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.

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—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.

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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

Dreams, Art, and the Unconscious: A Jungian Perspective

Dreams, Art, and the Unconscious: A Jungian Perspective

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

“Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.”

– C.G. Jung

Carl Jung saw both dreams and art (including paintings and poetry) as expressions of the unconscious. Of dreams he wrote, “The dream is the small hidden door in the deepest most intimate sanctum of the soul, which opens to that primeval cosmic night that was soul long before there was conscious ego and will be soul far beyond what a conscious ego could ever reach.”

In art, as in dreaming, the unconscious is often activated. In Jung’s essay, “On the Relation of Analytical Psychology to Poetry,” he wrote of certain creative works in which “we are dealing with an event originating in the unconscious nature; with something that achieves its aim without the assistance of human consciousness, and often defies it by willfully insisting on its own form and effect.” Similar to dreams, this type of art contains “something supra-personal that transcends our understanding to the same degree that the author’s consciousness was in abeyance during the process of creation.”1

A dream or a creative work may serve as “a spontaneous self-portrayal, in symbolic form, of the actual situation in the unconscious.”2 How then can we use dreams and art to make the unconscious conscious?

Personal and collective unconscious

Jung was known for working with the dreams of his patients, but “he also encouraged his patients to paint and interpreted the paintings in certain of his articles.”2 Jung himself made a practice of drawing mandalas, believing them to be archetypal forms representing the Self. He also created the images in The Red Book.

An image from The Red Book.

Finding psychological value in creativity, Jung “placed emphasis on both process and product.”2 He believed that creating art helped mediate between the patient and their problem, allowing the person distance from their psychic condition.2 Dreams and dream work can often provide a similar perspective, serving a compensatory function that helps integrate unconscious contents.

This mediation between the conscious and unconscious often occurs at the level of the personal unconscious, where both dream work and art work can assist individuals in working through their complexes. At this subjective level, one’s interpretation of a dream or creative work is often filtered through these “core patterns of emotions, memories, perceptions, and wishes organized around a common theme.” Becoming aware of and addressing these patterns within the personal unconscious through interacting with a dream or creative work can lead one to greater wholeness.

“What is essential in a work of art is that it should rise far above the realm of personal life and speak to the spirit and heart of the poet as man to the spirit and heart of mankind.” – C.G. Jung

However, working with dreams and art can reach a deeper level of the psyche. Jung “saw dreams as having the structure of a story or play.” He noted “many parallels between dreams and myths, and said they sometimes used the same symbols to express their themes.” This archetypal content that Jung noticed in dreams is often expressed in creative works as well. He wrote, “The creative process, so far as we are able to follow it at all, consists in the unconscious activation of an archetypal image, and in elaborating and shaping this image into the finished work. By giving it shape, the artist translates it into the language of the present, and so makes it possible for us to find our way back to the deepest springs of life.”1 In accessing this archetypal content, whether through dream work or creative work, one may be able to align with a source of transpersonal understanding that exists outside of ego-consciousness.

A vast sea of meaning

The great Sufi poet Rumi wrote, “Poetry is like the boat and its meaning is like the sea.” What Rumi seems to allude to is the idea that a creative work is a world unto itself, and hints at the notion of multiple levels of meaning. The same could be said of dreams.

The actual narrative structure of the dream or text of the poem is the boat, afloat on a vast sea of possible meanings. Such meanings could include one’s personal interpretation of the dream or creative work, a friend’s interpretation of it, and an objective, archetypal interpretation. Each level of meaning is present, available for discovery based on how one interacts with the world of the dream or the creative work. This one reason why there is value in discussing dreams and art with other people—multiple perspectives on the same textual content can shed light on the different levels of meaning, providing a larger, more colorful view of the world that exists within the dream or creative work.

“Poetry is like the boat and its meaning is like the sea.” – Rumi

Working with one’s own personal unconscious or the collective unconscious through interacting with dreams and art provides an opportunity for growth and learning by “making the unconscious conscious.” All levels of meaning, whether personal or archetypal are valuable and have a place within that vast ocean, which is as wide and deep as one’s curiosity and imagination allows.

Works cited

  1. On the Relation of Analytical Psychology to Poetry. C.G. Jung.
  2. A Critical Dictionary of Jungian Analysis. Andrew Samuels, Bani Shorter, Fred Plaut.

 

Jung and the Inner World

Jung and the Inner World

(The following post was originally written for the Jung Society of Utah blog. As I was struggling with how to end this article, I randomly opened Jung’s Memories, Dreams, Reflections and came across his quote about the importance of the outer world. It was a nice synchronicity.)

“This inner world is truly infinite, in no way poorer than the outer one. Man lives in two worlds.”
– C.G. Jung

In Carl Jung’s memoir, he wrote of experiencing an “other,” inner reality, in addition to the outer world. He believed in balancing identification with the external world by having inner experiences of the psyche, writing, “I can understand myself only in the light of these inner happenings.” But what does this mean? How did Jung connect to this inner world?

Reality of PsycheThe Reality of the Psyche

Jung wrote: “What most people overlook or seem unable to understand is the fact that I regard the psyche as real.” He defined the psyche as “the totality of all psychic processes, conscious as well as unconscious,” and considered it a “self regulating system, just as the body is,” with a structure that is accessible through empirical methods.

Jung considered himself “first and foremost an empiricist.” He stated that, “the ‘reality of the psyche’ is my working hypothesis, and my principal activity consists in collecting factual material to describe and explain it.” In order to collect this material, Jung paid attention to things that seemed to be expressions of the psyche. This information included dreams, daydreams, fantasy, and things in the outer world that seemed to reflect internal situations. He later developed a technique called active imagination in order to further explore the inner world.

Dreams

Dream treeJung believed that dreams originate in the unconscious, and could provide information about conscious and unconscious mental processes. He said, “The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost and most secret recesses of the psyche…in dreams we put on the likeness of that more universal, truer, more eternal man dwelling in the darkness of primordial night.”

Lucid dreams may offer an even more powerful way to access the inner world. Dream expert Robert Waggoner says that lucid dreaming feels “like you have become an inner astronaut, exploring the inner space of dreaming.” He notes, “the lucid dream environment often looks, feels, and sounds just as you would expect in the waking world.” Through his years of experience with this inner realm, he has found that “the exploration of the psyche holds many of the same lessons for all lucid dreamers.”

Active Imagination

Jung shared the belief that there were lessons to be found in the inner world, and that it held information that was outside of his conscious awareness. He developed a technique he called active imagination as a way to consciously dialogue with the unconscious. Jung found that he was able to access “those contents of the unconscious which lie, as it were, immediately below the threshold of consciousness and, when intensified, are the most likely to erupt spontaneously into the conscious mind.”

Jung called active imagination “the royal road to the unconscious,” and made extensive use of it in his explorations of the inner world. As he did so, he kept a careful clinical record of his observations, compiled into what is now known as The Red Book.

Two Worlds

Two worldsWhile Jung found inspiration in the inner world, he also valued the grounding and stability offered by the outer world, appreciating the balance it brought to his life: “When I was working on the fantasies…it was most essential for me to have…a counterpoise to that strange inner world. My family and my profession remained the base to which I could always return, reassuring me that I was an actually existing, ordinary person.”

As Jung found, interacting with the inner world can be a fascinating and rewarding experience. We can do the same by paying attention to dreams and daydreams, noticing what we imagine when our mind wanders, and being aware of synchronicities. What message might the inner world have to offer you?