let the imagination take over and look for the particularity, activity, and senses in the dream.

Image alive, body alive.

Body is image; image is body.

Stephen also instructed that the active imagination is probably closer to the psyche than the dream work, and one way he works through the dream image is with active imagination.

After giving us a brief crash course on dreams, Stephen started to ask for a volunteer to work with on a dream image. The second he presented this idea, my hand involuntarily went up. I’ve been facing a recurring dream image that has been clearly asking for deeper attention.

The image I’m encountering presents itself in different dreams under different circumstances, but this essential element is always the same: I’ll find a dead fish, and later it’s surprisingly alive and well. Each time this happens in a dream, my dream mind has no memory of it ever happening before. It’s always surprising and astonishing, and I’m always curious how it has happened. In my waking mind, I’ve come to think of this as my “resurrected fish motif.” The recurrence of the dream has recently become more frequent. Last week when I dreamed it, I thought about how I really need to start working with my dreams again. When I learned Stephen was giving a guest lecture on dream tending, I was quite excited! Which bring me back to my hand flying up when he asked for a volunteer.

Stephen reminded the audience that everything in the room is private, not to be shared with those outside of the room. I jokingly added, “Stop tweeting about my fish!” to my peers in the audience. Since it’s my fish, though, I’m privy to share it with the world! And if anyone who was with me at the lecture happens to be reading this, I welcome any comments! After working so deeply with this image, I am struggling to even put the dream tending experience into a chronological narrative. I imagine those that witnessed it might be able to describe the process more clearly.

After explaining my dream image, Stephen guided me through a type of active imagination. Fish was visible with us. (He pointed out that he removed the article so that “the fish” becomes simply “fish”). To begin with, fish was grey, swimming nonchalantly. As Stephen helped me connect more with fish, it became blue. Stephen repeatedly asked about fish’s movement and my emotional response. I was initially rooted in curiosity, coming from a head space. I felt fish had something to tell me. I then moved to a place of energy coming from a heart place. I came to recognize this energy as creative. Stephen immediately recognized this as a comfortable and familiar energy for me. He called it “home.”

To work within our twenty minute time limit, Stephen prompted me by asking if fish looked at me as I looked at it. Then fish’s eyes fixed on me. I explained fish’s big eyes. Stephen asked how it was moving. I said that fish was wavering back and forth to see me with both of his eyes. I made a motion with my right hand. Fish and I were connected, moving in sync. His fins opened beautifully.

Stephen told me to work with fish for five days. He said this image and energy is something that will probably move with me into my dissertation. He said I should invoke fish when I write my papers this semester.

Photo © MythGirl

For my five day’s work, he first assigned me to dance with fish on this first night. He said to start with that fish motion with my hand and follow it into a dance. I found this to be a rhythmic and soothing activity, perfect to embrace just before bed. For day two, I was to walk the grounds at Pacifica and invoke fish and follow him to see where he would lead me across the lush grounds. I was to be in that space with fish. I will briefly say this was a beautiful walk that lead me to an area filled with many butterflies and beauty. It was very peaceful, and really can put no other words on the experience. I am to continue invoking fish daily for the total of the five days, and then I am to do something artistic to create an image of fish. I can already feel that I will draw him (I only wish I could draw well!)

This experience was amazing and gave me so much to work with! I thanked Stephen deeply at the end of the evening. I hope to work with him again. He has some workshops coming up, but I am unable to attend them.

After this evening, it was fun to enjoy my peers’ responses and enthusiasm about what I did working with my dream image. Many shared with with me the various emotional responses they had just watching me engage in the activity. What surprised me though was how many people told me how brave I was for volunteering. I’ve come explain it wasn’t bravery but curiosity that motivated me. Also, fish was really the one that raised my and and got me up there!

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.

The Archetype of Initiation

Posted on by under Mythology, Pop Culture, Psychology

On Wednesday evening, I had the pleasure of visiting the C.G. Jung Institute of Los Angeles for the program Changing Women: Female Initiation for Our Time presented by Jennifer Koster. She discussed the archetype of initiation, looking specifically at this process for women, and drawing examples from the films Black Swan and Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland.  (Note: spoilers for Black Swan included below).

Jennifer began the night by providing working definitions of ritual and initiation, terms that have a lot of depth. In her definition of ritual, she included the following elements: pure experience, culturally related, a universal cultural element, any sacred or secular event. She aptly concluded that ritual is so “expansive and omnipresent” that is is difficult to define. She defined initiation, in a broad sense, as the move from immaturity into adulthood. She drew on Bruce Lincoln’s text Emerging from the Chrysalis, summarizing four types of women’s initiation rites he discusses: body mutilation, identification with the mythic heroine, a cosmic journey, and the play of opposites.

Jennifer also discussed the difference between male and female initiation. While drawing on examples from Arnold van Gennep’s text The Rites of Passage, she reminded us that the majority of life consists of transitions. Traditionally, the male would go out into the world and take on a new role, while the female would turn inwards for initiation. Historically, the male initiation typically led to liminality, while the female initiation typically led to metamorphoses. In our modern time, however, women can change more outwardly and men can change more inwardly. Jennifer acknowledged that Jungians have long known that feminine doesn’t belong only to female and the masculine doesn’t belong to only male; the rest of the world is finally starting to catch up with us.

In the process of initiation, something has to be let go. Reflecting on Joseph Henderson’s text Thresholds of Initiation, Jennifer told us that the initiation archetype contains something that is forgotten and rediscovered. She drew an example from her own life, indicating that if she just writes from notes and quotations she’s jotted down, it becomes dry. Instead she has to step away from the source material, forget it, and then rediscover it as she writes from heart. What a beautiful example! Jennifer reminded us that it is painful to let go of what you thought you knew about life; initiation does feel like a loss, but it is a gaining. And even though you have to let go of that old self, it is still there with you. An audience member asked Jennifer, “What about when it’s not a choice??” to which she responded that the lack of choice is part of the initiation archetype. Furthermore, “you don’t get to be done with it until you’re done with it.”

Change does take time, as Jennifer emphasized several times, and can be imagined as a dance between the known and unknown. With life being filled with a constant cycle of change, this archetype of initiation is very powerful. Jennifer reminded us that the archetype does need to be relevant to the specific person, in her specific time, in her specific place. If the archetype doesn’t connect with the person, it won’t have any effect. Also, if you’re not ready for the change, it probably won’t stick. She also conveyed that initiation is deeply tied to the body and the eternal. The body holds a lot of life experience, and it is through our body that we connect to our soul.  What’s so great about the archetype is that it reminds us that we have gone through change before and survived and can do so again.

In the final part of her lecture, Jennifer discussed cinema as a psychological medium and showed clips from Alice in Wonderland and Black Swan . We saw Alice falling down the rabbit hole and Nina’s dream in the opening scene. Alice seems to be going an adventure while Nina’s encounter contains a dark force making her change. It’s clear from the beginning that they are on different types of initiation. Alice encounters identification with the mythic heroine while Nina faces a cosmic journey. Both girls come to question their identity: Alice is literally questioned by the caterpillar while Nina is pushed by the director to show more of her Black Swan side when he forces a kiss on her.(In discussing Nina’s quest for perfection, Jennifer mentioned Marion Woodman’s text Addiction to Perfection. Lots of books to add to my “must read” list!) Ultimately, Nina’s journey is darker as she is more at odds with the person she is becoming than Alice is. The White Queen makes it clear to Alice that she has a choice about fighting the Jabberwocky while Nina’s mom locks her in her room forcing Nina to fiercely stand up for herself. In a way, Alice’s initiation is more cheerful and empowering, while Nina’s is related to death and transformation. This led to a the positing of an  important question that comes up at the end of Black Swan: has Nina died symbolically or literally?

In her concluding remarks, Jennifer reminded us that these women are the dreams of men, with both films produced by men, and Alice in Wonderland initially written by a man. She opened up the question of what happens if we look at the film as a dream of the collective. After all, films are always collaborative. And then we can also consider how we respond to the images from film as a group. She left us with great ideas to chew on! I heard several people comment afterwards that the lecture was just too short!!  We could have easily spent a whole day exploring just these two films.  At the very least now, I want to rewatch both films from this archetypal perspective.  Thank you, Jennifer, for opening my mind to even more ideas from the spring of depth psychology.

On a final note, I would like to add that in the scene where Natalie Portman stabs herself, she screams out, “It’s my turn!” and she takes on the red eyes of the black swan. I couldn’t help but think of River Tam in Serenity, shouting the same line to Simon. Here, River is ready to fight in defense of her brother. Nina is prepared to fight for herself. Both women have undergone a transformation, but River’s is certainly more empowering and selfless. I just find it interesting that they use the same line. Perhaps something I will explore down the road.

Studying Mythology

Posted on by under Grad School, Mythology, Psychology

I often get asked what I study. Mythological Studies with an Emphasis in Depth Psychology. Then I get asked again. What?

Myth. Mythology. Loaded words. Often with the terrible connotation of falsehoods.

Depth Psychology. An uncommon term out of the psych world. Mention Freud and people think you’re studying phallic imagery and Freudian slips. Mention Jung and my own students have not even heard of him (gasp!).

I think my friend Priscilla sums up our PhD program best on her website: “a high fallootin’ way to say that I’m studying the Humanities with an emphasis on cultural narrative and archetypal symbolism flavored with psychological theory.”

I plan to write some posts in the near future on my definition of myth and on an exploration of the various definitions available for depth psychology. To quote my instructor Christine Downing, “It’s impossible to define myth, but cowardly not to try.”

Today I want to write a little bit about why I study myth. Last night I went through all my notations and highlights from Ginette Paris’ book Wisdom of the Psyche, which I read last week. This book really had a profound effect on me. I think it’s going to influence all my work, personal and professional, in a manner close to that of Joseph Campbell‘s Hero with a Thousand Faces.

There’s one quote in particular from the text that I keep turning back to, and I think it really shows why I study myth, why I am so drawn to it:

“One needs to turn to the humanities to understand images that come out of the suffering of the soul” (Paris 34, 35).

I can hear Campbell’s voice echoing here, and I think of some of my favorite quotes from his book Pathways to Bliss:

“Life is a horrendous presence, and you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that. The first function of a mythological order has been to reconcile consciousness to this fact” (3).

He tells us simply:

“All life stinks, and you must embrace that with compassion” (77).

When I was introduced to Joseph Campbell in my undergraduate studies, I was just learning to live with an injury that has left me with chronic pain. The short story is that I suffered nerve damage in my rib in addition to some fractured cartilage (which cannot be reset). This ultimately means that my nerves misfire, leading to an unnecessary signal of pain to the brain. I say unnecessary because pain serves the function of letting us know something is wrong and needs our attention. Chronic pain, on the other hand, is like a signal that won’t stop (think of Russo’s looped message on LOST!) but is no longer needed. So how does this affect me? Anytime I do anything that involves my core (which is pretty much anything aside from sitting), I am at risk of aggravating it. Also, since it misfires, I’m even at risk of pain when I’m sitting. This is particularly distressing for me because I used to be an athlete. Though I am greatly blessed and deeply thankful that my injury is not as bad as it was when I was injured nearly a decade ago (at the time I had to quit work and was barely able to finish college), I am still limited, and it is still something I am dealing with and honestly always continuing to process and re-process both physically and mentally. (And a a part of this process has been thirteen different doctors and specialists and countless treatments and procedures, something which itself has a draining affect on a person). And that’s where myth and the study of myth comes in for me. Joseph Campbell’s Hero with a Thousand Faces was the first thing that took me out of my uneasy, worried, distraught mental space. It opened my mind to a whole world. To come back to Ginette Paris,

“A richness of imagination is the best cure against despair. Perhaps the most important question for the survival of the psyche is: Who shall I be, until I die? I have to imagine something, an interesting myth of some sort” (196).

Myth speaks the language of the psyche, and it is a beautiful place to go to for healing the psyche. Myth allowed me to find a new path, personally and professionally. It is a place I am continually exploring for mental and spiritual healing. Furthermore, though I was working on my undergraduate degree before the injury, I had no intentions of remaining in the academic world. I never imagined I would be a teacher or work on a doctorate degree. I followed Campbell’s infamous words of following your bliss, which started in literature, and spread into mythology. Because of my career in academia, as a currently life-long student and now teacher, I have not let my injury define me. I have claimed my success in spite of it.

Despite my background in English and my profession as an English teacher, putting all these ideas into words is actually rather difficult for me, and this may be a rather disjointed post, but it comes from the heart. But, afterall,

“My friend Heinrich Zimmer used to say the best thing can’t be said . . . The second best are misunderstood. That’s because the second best are using the objects of time and space to refer to transcendence. And they are always misunderstood . . . The third best: that’s conversation. We’re using the third best in order to talk about the first and second best” (The Hero‘s Journey, 41).

I believe in the power of words, but I also know there is much they cannot capture. In blogging, I’m attempting a conversation with people. I don’t have a lot of readers, but this leads me to deeply treasure the ones I have. Also, it’s okay that I don’t have a lot of readers (it is about quality, not quantity, after all). And, all this writing is simply for me as well, helping me process the steps I make in my studies. Because of my very nature, I actually can’t not write.

I do want to add that I’m not writing because I think I’m the world’s most brilliant academic and because I think I will enlighten and change you all. Not nearly. This is not self-aggrandizement, not by a long shot. And I hope I’m never read that way. I write to connect, to share, because I think things are richer when they are shared. Because “the psyche is inherently mitmenschlich [inter-personal]” (James Hillman, Healing Fiction 106). Furthermore, as Hillman also asserts, the soul wants community. And I am finding a very rich community online, which includes the people I know in “real life.” The PhD program I am a part of is a commuter school. Most of us live in different states! We get to see each other once a month for three days (with the exception of our upcoming five day summer session), and then we’re on our own again to read and process all the great texts being dumped into our laps. I miss that sense of campus community I was fortunate to have in my MA program, and find that online is a great substitute. So, today I’ve invited you all in and shown you a little more today about me, my past, and how I came to find mythology and the study of mythology so powerful and, quite frankly, so damn important.

I’ll leave you with one final thought from Ginette Paris:

“No explanation can reveal the mystery of human consciousness, no theory can ‘explain’ the relationship with oneself and with others as no theory ever could explain love. No living person can fully explain oneself to oneself, not to another, any more than we can explain why music moves us. Still, we can all develop an appreciation of music and the arts [and mythology!]. Similarly, an appreciation for the richness and depth of the psyche can be developed, an immense enrichment in the quality of life.”

Healing Fiction

Posted on by under Books, Grad School, Psychology

Healing FictionHealing Fiction by James Hillman

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Fascinating read! Hillman’s book contains three parts primarily addressing Freud, Jung, and Adler.

I think I was most fascinated by the first section because it contained a concept new for me. Though I’ve got a good handle on Freud himself, Hillman takes us specifically into examining case history and what Freud brought to it. Ultimately, case history itself serves as a type fiction: the person telling the story of their experience(s) is presenting a fiction, their interpretation and memory of the events; the analyst is then recording that story, with his/her (un)conscious interpretation of the events. Fascinating perspective. And, it leads us to the underlining theme of the whole text: why do our souls want this healing fiction??

In the second section, Hillman works with ideas of Jung, images, and Knowing Thyself. Just coming out of my Jungian course and really being fascinated by so much of his work, I soaked up this section. Hillman leads us into the use of active imagination and discussing healing, something of deep interest to me for my possible dissertation topic.

In the third and final section, Hillman looks at Alder and what the soul wants. The focus here lies on inferiority and community, and then leads to Hillman’s final conclusion on what the soul wants. He concludes that, despite that various answers he’s given through out, this is the key: we don’t need to know WHAT the soul wants but THAT it wants. And this is something psychotherapy can deliver.

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