PSYCHOTHERAPY IN A MYTHIC KEY: THE LEGACY OF CARL GUSTAV JUNG
Stanley Krippner and David Feinstein
Exploring the inner forces that were keeping him from cooperating with the goddess, Carl was brought, through age regression, back to experiences of being ridiculed for crying in public school and humiliated by his parents for having thrown temper tantrums. He remembered in his body how he had learned to fight feelings of fear, anger and emotional pain by tightening his jaw, controlling his breathing, and focusing on something he could do, if not to improve the situation, at least to take his attention away from his feelings. He was encouraged to write a fairy tale to portray this history, and he wrote a story about the primitive warrior he saw in the fantasy in which the goddess first appeared. Born, like all children, an innocent, he was effectively and efficiently trained to kill his fears and focus his desires and passions into cunning action. His proficiency with these abilities brought him great success. He was treated with awe and respect by his family and by the other villagers. But one day the gods proclaimed that there could be no more fighting among people. Giant volcanos would erupt all over the world, causing great tidal waves that would wipe out all of humanity, and this holocaust might be ignited by the swing of a single war ax or the tossing of a spear. He believed these reports to be false legends spread by the Evil Empire of the East, but his countrymen believed them and he was forced to destroy his weapons. Dejected, he could no longer be a warrior, and for the first time in his courage-studded adult life, he felt empty and afraid.
Carl's story allegorically portrays both his own upbringing and the way the old models were losing their viability in an age of nuclear weapons and radically new rules for living. But, as he was later instructed, this tale is but Chapter 1 of a 3-part fairy tale. Chapter 2 is designed to explore an emerging counter-myth, and in writing it, Carl had the goddess visit the warrior. In his story, the goddess transported the warrior into an enchanted land where men are so fully open to their hearts that all of life is injected with a loving tint that dissolves fear and greed and anger and makes living a joy. As Carl marveled about the miracle of transformed consciousness that would be needed to cause the world to be so altered, he was told to observe this world carefully for he would soon have to return to his village and bring with him all that he had learned. So ended Chapter 2.
Third Stage: Conceiving a Unifying Mythic Vision . Once both sides of the mythological conflict have been differentiated, the third stage involves integrating the old myth and the counter-myth into a higher order. Promoting such resolution of psychological conflict is a natural function of the psyche, but actively participating in the process can facilitate 1) better life choices at a time when the person is particularly vulnerable to act out unconscious conflict in self-destructive ways, 2) a more rapid resolution of painful inner discord, 3) a greater sense of personal mastery, and ultimately 4) a resolution of the mythological conflict that is based on carefully examined beliefs and values as well as the person's deepest intuitive wisdom. The task in this stage is to skillfully mediate and facilitate as the opposing myths push toward a natural synthesis. Having embraced both sides of the conflict, images of integration become more possible. The individual is taught to recognize that facing one's own inconsistencies without a retreat into the old or a flight into the emerging may be as difficult as it is desirable. The objective here is to foster a new mythic image that transcends the old myth and the counter-myth, while embodying the most functional aspects of each. This process represents the self-regulatory attempts of the deepest and most numinous part of the psyche, referred to by Jung as the "Self," which represents a union of opposites, a supraordinate personality that attempts to grow toward wholeness, i.e., to "individuate." Jung (1973) once wrote a friend that one must not linger on the steps of life because the last steps are the loveliest and most precious.
Carl orchestrated a dialogue between his inner warrior and his inner goddess. He physically assumed the posture of each as they carried out, at first a heated debate, and, after several sittings, a discussion of their differences. This excerpt is from the middle part of their deliberations:
GODDESS: Look at yourself. Look at how stiff and joyless you have become. I could give you new life. I'm soft and juicy; you're hard and dry. But you don't trust me at all, do you?
WARRIOR: Why should I trust you? After all, you're just another part of Carl's mind, just like me. I'm not at all certain that you could make me any juicier. And your demand for large pockets of time in which I take my attention off my regular duties to focus on my body and on images of you, all of which would make me feel very vulnerable, is a large ransom for questionable promises of greater happiness.
GODDESS. It's not a ransom. If you will simply slow your pace, tune into your feelings, and keep exploring my image, you will feel juicier. I guarantee it. It won't be as dramatic at first as you would like. And it will probably never be all you are hoping for. But you will feel juicier. Do you have any better offers going than that?
The discussion ended with the warrior reluctantly agreeing to direct his energies in the softer ways that the goddess was inviting. The goddess expressed pleasure in his decision, but skepticism about his ability to wrest his mind away from its traditional ways. The warrior said, "We'll see," and they parted. In another ritual, Carl imagined that the energies of the warrior were on one side of his body and the energies of the goddess on the other. Through a series of processes he was shown how to mingle the energies in his body and then find a new image that incorporated the essential qualities of each: "Suddenly there was an image of a man and a woman riding together on an open wagon. Two horses were pulling them. It was all very peaceful, a scene from out of the old West. I had a strong sensing that the horses represented my emotions, and there were some situations where they needed to be governed or reigned by the man, the male aspect of my personality, and others where they needed to be governed according to the rules by which the goddess was suggesting I live."
Fourth Stage: Refining the Vision into a Commitment toward a Renewed Mythology . In the fourth stage, the person is called upon to examine the new mythic vision that was synthesized from the processes described above and to refine it to the point where a commitment to that vision may be maturely entered. While it is necessary to allow the natural dialectic between the old myth and the counter-myth to take its course, a time does come when consciously identifying with a judiciously cultivated mythic image both shapes and hastens the resolution. As the old adage has it, "If you don't change your direction, you may wind up where you are headed." Challenging the person to formulate an explicit choice at this point exercises an active participation in the evolution of the guiding mythology and leads to an enhanced sense of mastery in that process. A series of personal rituals is introduced in this stage which induce altered states of consciousness for accessing deeper sources of awareness to examine and refashion the newly formed mythic image.
During a "vision quest," a 3-day solitary wilderness experience in the Northern California redwoods, Carl chose as his "power object" a tree that guarded the entrance to a glen and seemed to have "a wisdom I could not fathom." Lying at the trunk of the tree and looking skyward at its immense proportions, Carl carefully attuned himself to hear what the tree had to tell him. He felt that he received in images and intuition an entire rendition of history, reflections from this "ageless giant of the forest" on humanity's evolution and his place in it. Later, in his journal, he put into words the essence of what the tree seemed to be conveying:
I have silently watched humanity's struggle through the centuries. So much of the Paradise I love has been destroyed in your great experiment, your leap from your roots so that you might walk, your leap out of total harmony with the old laws of nature and into the painful situation where you are co-creating the laws at the same time you are living by them.
Even in your brief lifetime, the laws governing the human story have again changed. The warrior, one of the most sophisticated though most terrible forms you have created, cannot protect his loved ones from nuclear bombs. The disciplines of mind over feelings, action over patience, and suspicion over trust, like the way of the warrior, no longer keep you on a path that will lead to a future for your children.
Another law has changed. You are a man. Your biological objective is to produce offspring. For aeons of evolution, the best reproductive strategy for the great apes has been for the strongest males to impregnate as many reproductively desirable females as possible. Not so for humans. Your technology has given you unbalanced advantage so Earth is overpopulated with your species. The need is not for more humans but for more humane humans. This means humans that come from partnerships of equals, both committed to the needs of the family they are creating, and of one another. It is no longer evolutionarily advantageous to be spreading your seed to every reproductively desirable female who would have you, however much you may still be wired for that response. Your new role in co-creation is to direct that response to eroticize a lifelong partnership, where your age old marriage ceremony promising that two shall become one creates a new form of two souls embracing in their fullness. However much your impulses may keep your energies divided from truly engaging this objective, it is the highest objective, and it is up to you to work out the details.
Another ritual Carl found instructive was to create Chapter 3 of his fairy tale. The warrior was required to return to the village, and Chapter 3, following the motif of the classic hero's journey, is a chronicle of the practical steps the warrior takes to bring back home the insights he gained during his enchanted journey in Chapter 2. The warrior directed his finely honed battlefield disciplines toward developing the new qualities required of him: patience, trust and vulnerability. He opened his heart to his wife in new ways, and his physical passions were drawn toward her. By watching his warrior "work out the details" in the fairy tale, such as when he rephrased the complaints of an angry merchant instead of killing him, Carl gained concrete images that would help him create his own personal rites of passage.
Fifth Stage: Weaving the Renewed Mythology into Daily Life . To prevent individuation from ending up as ego-centeredness, Jung stressed the importance of interacting with the world-at-large. The final stage of the model requires clients to become practical and vigilant monitors of their commitment to achieve a harmony between daily life and the renewed guiding mythology they have been formulating. The threads of the new myth now need to be woven into everyday behaviors, thoughts, and actions. The essence of our 5-stage model is conveyed in an old Hassidic saying that counsels: "We should each carefully observe what way our heart draws us and then choose that way with all our strength." The first four stages are a way of carefully observing what way the heart beckons. By advising that people choose that way with all their strength, the proverb recognizes that old behavioral patterns, conditioning, and character armoring which were associated with the old myth will tend to persist. Choosing the way one's heart beckons with all one's strength is the fifth stage. Focused attention is required for anchoring even an inspiring new myth that has been wisely formulated. In this phase, we draw particularly from the cognitive and behavioral therapies -- using techniques such as behavior rehearsal, visualization, and the monitoring of sub-vocalizations -- in assisting people to integrate the new mythology into their lives.
One of the most effective ongoing tools for Carl was a daily ritual. He spent the first few minutes of his daily morning shower, while enjoying the warm water pounding on his back, closing his eyes, contacting the goddess, and asking her to think through his day with him, showing him where he might approach significant situations in light of her wisdom and teachings. In a technique he came upon during an exercise that helps people use "mental aikido," he used autosuggestion to program himself so that whenever he would be aroused by the sight of a pretty woman, he would draw upon the stimulation to contact his inner goddess. While the bulk of his inner work had explored a theme that was somewhat tangential to his original concern, this technique served to complete the circle by touching directly into the conflict between his marriage and his response to other women.
People move through this 5-stage process at varying rates, and the normal course involves periods of turning back to rework issues from earlier stages of the model even after embarking upon later stages. There are a number of ways of introducing this 5-stage process into a clinical setting. The clinical practice of one of the authors, for instance, is oriented toward in-depth psychodynamic psychotherapy. Early in the treatment, he introduces to clients capable of self-directed inquiry the self-help workbook that leads them through the 5-stage model via some 30 exercises, or "personal rituals," which are carried out at home. Weekly therapy sessions are informed but not governed by this task; the content of sessions is not dictated by the 5-stage model. Yet this self-study frequently catalyzes feelings and insights that become topics in the therapy. Moreover, simply having the client become familiar with the program frames the therapy within a mythological context. The workbook is completed over a few months, but the personal symbolism and constructs that emerge provide a context for ongoing work and understanding, even long after the therapy has been completed.
In summary, the 5-stage model offers a framework for therapist and client to understand and track the basic tasks that must be accomplished for mindfully transforming an area of one's mythology. We believe it is possible through this model to reliably teach people: 1) to identify outdated or otherwise dysfunctional personal myths that have been operating largely outside of their awareness, 2) to revise these guiding myths based on a balanced integration of deep intuitive sources and an informed cognitive analysis, and 3) to bring this renewed mythology to bear upon their daily lives. In addition, by coming to understand their own internal mythic processes, individuals become more adept at understanding the mythology of their culture and more able to participate skillfully in its evolution.
V. APPRAISAL AND CONCLUSIONS
The psychological exemplar of modernity was Freudian psychoanalysis with its claim, "Where id was, there ego shall be." But this "modern" worldview ignores or undervalues what postmodernists consider to be the "other." Specifically, the "other" includes the unconscious, the feminine, racial and oppressed minorities, members of other cultures, and members of other species in the natural environment. In addition, postmodern writers attempt to close the gap between the investigator and the "other," just as they attempt to close other gaps endemic to modernity, e.g., the gap between subject and object, between mind and body, between observable reality and transcendental reality, and between the scientific observer and the phenomena being observed. In their research, postmodern scientists attempt to incorporate intuition and feeling into intellectual knowing, to understand how their attitudes and research procedures become an integral part of the study itself, and to consider the ways in which the identity of a person who serves as a research participant has been socially constructed (Krippner, 1988; Lather, 1990). Through Jung's dialogue with marginalized aspects of Western culture (e.g., the feminine, the occult, fantasy, myth) and his rejection of Western cultural hegemony, he anticipated some perspectives of postmodernism. That certain aspects of Jung's work foreshadowed postmodernism is one reason it is still reaching new audiences and being used in fresh, contemporary contexts.
Although Jung's notion of a collective unconscious that consists of "archetypes" -- collective myths, symbols, and metaphors -- is one of the most controversial aspects of his work, such writers as Plato and St. Augustine had proposed similar concepts, and these ideas have continually resurfaced, albeit with different names and descriptions. When Jean Piaget (1971) writes of innate schemata, when Claude Levi-Strauss (1966) speaks of binary oppositions in cultural myths, when Noam Chomsky (1965) proposes rules for transformational grammar in linguistics, Jung's archetypes are being discussed using other vocabularies. Indeed, the "transparency and creativity" emphasized by Jung's dream theory is clearly related to the literary exposition of texts (Hobson, 1988, p. 65). These preoccupations with "essences" are at odds with those postmodernists who emphasize local phenomena particular to time and place.
Using the term "imagoes" (i.e., mythic images), Dan McAdams' (1985) research also falls into this category. He postulated that, beginning in late adolescence, "each of us constructs a self-defining narrative -- a life story that promises to...provide our lives with a sense of inner sameness and continuity" (p. 127). In one study, McAdams asked 20 men and 30 women to take the Thematic Apperception Test (TAT) and, by answering questions in a semi-structured interview, to tell their life stories. From 25 of these accounts, McAdams pieced together the imagoes that represented each person, finding that the most useful taxonomy was one grounded in the mythology of ancient Greece. "Each of the major deities...personified a distinctive set of personality traits which were repeatedly manifested in the myths and legends in which his or her behavior can be observed...We chose 12 major gods and goddesses as our models for imagoes. Taken together, the group embodies most of the idealized and personified self-images which were observed in the initial 25 cases" (p. 187).
Our model, whose origin was an attempt to integrate various psychoanalytic, cognitive, behavioral, and transpersonal trends in contemporary clinical practice, landed squarely within both Jungian and postmodern borders. In Jungian thought, polarity is the result of the differentiation required in the process of ego-development, i.e., the determination of what is "I" and what is "not I." However, the process of individuation requires a transcendence of polarity (Pruitt, 1992, pp. 51-52). In postmodern thought, many pairs of opposites and dualities can be deconstructed. The opposites are seen to interact and may even be interdependent (Levin, 1991). The dialectic which underlies the design of the personal rituals used in our approach leads to a creative synthesis or transcendence that can be appreciated from both the Jungian and the postmodern perspectives.
Jung's preoccupation with myth also has helped to inspire the refinement of personal mythology as a concept open to disciplined inquiry. Ralph Sperry (1981), for instance, worked with three male clients diagnosed as manifesting schizophreniform disorders. Using individual therapy described as "Jungian-existential," Sperry found that his clients' imagery took the form of such myths of renewal as sacral kingships, shamanic initiations, alchemical transformation, and the Greek stories of Dionysis and Orestes. The resulting mythic stories that emerged during psychotherapy appeared to indicate that the clients were reforming their basic mythological assumptions in developing a more productive and integrative existence.
In addition, Jung's suspiciousness of metaphysical language makes him a precursor of those postmodernists who have attempted to deconstruct metaphysics. Instead, Jung focused on the images and the phenomenology of the psyche, which goes hand-in-hand with many postmodern thinkers. For Jung, psyche is not only expressed in images, but psyche exists in images, both at a personal and collective level. The dismissal of the collective unconscious by "modern" psychologists stands in sharp contrast to those postmodern thinkers who, like Jung, espouse views on language, customs, imagination, etc., that are largely collective in character (Casey, 1990, p. 322). It should be noted, however, that Jung's emphasis on the universal aspects of psychological functioning places him at odds with some postmodernists. His concepts of "animus" and "anima," for instance, focus on presumed essential differences between men and women, thus -- according to certain postmodernists -- fostering and perpetuating power-based patterns of domination and exploitation (Clarke, 1993, p. 1231).
Although Jung's notion of a collective unconscious that consists of "archetypes" -- collective myths, symbols, and metaphors -- is one of the most controversial aspects of his work, such writers as Plato and St. Augustine had proposed similar concepts, and these ideas have continually resurfaced, albeit with different names and descriptions. When Jean Piaget (1971) writes of innate schemata, when Claude Levi-Strauss (1966) speaks of binary oppositions in cultural myths, when Noam Chomsky (1965) proposes rules for transformational grammar in linguistics, Jung's archetypes are being discussed using other vocabularies. Indeed, the "transparency and creativity" emphasized by Jung's dream theory is clearly related to the literary exposition of texts (Hobson, 1988, p. 65). These preoccupations with "essences" are at odds with those postmodernists who emphasize local phenomena particular to time and place.
Phillip Mengel (1992) adapted McAdams' (1985) Life Story Questionnaire for individual interviews with 40 research participants who had engaged in either group shamanistic drumming circles or in the use (six times or more) of MDMA (3, 4-Methylenedioxymethamphetamine), a drug that supposedly enhances empathic experience and self-development. Mengel used a personal mythology framework to explain the catalytic role both groups of respondents claimed their activities had played in enhancing personal development.
Michael Pieracci (1990) asked 20 people who had spent time in psychotherapy to write narratives describing their experiences. These accounts yielded over 100 instances of "archetypal" themes. Pieracci used the term "narrative myth" to refer to stories that explained one of these archetypes, finding the most typical narrative myths to focus on "the quest" or "journey," "wisdom," "acceptance," "nurturance," and "intimacy." For James Hillman (1972), the basic mythic psychotherapeutic theme is the story of Psyche and Eros, but only two of Pieracci's respondents mentioned this theme ("a soul in need of love," "a love in search of psychic understanding," p. 102). A more common theme in the psychotherapeutic narratives Pieracci analyzed was "the hero's journey," a metaphor of the psychotherapeutic process often portrayed in Jung's writings.
Pieracci used the term "ontic myth" to identify the basic beliefs that are contained in people's discourses about their reality, i.e., how one understands what is and should be in the world. For example, if someone believes, "Men are strong," this belief will impact the way he or she engages in life activities, as would another ontic myth, "Men must be strong." According to Pieracci, both are ontic myths because they reflect and express a belief about the world, even though neither expresses itself as a narrative as does, "Men must be strong because God made them that way." Pieracci thus constructed a "mythic matrix" so that personal and cultural myths would be the poles of one axis, while narrative and ontic myths would be the poles of the other axis.
Daryl Paulson (1992), conducting intensive interviews with 10 Vietnam veterans, reported that reframing their combat experiences in terms of time-dependent personal myths helped them achieve a constructive integration of these events. Paulson also reported that for many veterans, the stage in which the mythic protagonist "returns to the community" never occurred. He commented that this unfulfilled phase of the hero's journey myth holds significant implications, if they are to overcome the traumatic psychological wounds of their experiences in Vietnam.
Bruce Carpenter and Stanley Krippner (1990) explored the dreams of a Balinese artist who used them as a source of inspiration for his creative work, including his masks of Hindu deities and his woodcarvings of mythological creatures. Three of these dreams also assisted his resolution of personal conflicts, and the interplay of cultural and personal myths could be identified in this dream series. For instance, an encounter with his deceased father crossing a bamboo bridge in one of these dreams illustrated the Balinese emphasis on balance, but this cultural message was delivered in the personalized form of a revered family member. This study also supports Jung's (1959) admonition that dreams be studied as a series; many patterns and themes become evident when examining several dreams that could be missed if only a single dream were considered.
The utility of the personal mythology concept in stimulating original research, with its resulting provocative implications for psychotherapy, altered states of consciousness, and dream interpretation supports those writers who tout narrative psychotherapy as a cardinal example of postmodern therapy (O'Hara & Anderson, 1992). Narrative psychotherapy allows no "expert" to superimpose his or her mythology on a client. Instead, the therapist and client embark on a joint quest, one in which the therapist mindfully brings his or her training, experience, and mythology to each session, but uses these as points of departure for the encounter rather than a template into which each client's mythology must fit. By paving the way for a mythically informed psychotherapy, the ideas of Carl Gustav Jung have been remarkably resilient and flexible over the years, especially in the hands of therapists who see them as compasses for clients who are finding their way toward greater self-realization rather than as road maps by which each client must find his or her predetermined destination.
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