Diane Hamilton on the Creative Play of Opposites

Diane Hamilton on the Creative Play of Opposites

It was lovely to interview Diane Hamilton for the Jung Society of Utah blog, where this post originally appeared.

Diane Musho Hamilton is a gifted mediator, facilitator, and teacher of Zen and Integral Spirituality. In her late 20s and early 30s, she trained to become a professional mediator. “My professional life was really structured around working with people in conflict. Whenever you are working conflicts, you’re encounter sets of polarities. Resolving conflict has to do with seeing how a polarity or set of opposites, actually contains commonalities and common interests. The mediator’s job is to help find them so that people are no longer in that opposition to each other.”

Join the Jung Society of Utah on Friday, September 14th for a special evening with Diane Hamilton on “The Creative Play of Opposites.”

Through regularly experiencing the opposites in people in conflict, she began to look at the oppositions within herself. For example, “I could see a side of myself that was more receptive and a side of myself that was more active and catalytic. Of course, I preferred one side to the other, as we often do. But over time, I began to recognize that opposites have both up and down sides, and I tried to see both.” According to Diane, practicing with polarities creates a flexibility in the mind.

With that kind of flexibility, we can start to being open to the kind of feedback that we get from the world around us. We aren’t so attached to our ideas of good and bad, particularly in ourselves. This leads to much more relaxation in our self-image, and we can, maybe for the first time, hear what works for people and what doesn’t. Diane recalled one of her meditation teachers saying, “Be yourself, the world will give you feedback.” She believes that we are in an enormous feedback loop with reality, and if we want to open our hearts to include more of what is true rather than less of what is true, polarity work can be a practice in compassion.

Acknowledging and working with our shadow aspects can create more compassion for ourselves and others.

This compassion begins with ourselves, in making room for the parts of ourselves that we might prefer not to identify with. “There is the Jungian idea that everything that is ‘out there’ is also ‘in here’, Diane said. “To the extent that we really know what is ‘in here,’ we can better work with what’s ‘out there.’” This includes working with our shadow, or “the parts of our identity that we don’t want to bring into the light, as Jung would put it.” These shadow aspects “that we don’t want to see as “I” are very rich and important parts of identity to bring forward,” Diane said. “This way, “We don’t get stuck seeing only ourselves idealized or good or always seeing the upside of ourselves.”

Jung himself engaged in a deep process of inner work. “He got very interested in the operations of the unconscious, and the Red Book was really Jung’s brave investigation into the unsavory parts of his mind.” Diane said. “Once Jung saw the creative capacity of his dark side, he realized it was basically endless, and the mind itself would always be spinning these possibilities.” Jung found that “the mind in its very structure creates opposites–you and me, this and that, here and there—that’s the way our mind works.” At that point, he was introduced to a Taoist book called, The Secret of the Golden Flower, where he relinquished the content of mind into the pure light of his own awareness.

Shadow work involves owning parts of ourselves we’d rather not identify with, and meditation introduces us to the part of ourselves that is beyond identity altogether. Diane said. “So, it’s both a matter of looking into our identity and including more, which creates compassion and creates more flexibility in the mind, and also seeing that all identity, at one level, is just completely fabricated. Identity is something we can always look at, play with, and drop as much as possible.”

To illustrate this point, she shared the following poem by Hafiz:

I
Have
Learned
So much from God
That I can no longer
Call
Myself

A Christian, a Hindu, a Muslim,
a Buddhist, a Jew.

The Truth has shared so much of Itself
With me

That I can no longer call myself
A man, a woman, an angel,
Or even a pure
Soul.

Love has
Befriended Hafiz so completely
It has turned to ash
And freed
Me

Of every concept and image
my mind has ever known.

“Identity itself has a zero point,” Diane said. “However, we tend to be enculturated into our egocentric identity, our ethnocentric identity, our world-centric identity, but those identities are actually creative and shifting all the time. They are not solid, but we tend to relate to them that way. The zero point, beyond opposites and identity, can be reached through spiritual practices such as sitting meditation.  As long as there are opposites in the mind, there is tension in the body. Without those opposites, there’s peace,” Diane said. “Stillness and silence open up a domain in which the mind is empty, and as the Tibetans like to say, luminous and blissful. It’s simply about discovering the peacefulness beyond opposites, which sitting meditation supports. That’s why Zen has been so important to me.”

Spiritual practices, such as meditation, can help us find an inner stillness beyond polarities.

As part of her program, Diane plans to include a group exercise in exploring opposites. “I’m hoping both to share some information, to provide an experience of the opposites, and help people touch into that zero point, so they can have an embodied experience of what I’m talking about. So, a little bit of theory, a little bit of experience, a little bit of reflection.”

Experiencing that zero point of stillness and peace allows for a more heart-centered life. “Part of Zen practice and Jung’s work is about creating a heart and a mind that can include the opposites of this existence,” Diane said. “What’s is so important about spiritual practice and psychological work is that they create an opening to include more of our experience. But we begin to see that the mind doesn’t seem to handle those opposites very well, but the heart does. The heart’s job is to be able to include the things in life that we don’t want to include. That is what we mean by being whole-hearted.”

Don’t miss this illuminating evening with Diane Hamilton!

Date: Friday, September 14th
Time: 7:00-8:30pm (mingle time before and after, doors open at 6:15)
Location: Saltair Room, University of Utah
Cost: free (please become a member)
Includes 1 free CE

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A Jungian Perspective on Death

A Jungian Perspective on Death

This post originally appeared on the Jung Society of Utah blog.

Ironic, but one of the most intimate acts of our body is death.
So beautiful appeared my death—knowing who then I would kiss,
I died a thousand times before I died.

“Die before you die,” said the Prophet Muhammad.
Have wings that feared ever touched the Sun?
I was born when all I once feared—I could love.
~ Rabia Al Basri, Sufi poet

Carl Jung wrote, “When death confronts us, life always seems like a downward flow or like a clock that has been wound up and whose eventual “running down” is taken for granted.”1 In the year that has passed since my father’s death, I’ve experienced this sense of the clock running down. He was 67 years old, 30 years older than me, and the idea that half of my life might be over gave me pause about how I was spending my days. Along these lines, Jung continued:

When an aging person secretly shudders and is even mortally afraid at the thought that his reasonable expectation of life now amounts to only so many years, then we are painfully reminded of certain feelings within our own breast; we look away and turn the conversation to some other topic.1

Of this hesitancy to look at death, poet John O’Donohue wrote, “Though death is the most powerful and ultimate experience in one’s life, our culture goes to great pains to deny its presence…the rhythm of death in life is rarely acknowledged.”2 However, acknowledging, accepting, and even developing a relationship with death can help one to live a fuller, more vibrant life.

Jung suggested that the psyche might have a continued existence beyond death, “that it isn’t entirely confined to space and time…to that extent, the psyche is not submitted to those laws and that means a practical continuation of life, of a sort of psychical existence beyond time and space.”3 However, despite any hints about an afterlife, death remains a mystery. In order to cope with that mystery, Jung wrote that a person “ought to have a myth about death, for reason shows him nothing but the dark pit into which he is descending.”4 Jung viewed death as “an archetype, rich in secret life, which seeks to add itself to our own individual life in order to make it whole.”4 From this perspective, “symbols and images of death may be understood in terms of their significance and meaning for life, while experiences and intimations of life need to be construed as leading towards death.”5 Seen this way, life and death become companions, and equal parts of a complete human existence.

Accepting death as a part of life can help a person to cope with various forms of transition. “Life is an ocean with rising and falling tides. This means death is always implicit in it.”6 From this perspective, all changes in life can be seen as small deaths along the way, and turning toward the element of death that is inherent in all transitions can provide a means of overcoming fear. “To continually transfigure the faces of your own death ensures that, at the end of life, your physical death will be no stranger, robbing you against your will of the life that you have had.”2 Becoming familiar with death as a part of life can transform this archetype from a frightening adversary to a guide who can help one find courage in walking their individual path:

Death is the only wise advisor that we have. Whenever you feel, as you always do, that everything is going wrong and you’re about to be annihilated, turn to your death and ask if that is so. Your death will tell you that you’re wrong; that nothing really matters outside its touch. Your death will tell you, ‘I haven’t touched you yet.’7

The freedom and peace that come from creating a relationship with death can open the way for new possibilities, as well as greater self-expression and authenticity. “Masquerading behind the face of your physical death is the image and presence of your deepest self, which is waiting to embrace and meet you.”2 Released from the fear of death, one is able to live a fuller life and pursue their highest potential. Jungian analyst Erel Shalit spoke of life as being like a candle—the candle will never live out its purpose if it is not lit. “Only a candle you don’t like will never burn out. To live your life fully means that the candle will burn out.”8 Creating a relationship with death can provide the courage needed to light the candle.

Far from being the frightening monster it is often portrayed as in Western culture; the archetype of death can be a friend and a guide. “If you learn not to be afraid of your death, then you realize that you do not need to fear anything else either.”2 Reimagined this way, death becomes a messenger who brings many gifts, including courage, a higher perspective, increased awareness, greater authenticity, and deeper love for ourselves and others. Thus, whether or not the psyche continues to exist after death, we will be able to face death as “a meeting with a life-long friend from the deepest side of [our] own nature,”2 secure in the knowledge that our lives have been well-lived.

Works Cited

  1. Jung, C. G. “The soul and death.” In Feifel, H. (1959). The meaning of death. New York: Blakiston Division, McGraw-Hill.
  2. O’Donohue, J. (2004). Anam ċara: A book of Celtic wisdom. New York: Harper Perennial.
  3. Carl Jung speaks about Death [Video file]. (2007, June 18). Retrieved from https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LOxlZm2AU4o
  4. Jung, C. G. (1989). Memories, dreams, reflections. New York, NY: Vintage Books.
  5. Samuels, A., Shorter, B., & Plaut, F. (2005). A critical dictionary of Jungian Analysis. New York, NY: Routledge.
  6. van der Leeuw, G. “Immortality.” In Campbell, J. (1954). Papers from the Eranos yearbooks. Princeton: Princeton University Press.
  7. Castaneda, C. (1974). Journey to Ixtlan: The lessons of Don Juan. Harmondsworth: Penguin Books.
  8. “Interview with Dr. Shalit on The Cycle of Life” (2012) http://www.depthinsights.com/radio/ErelShalit-DepthInsights011212.mp4

 

Jung, Introversion, and Self-Acceptance

Jung, Introversion, and Self-Acceptance

I wrote the following post for the Jung Society of Utah blog.

“Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.”
–  C. G. Jung

While Carl Jung was mentioned briefly in my undergraduate psychology courses, my first real contact with Jung’s theories came many years after that. In 2014, I began seeing an acupuncturist for help with fatigue, depression, and anxiety. During the course of my treatment, the acupuncturist recommended that I read The Highly Sensitive Person, by psychologist Elaine Aron. According to Aron, highly sensitive people (HSPs) are the 15-20 percent of individuals in a population who have a nervous system that is more sensitive to stimulation than average.1 I strongly related to the information in the book and finally felt like my experiences of being “easily overwhelmed when you have been out in a highly stimulating environment for too long”1 made sense. This book cited Jung frequently, especially with regard to his ideas on introversion. Upon finding very little research related to the HSP trait, Aron “thought that the closest topic might be introversion. The psychiatrist Carl Jung wrote very wisely on the subject, calling it a tendency to turn inward. The work of Jung, himself an HSP, has been a major help to me.”1 The many mentions of Jung throughout the book intrigued me and I wondered if his work could be of help to me as well.

Carl Jung wrote wisely on the topic of introversion.

I began reading bits and pieces of Jung’s work that were available on the internet, along with commentary by depth oriented therapists and psychologists to provide clarity on aspects of it I was confused by. I also enjoyed watching videos and lectures about Jung on YouTube. I found that Jung’s work, especially his ideas on psychological types, helped me to understand and make peace with my own experiences, particularly those around being an intuitive introvert who never “fit in” with most of the people around me. It was absolutely my experience that “the introverted person must assume a good deal of chronic psychological stress”3 in order to adapt to an environment where extraversion is preferred. This further explained the fatigue, depression, and anxiety I had suffered from for so long. After reading Jung, I began to feel more at peace with my natural temperament and no longer felt the need to pretend to be otherwise. As I accepted myself, my physical and psychological symptoms gradually diminished. For me, Jung made being an introvert acceptable and even valuable; rather than a deficiency in my personality, which is how I had previously viewed this trait.

Reading Jung’s work helped me to turn within, make peace with myself, and begin learning to love myself.

I deepened my study of Jung by reading Memories, Dreams, Reflections. I often found myself laughing aloud as I related to Jung’s childhood experiences, particularly where he described his boredom with school: “It took up far too much time which I would rather have spent drawing battles and playing with fire. Divinity classes were unspeakably dull, and I felt a downright fear of the mathematics class.”2 In Jung, I felt I had found a kindred spirit after spending most of my life feeling lost in a deep, painful sense of aloneness.

I am grateful for the many ways Jung’s work has influenced my life for the better. Through his writing I became able to look within my own heart, wake up to who I truly am, and began to accept myself. As a result of this turning inward, I also found the sense of purpose that I had always lacked, and began the transition from an empty, dead-end career path to one I find fascinating and meaningful. I will continue to turn to Jung’s work as part of my studies to become a psychotherapist.

Books Cited

  1. The highly sensitive person: How to thrive when the world overwhelms you Elaine Aron.
  2. Memories, dreams, reflections Carl G. Jung.
  3. Jung’s map of the soul: An introduction Murray Stein.

Travel and Individuation

Travel and Individuation

I wrote this post for the Jung Society of Utah blog, based on a longer piece I authored here.

“We shall not cease from exploration and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.”

T.S. Eliot

When I return home from traveling, my house always looks different. Intellectually I know that everything is just as I left it, but after being away, the most familiar place in the world to me seems “off” in some way, not how I remembered it. Maybe the shade of paint in the bedroom looks brighter somehow, I think. Or perhaps it’s the way the light from the kitchen window filters in across the table at this hour of day, a time when I’m not usually home. But as I roll my suitcase down the hallway, there’s an overwhelming feeling of alien unfamiliarity. Then I realize it’s me. I’m the element that’s been transformed during my time away.

Carl Jung traveled extensively, and used his experiences to gain greater insight into his own life. “I understand England only when I see where I, as a Swiss, do not fit in,” he wrote. “Through my acquaintance with many Americans and my trips to and in America, I have obtained an enormous amount of insight into the European character; it has always seemed to me there can be nothing more useful for a European than some time or another to look out at Europe from the top of a skyscraper” (Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p.247).

Similarly, traveling has allowed me to meet a variety of fascinating people from diverse cultures and backgrounds. In conversation with each of these strangers, some of whom became my friends, I’ve enjoyed listening to and learning from their unique perspectives. I’ve also discovered shared interests, dreams, and goals, or common values. This has highlighted to me that we’re all very much the same at a fundamental level. All of the friends I’ve made in my travels have helped me become a more authentic version of myself in some way.

Travel has made me more honest and real. (Photo taken at a toy store in Florence, Italy).

In seeing more of the world through travel, I have also been able to step outside of my comfort zone and learn to enjoy new experiences and new people, despite my natural introversion. Successfully extending myself beyond the familiar has allowed me to feel at home even in places that seemed very different than what I’m used to. Through experiencing my adaptability in a way that I hadn’t before, I gained confidence, which has allowed me to feel safe and secure, even in troubling situations. This gave me even greater confidence and trust in myself, as I realized that I’ll always be able to navigate any situation I’m presented with.

To me, that’s what feeling at “home” is really about—being able to trust and have faith in myself and my capabilities regardless of the circumstances. If I have enough trust and faith in myself to confidently face and be present with whatever is happening right now, anywhere can feel like home.

Travel in the outer world may also guide one to inner exploration and greater wholeness.

I used to prefer thinking that it was possible to have all the answers, but travel has opened my mind to life’s mysteries. The more I experience of the world, the more I realize how much I don’t know. This is exciting because I love to learn new things—it’s become a huge part of what makes life interesting and worthwhile for me. I find peace in knowing that there will always be more to learn.

In the darkness and shadow of mystery, there is power and magic. During my time in Egypt I took a cruise down the Nile. One evening, just before sunset, the ship’s crew turned off the engines, lights, and music, and we all gathered on the top deck and waited. At dusk, the hazy gray sky burned yellow and orange as the sun sank into the glistening silver river. Away from any city lights, the palm trees and desert sand dissolved into the eerie blackness of 5,000 years ago, and it was almost as if I could feel the presence of Isis and Osiris, watching us from the riverbank. All was still and silent, but only for a few minutes. The deck lights came back on and the party resumed. Through enjoying the contrast of light and dark, knowledge and mystery, I’ve gained a greater appreciation for all the subtle forms of beauty and wonder in the world, which has heightened my creativity and intuition.

Sunset along the Nile.

Overall, travel can greatly contribute to individuation. In an article for The Guardian, journalist Jonah Lehrer writes, “We travel because we need to, because distance and difference are the secret tonic of creativity. When we get home, home is still the same. But something in our mind has been changed, and that changes everything.” I have always found that to be true.

Individuation and the Unlived Life of the Parents

Individuation and the Unlived Life of the Parents

I wrote the following post for the Jung Society of Utah blog.

“Nothing has a stronger influence psychologically on their environment and especially on their children than the unlived life of the parent.”
– C.G. Jung

My dad has always existed for me in the space between “here” and “gone.” He was always around, but only rarely has he been truly present in my life. In recent months this has been literalized as his health has taken a turn for the worst. He’s now in a nursing care facility, spending his most of his days apparently drifting in and out, only occasionally conscious or coherent, no longer who he was.

He graduated from Brigham Young University with a Bachelor’s degree in Psychology, then worked for the State of Utah for 30 years. It was always clear how much he hated his job. He was miserable and bored, and my mom, my sister, and I seemed to exist only in the shadows of his suffering. When he retired, his health started deteriorating steadily. I feel it has to do with the shadows of unlived potential manifesting as illness.

“The participation mystique, or primitive identity, causes the child to feel the conflicts of the parents and to suffer from them as if they were its own.” – C.G. Jung

I don’t know what my dad wanted to do with his psychology degree, but it occurred to me recently that he could have been an effective therapist. Seven years ago I was on a flight from Cairo to New York City that hit very bad weather. After circling the JFK airport for a tense and miserable hour, the flight was diverted to Dulles. In the midst of a panic attack (though I didn’t realize it at the time), I called my parents’ house and my dad answered. He listened to my story about the hellish flight, being trapped on the plane at Dulles for two hours before being allowed to leave and go through customs, and my fear of having to spend the night alone in the airport. He then told me to breathe, assured me that the airline was required by law to find me a flight back to Salt Lake City, and addressed my other concerns enough that I could function and get through the night. To this day, I’m still grateful for that.

“Nothing influences children more than the silent facts in the background.” – C.G. Jung

All of this played on my mind as I interviewed for the Counseling Psychology program at Pacifica Graduate Institute. On the plane back to Salt Lake City, I read the following in Robert A. Johnson’s book, Owning Your Own Shadow:

“My own father took refuge in invalidism and lived very little of his potential. As a result of this, I feel I have two lives to cope with—my own and the unlived life of my father. This is a severe burden, but it can have creative dimensions if I take on this task consciously. Such things are possible only when we are old and mature enough to know what we are doing—though we do not usually have this kind of wisdom until we reach middle age” (p.35-36).

While I don’t qualify as middle-aged quite yet, my dad is 66, still relatively young in a time and place where people can live to their 90s and beyond. I wonder now what he could still do if circumstances were different. What might he have done earlier in life that would have brought him more joy and meaning? And through my career change, am I indeed taking on my dad’s unlived potential? Does it truly matter?

I don’t have any answers, and at this point, all I can do is focus on finding joy and meaning in my own life. In doing so, I intend to fulfill my own promise and honor myself by living my life to the fullest expression of my authenticity and potential. I want to ensure that no one, especially not me, ever ends up abandoned in my shadows.

“Parental influence only becomes a moral problem in face of conditions which might have been changed by the parents, but were not.” – C.G. Jung

Regardless of whether we have children, perhaps the greatest gift we can give ourselves and those around us is to seek that which truly helps us feel happy, fulfilled and whole, bravely walking the path that leads us to the highest expression of our true selves.

Theresa Holleran on The Shadow Dance of the Feminine and Masculine

Theresa Holleran on The Shadow Dance of the Feminine and Masculine

It was lovely to interview Theresa Holleran about this topic for the Jung Society of Utah blog.

When Theresa Holleran was in her early thirties, she read the Pregnant Virgin: A Process of Psychological Transformation, and discovered the work of Jungian Analyst, Marion Woodman. Her dream world and creativity was profoundly enlivened with new images and inspirations. In her twenties she had been an activist in the Women’s Movement, and had awakened to the possibility of living her own free life, despite the gender conditioning she received from the nuns during her Catholic education. But she knew intuitively there was something more to this path of authenticity. Marion’s work illuminated the “Sacred Inner Marriage”- the realization that every man and woman, regardless of gender identity or sexual preference, could discover and fully live the Conscious Feminine and Masculine energies. This is a revelation that has framed her inner work and her clinical practice and teaching for over 30 years.

Theresa Holleran, LCSW is a depth psychotherapist with over 40 years of experience. She will share her insights on the Shadow Dance of the Feminine and Masculine with the Jung Society of Utah on March 9, 2017.

“Carl Jung believed there are opposites in the psyche that must to be integrated in order for us to fully individuate: feminine/masculine, human/divine, conscious/unconscious,” Holleran said. “They are integrated by realizing that we must “hold” this tension of opposites, resisting our tendency to deny or push away one part of the polarity. The well-lived life is going to be filled with paradoxes and contradictions,” she said. Essentially, the Conscious Feminine is our “Being-ness”, our ability to stand for and live our deepest values. The Masculine is the consort of the Feminine, our ability to “Do” and allows us to take action based on what is authentic and true for each of us. Hopefully, this dance of the Feminine and Masculine will guide us as we make the most difficult and complex decisions for ourselves and the well being of all on this planet.

Learning from our projections

“There is an innate longing in every human being to connect with “Other,” Holleran said. “Sometimes we’re longing for a lover relationship, sometimes the “Other” is that connection with the Divine, or our own creativity. Often we project god or goddess onto our romantic relationships.” She gave the example of being a young woman who often fell in love with men who were adventurous world-travelers, noting that this was an invitation to develop those adventurous qualities within herself. “These projections, whether they are positive or negative on the “Other” can be really useful if we work with them. Projections point the way to what wants to be developed or integrated within us, including those shadow aspects that we disdain.”

We can deepen our own inner marriage by working on our internal polarities and noticing what we project onto others.

Then we are free to see the reality of “Who” the other really is and make a conscious choice to stay or go. Integrating projections is hard, rigorous work, but the benefits are enormous. We not only become more empathetic toward others, we also regain the energy to live our own life. For a woman this might mean she has a right to go after and claim the life she wants, even though she may be scared out of her mind; and for a man it might mean that he has the right to be tender towards himself, to feel his own grief, to feel his own longing. We become comfortable in our own skin, and our capacity to listen deepens. One becomes so grounded in their own body and authentic truth, that they can fully take in the truth of the Other, and then discover if there is a shift in perspective. Often we try to tyrannize each other into agreement because we are afraid of loosing our own stance. The Inner Marriage provides a whole new way of listening to and receiving one another.

The Inner Marriage is represented by the caduceus, which is “the Tree of Life with the two snakes, representing the Masculine and Feminine energies moving back and forth in their own unique way,” until that final union at the end of life.

The same integration of masculine and feminine energies that supports our personal relationships can also assist us in creative work. “Artists usually create from the feminine principle of letting things emerge, being present, being in the flow,” Holleran said. “But to bring your work into the world, you have to have masculine strength.”

Curiosity and compassion

How then, can we facilitate this type of integration within ourselves? “Notice the men and women you really admire and study what it is about these people that you’re drawn to,” Holleran suggested. “Sense who they are, their being-ness, their authenticity, what they value, and their capacity to take action without polarizing.” She also noted active imagination with dream figures, mirroring oneself in a journal, and looking for information within relationship disturbances and communication difficulties as opportunities for greater integration. “Curiosity and compassion towards self and other are necessary meta-skills,” she said. “Being curious and compassionate about what you’re drawn to, and what you’re repulsed by. These observations can all be the compost for discovering more about yourself and your own inner marriage.”

The integration between such opposites as the Feminine and Masculine is necessary in order to appreciate both ends of the polarity and bring greater balance and wholeness into our lives. If we don’t bring these polarities into consciousness, they will be projected out and can become distorted, or even demonic. Look at the polarization and demonizing of “other” that is happening in our own country right now!

Her upcoming presentation will offer an opportunity for this type of inner work and creative community exploration. “Through sharing stories, laughter, wisdom, creative images and our wild and wonderful longings and disturbances, we will all discover something about how this dance of feminine and masculine lives in each of us.”

 

Don’t miss this soulful evening with Theresa Holleran!

Date: Thursday, March 9, 2017
Time: 7:00 – 9:00pm, with mingling before and after
Location: Salt Air Room at the U of U
200 S Central Campus Drive, Salt Lake City, Utah 84112
Cost: Donation appreciated, everyone welcome

Please become a member to support Jung Society of Utah events.

 

A Letter from Eros

A Letter from Eros

Dear one,

When you awoke, clear eyed, though with some of the pain not yet washed away by your tears, you asked me, “Why?” I replied, “There’s nothing like love to help you find your eros.” Then I winked and flew out the window. Your heart knew what I meant, but your mind was still confused, so I’ll explain:

I needed you to remember.

You came to your world perfect and whole, knowing your path, purpose, dharma, or contract—whatever you’d prefer to call it—and knowing that you are love. Then life happened and you forgot. You knew beforehand that this would happen, so you made an agreement with another soul—one who loves you beyond anything words can describe—that you would help each other remember that perfection, wholeness, purpose, and love. You sought my help in this as well, and as love is my domain, I was happy to oblige, even though I knew what it would feel like for you. I’ve seen it countless times, in infinite iterations across the eons, and while it’s always different, it’s also always the same.

The myths and stories paint me as mischievous and a bit of a troublemaker, which I don’t deny. But everything I do is done from a place of the purest love. So if you heard me laughing as I aimed my bow and arrow at your chest, it was only to keep from crying, because I knew what awaited you once I’d hit my mark.

screen-shot-2017-02-13-at-10-26-38-pm

And I never miss. My arrow struck you square in the heart and you fell hard in love with someone you wouldn’t have expected to. A beautiful Other, the most fascinating person you’ve ever met, Divine perfection in human form: the Beloved. Suddenly, all of myths and fairy tales became real to you. You finally understood the love the poets and singers described. Life made sense in a way that it didn’t before.

Until it all came crashing down. The Beloved ran away from you, ignored you, persisted in some other relationship, wouldn’t believe you when you told them what you felt for them, or did any number of other things that broke your heart. You felt completely rejected, and more alone than ever.

But you always knew that love was real, even when everything about the situation led you to believe otherwise. Even when you were caught up in the stories your ego spun for you, your friends’ advice to “just find someone else,” and the seemingly endless confusion over how something that seemed so right could so utterly shatter you. That even from the depths of your despair, when you asked yourself, “Why this person?” you still loved them, and they still loved you. You’ve learned that only love is real—the rest is just illusion.

You know now that I never left you. Even though you didn’t see me, I was always there: In the way you felt when you held your Beloved in your arms, in the way you felt lighter and happier any time you talked to or heard from them, in the joy and completeness you felt at finally having found the “missing piece” of your soul. In your joy, you couldn’t hear me whisper that there never was a “missing piece,” but I didn’t expect you to.

I was also there in the darkness: The nights you spent crying, the days where everything hurt so much you wanted to die, the moments you felt so lonely that life didn’t seem worth living. In your suffering, you heard me suggest that your Beloved was reflecting qualities within your own soul that you simply hadn’t claimed yet—that all of those wonderful things you love and admire in that beautiful Other are in you as well, treasures waiting for you to find them. However, you didn’t believe me. That’s ok, I didn’t expect you to. I could have appeared to you, wings unfurled, bow and arrow in hand and told you, “The Beloved is a mirror, and you are in love with your own reflection,” and it’s likely that you still would not have believed me. That’s ok. I’m patient.

I knew you would eventually seek my help, and you did. You called to me, using one of the many names I answer to, and I responded. You looked more closely at your Beloved, finally seeing in them all of those qualities you’d not yet recognized in yourself. It has been my joy to watch you claim and integrate them, to cheer you on as you’ve become the best, strongest, truest, most authentic version of yourself. This is what I needed you to do, because you’ll need that open-hearted authenticity and strength to do what you came here to do. The world needs you to live your true purpose.

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So this was your initiation—the wound where the light came in. I’m sorry that it hurt so much, but I needed you to remember.

I needed you to remember what the circumstances of your life made you forget—the passion and joy that the pressures of daily life had beaten out of you, the gifts and talents dropped by the wayside in order to conform to societal expectations—these are keys to your purpose, and the qualities you admire in your Beloved were meant to wake you up to that, to help you find all that within yourself again. My arrow to your heart was the most efficient, effective means I had to redirect you to the path you chose before you came here.

Through loving this beautiful Other, you’ve learned to love yourself—in both your light and your shadows, learning to claim all the qualities within yourself that you will need to fully live your purpose. Now that you’ve done this, do you think I would let you walk alone? Through the unconditional love you’ve learned for yourself, you’re now better able to love the Other. You’re free now to love them as you love yourself: as one who is whole and perfect even in imperfection, whose light and shadow combine to make a beautiful work of art in progress, always in motion as you create the next adventure.

Just as I never left you, neither did your Beloved. This person was and is always with you. Together, you are greater than the sum of your individual lives. Instead of two, you are three—I am and always have been the third, the holder of the tension of opposites, the transpersonal love to guide you forward on your path.

My arrow to your heart is your exit wound, freeing you from all that no longer served you, all that kept you chained to an identity that conflicted with the truth of your soul. You saw me first in your Beloved, and then in yourself. And I, Eros, am simply one aspect, or facet of the the Divine. By seeing me in your Beloved and now in yourself, you are seeing the infinite Divinity and love that is within you and all others. This is what we needed you to remember.

With love always,
Eros