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The soul cannot exist without its other side, which is always found in a "You." -- C. G. Jung

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              The Symbolic Life Archives
 
       Articles from past Newsletters on the Symbolic Life
 
 
The Deathly Hallows (Winter Solstice 2009)
 

A very compelling example of the symbolic life and especially the importance of stories can be found in the last Harry Potter book, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.  As the novel opens the conflict between the Death Eaters of Tom Riddle/Lord Voldemort and the Order of the Phoenix is escalating.  The latter are more in a survival mode since they lost their peerless leader, Albus Dumbledore, at the end of the previous book, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince (the film version was released this summer).

Curiously Dumbledore has left in his will three seemingly innocuous items, one each to Harry and his two closest friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger.  Hermione receives a copy of The Tales of Beedle the Bard.  Harry and Hermione, who were raised in muggle (non magic families), have absolutely no idea what these stories are.  Ron, however, knew the tales from his childhood in a wizard family including four older brothers and a younger sister.  But Ron is perplexed too about this bequest, as these were supposedly just stories for children with no particular significance other than entertainment.

Yet as the drama unfolds one of the tales passed on by Beedle, “The Tale of the Three Brothers,” becomes crucial in helping the three friends on their quest.  The three key elements of the tale, the Elder Wand, the Resurrection Stone, and the Cloak of Invisibility, are not just the stuff of stories, but are realities that have key significance for the all chief protagonists, Tom Riddle, Dumbledore and Harry.  The Deathly Hallows are real, and must be understood correctly. Appreciating the elements of Beedle the Bard’s story as related to the struggle now going on in the wizard world will be crucial for Harry’s eventually success.

One of the reasons that Harry succeeds is that he comes to understand the meaning of the Deathly Hallows and forming a proper relationship to them.  In The Half Blood Prince Dumbledore showed Harry pieces of Tom Riddle’s past so that Harry could understand how he and Tom were different, how they were the same, and why their lives have become so closely linked.  Harry learns where Tom Riddle is blind and what he can’t see and doesn’t know.  Harry begins to realize that he can make other choices.

In The Deathly Hallows Harry discovers more than he would like to know about Dumbledore and the tragedy in his earlier life that eventually led to his untimely death.  Years earlier the heartbreaking death of Dumbledore’s sister left him vulnerable to not seeing the potential danger in possessing the Resurrection Stone, one of the Deathly Hallows.

Myths, fairy tales and stories like those passed on by Beedle the Bard help us reflect on life, can guide us, and help hold us.  Being in a good story can carry us through difficult times, especially when we find one that speaks to our situation as Harry did.

Last year through the magic of holiday gift giving, four copies of The Tales of Beedle the Bard joined our family library.  The stories from J. K. Rowling, with new translation by Hermione Granger and commentary by Albus Dumbledore are a real treat. Rowling’s little book (proceeds go to a children’s charity) shows how a story might be reflected on to give us meaning.  Many Jungian works on myth and fairytale do the same; Marie Louise von Franz, for instance, has penned many volumes of this nature.

We at Coldwater Counseling Center hope that this season you find a good story that touches and helps carry you through moments when life is dark.  The winter solstice is a time that has, through the ages, produced tales of the light emerging out of the darkness.  In a previous newsletter we offered the tale of Raven Steals the Light, which inspired out logo.  This tale and other solstice reflections can be found on two pages of our website: Raven Steals the Light and Symbolic Life Archives.  Two delightful anthologies of such stories are The Return of the Light: Twelve Tales from Around the World for the Winter Solstice by Carolyn McVickar Edwards and Fireside Stories Tales for a Winter’s Eve by Caitlín Matthews and Helen Cann.  May you find a good story for this solstice season.

 
Virginia's Big Questions (Winter Solstice 2008)
 

            The Solstice Season is the time of year when our culture most deeply responds to the need for the symbolic life and its importance to our psychological and spiritual well being.  How we hold on to this side of reality and its importance in our life is an old question.  For instance in 1897 eight year old Virginia O’Hanlon sent a letter to the New York Sun newspaper with her concerns about the existence of Santa Claus.  “Some of my friends,” she wrote, “say there is no Santa Claus.  Papa says if you see it in THE SUN it’s so.  Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?”

            The newspaper was put on the spot, as many parents often are, since journalism is expected to report the facts of life and the truth of our daily lives.  Journalist Francis P. Church rose to the occasion, and penned this reply.

Virginia, your friends are wrong.  They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age.  They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds . . . Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.  He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to our life its highest beauty and joy.  Alas! How dreary would the world be if there were no Santa Claus!  It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias.  There would no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence.  We would have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. .  . No Santa Claus!  Thank God he lives and lives forever.  A 1,000 years from now, Virginia, nay 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

With the advent of film in the 20th century, holiday films have often taken up the call of Francis Church to echo his message.  One of the most well known is the movie Miracle on 34th Street written for the screen in 1947 and remade in 1994.  In this story it is a mother and her young daughter who carry the skepticism; a department store Santa, who claims he is the real Kris Kringle, manages to keep the disbelief at bay and the spirit and mystery of Santa alive.  The department store psychologist attempts to have his sanity questioned and he is put on trial.  His young attorney wins the case when thousands of letters pour into the courthouse addressed to Santa Claus.  If so many people are writing to him, then he must be real.

            The film Prancer that arrived in theatres in 1990 is another good example of this form of film drama.  Amidst mysterious coincidences a young girl comes to believe that a wounded reindeer she encounters is the real Prancer, whose replica had fallen from the town’s street display of Santa’s sleigh and reindeer.  Despite the doubt that surrounds her she perseveres in trying to assist Prancer so he can rejoin Santa.  Her belief rekindles the spirit of the town in a poignant way.  The story includes a touching newspaper article written by a local journalist and a moving reading of a version of “Virginia’s Big Question” by Sam Elliott, who plays the girl’s stressed and bereft father.

            In these turbulent economic and political times we’d like to encourage you to take in at least one of these forms of holiday films in which the power of the imagination is rekindled and affirmed.  If holiday fare isn’t your special cup of tea, then we’d recommend this past year’s Lars and the Real Girl as a remarkable example of the healing power of the imagination.

 
The Art of Gift Giving    (Winter Solstice 2007)
 

In his article “The Psychology of the Child Archetype” C. G. Jung wrote: “The most that we can do is to dream the myth onwards and give it a modern dress.”  Perhaps no one in our age has succeeded in doing this more than J. R. R. Tolkien in his novels The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings.  These novels are rich in symbolism and reflect numerous critical elements in the psychological journey to wholeness.  The symbolic life awakens the “childhood” of the human psyche, that place in us that resonates with the primordial images through which the human mind first made sense of the world around it.  In his more theoretical works Tolkien wrote: “Indeed only by myth making,, only by becoming a ‘sub creator’ and inventing stories, can man aspire to the state of perfection the he knew before the Fall.” Psychologically the “Fall” would represent leaving behind the wisdom of the human imagination and the symbolic language of the soul.

            Tolkien lived his theoretical beliefs by creating a moving and enduring myth.  Books are still emerging exploring the meaning of Tolkien’s work.  Each year Tolkien offered an imaginative gift to his four children by sending them letters from Father Christmas.  These engaging missives became enduring testaments to Tolkien’s effort to nurture the living imagination of his children.  They have been collected into a coffee table volume titled Letters from Father Christmas.

            The Lord of the Rings contains numerous symbols that are especially relevant to this time of year.  One theme of the season is that of gift giving.  In our culture, while it can reach manic and compulsive proportions, it can still be a uniquely creative endeavor. In the character or the Elf Queen Galadriel we see an example of gift giving in its most relevant and timely form.

            When the Fellowship of the Ring arrives in her home of Lothlorien, she perceives the deepest desires of each member’s heart.  As a symbol of the anima archetype par excellence, she understands what lies in each man’s unconscious.  She leads two of the Hobbit members, Frodo and Sam, to her special “mirror,” whereby she pours water from a stream into a silver basin into which they each can gaze.  As if in a dream, Frodo and Sam can see glimpses of the past, present, and future.  Later Galadriel will give each of them a gift most relevant to what they have seen, though they do not realize it at the time.

            To Frodo, the Ring-bearer, she gives a small crystal phial in which is contained the light of Earendil’s star, a mythic reality of an earlier age.  She tells him that it will shine bright when night is about him.  “May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”  Later the remembrance of this phial by Frodo and his faithful companion Sam is critical to their quest. Indeed, when they use it Sam realizes that they are actually a part of an ongoing myth, the old stories continue to live, and they are carrying them forward

            Part of what Sam saw in the mirror was the destruction of trees in his pastoral home, the Shire.  He desired immediately to return home to make things right, but if he did, Galadriel warned, if he turned from his appointed path, what he saw might come to fruition.  Sam chooses to stay his path with Frodo, but when he returns home, he finds the Shire in the ruined conditions of his vision in Galadriel’s mirror.  But then he remembers her gift to him: a little box with the earth from her orchard, and when he spreads the grains of earth that it contains, the trees and growing things of his beloved Shire are eventually restored.  May we all give and receive such gifts this Yuletide season!

 
Finding Light in Darkness    (Winter Solstice 2006)

         The Winter Solstice Season is one of unique mystery and evokes not only its own special symbolism, but more than any other time of year stirs the need and desire for the human imagination to express the ineffable. The engulfing darkness of the winter has profound affects. Early people feared that the sun would disappear forever and be lost; so much of their activity at the time of the Winter Solstice was devoted to insuring its return. We may laugh at such activity, but we are really not much different. We too express a host of seemingly odd, often unconsciously symbolic behaviors, out of the fear that something or someone of importance to us might become forever lost. The sun represented a god to ancient people, a god who would keep them from being consumed by darkness.
          In our own time most of us are familiar with SAD, or Seasonal Affective Disorder. The loss of light literally affects body chemistry in a way that the body needs more light. This is especially true in geographical areas where the nights are exceptionally long. The human psyche seeks to find light and meaning in such times and expresses this yearning symbolically. Ancient winter solstice rituals prepared for and celebrated the return of the light and the life on earth that came with it.

         People in modern Western civilization often associate this time of year with Christmas, and Christmas with the birth of Christ. Yet it wasn’t until the fourth century that Christians moved Christmas to December in order to compete with the solstice practices of ancient Rome. This act was an important one symbolically as it offered Christians their own profound symbol of new life arriving at a time of darkness, one that spoke eloquently to the soul’s longings at this time of year.
          Centuries later, according to some historians, the Christmas tree was brought into the picture, by of all people, Martin Luther, one of the leaders of the Protestant Reformation. The struggles within the church at this time for reform led the protestant side to reject many of the symbolic aspects of medieval church practice that the rational theological mind was eager to disregard. One Christmas Eve Luther was out in a pine forest and as he gazed at the stars was gripped by a profound sense of awe. The fragrance of the pines and the wind in the air moved him as the smell of incense and the sounds of a congregation had previously. He cut down a small tree and brought it home to his family. He decorated it with candles so he could duplicate his experience for his children.
          Luther was not creating something new, but bringing back a spirit of reverence for nature that had been forgotten. The evergreen tree symbolized eternal life, life that does not wither under the encroaching darkness or that is crushed by winter snow. We long to have what it represents and bring it into our homes to decorate and adorn it. To the symbolic mind, we welcome a “god” or “goddess” into our home, to be touched by its life giving energy. It brings inspiration and a unique sense of wonder and joy.
          So it is with many other solstice traditions. Consider, for instance, the Hebrew menorah. It too stirs a sense of magic, one that brings its users closer to a sense of mystery in the midst of outer and inner darkness. The original seven branch menorah of the Jerusalem temple evoked the mystery of light and was also related to tree symbolism. At Chanukah a nine branch menorah is used to recall a critical time when one day’s supply of oil for the temple menorah lasted for eight days.

Raven Brings the Light    (Winter Solstice 2005)
 
 
See the Raven Brings the Light page for this newsletter article
 
 
 
Nature and the Soul    (Winter Solstice 2004)    

        In an essay written near the end of his life entitled “Symbols and the Interpretation of Dreams,” C. G. Jung wrote: "Through scientific understanding, our world has become dehumanized. Man feels himself isolated in the cosmos. He is no longer involved in nature and has lost his emotional participation in natural events, which hitherto had a symbolic meaning for him. Thunder is no longer the voice of a god, nor is lightning his avenging missile. No river contains a spirit, no tree means a man’s life, no snake is the embodiment of wisdom, and no mountain still harbors a great demon. Neither do things speak to him nor can he speak to things, like stones, spring, plants, and animals. He no longer has a bush-soul identifying him with a wild animal. His immediate communication with nature is gone forever, and the emotional energy it generated has sunk into the unconscious.  This enormous loss is compensated by the symbols in our dreams. They bring up our original nature, its instincts and its peculiar thinking." (The Symbolic Life, Collected Works, Volume 18, par 585-86)
        In our last issue of the Newsletter (Solstice 2003) we told the Native American story of Leelinau, a young Ojibway girl and a special tree that spoke to her at a critical time in her life. In many ways Jung is describing a Native America approach to nature, one commonly found with most indigenous people. In the language of Native American mythology this is the time “when animals could talk.” Jung believed that by learning the symbolic language of our dreams we could once again learn to let nature speak to us and by doing so come to a better understanding of our connection to all living things.
Jungian analyst Neil Russack has written a poignant book, Animal Guides in Life, Myth and Dreams: An Analyst’s Notebook (Inner City Books, 2002), which describes his personal journey from childhood alienation from his natural self, to a more authentic one, largely through the relationship he was able to forge with nature and various animals. "As much as the books, the lectures, the papers, the consultation, and the analysis, my contact with nature was essential to my formation as healer of souls." (p.22)
        Russack describes how the symbolic language we learn to touch through our dreams can also be discovered through a living relationship with the animal world. Animals speak both to psyche and to life: that is, they have their own emotional vitality apart from the reflected image, and yet each enriches our understanding of the other. The animals, by bringing their body to the union of spirit and soul that their image conveys, complete their healing value for us. The reality of the psyche becomes embodied. (p. 185)
        Whether one journeys into the wilderness to be surprised by that unexpected wild creature, real or imagined, or one embraces a cat or dog at home, our souls are enriched.

Leelinau and the Sacred Tree   (Winter Solstice 2003)  

        When Leelinau, from the Native American Ojibway tribe, was a young girl she loved to spend her time roaming quiet areas or sitting peacefully upon some high outcropping of rock overlooking a lake. Her favorite spot was a forest of pines called Manitowok or the Spirit Grove. This place on the open shore was not often visited by her people because it was said to be inhabited by mischievous fairy-like turtle-spirits. When people needed to pass through the wood or seek shelter within it, they always left an offering of tobacco for these keepers of the grove.
        When Leelinau grew to marriageable age, her parents disapproved of her being away from home so much. One night they told her they had found a suitable man for her to marry. The young woman burst into tears. “I do not want to be married!” she sobbed.
        That night she crept out of her parents’ home and went to the Spirit Grove. She sat down against a young pine to decide what to do. She spent most of the evening, alternately crying and meditating, when finally she heard a voice come for the tree.
“Leelinau, I will be you lover,” the pine tree said. “You may stay with me forever and find peace in my love and happiness in my protection. In my bark canoe, you will float over the waters of the sky-blue lake.”
        Leelinau’s heart was flooded with relief and joy at these words. She returned home smiling and allowed her parents to continue with the wedding preparations. On the day she was to wed, she rose early and dressed in her wedding garments. She told her parents she wished to meet her lover at the Spirit Grove and they gave her consent. So Leelinau went into the forest and never came back.
        Many moons later a group of fisherman spearing fish near the grove thought they saw Leelinau standing by the shore. They silently paddled toward land, but the young woman saw them and fled into the forest. She was never seen again.

        At this time of year most of us have some sort of love affair with a tree or trees, just like Leelinau had with her pine tree. We bring them into our homes and lavish them with decorations. Our trees help us celebrate life. Of course we might also be moved as she was to journey into the forest to visit them.
        Ironically many people associate the Christmas tree with Christianity, but its history and roots predate Christianity. An old and deep symbolism is connected with them that permeates the world’s religions, folklore and myth. A sampling can be found in the book through which we share Leelinau’s story, The Solstice Evergreen: The History, Folklore and Origins of the Christmas Tree by Sheryl Ann Karas.
        From the magical tree of the shaman, to Christ on the cross, from the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden to the Sefirotic Tree of the Kabbala, from the great tree Yggdrasil in Norse mythology, to that of Odysseus and Penelope in the Odyssey, the tree carries a quintessential element of the life of the soul.

Dobby and Gollum     (Summer Solstice 2003)  

        Dobby and Gollum, two figures from this winter’s biggest film successes, "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets" and "The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers," stand out as remarkable representatives of an intriguing aspect of the Self, one that seeks to protect the personality from harm, but in doing so may thwart the fulfillment of its most important goal, individuation. As the Video and DVD versions of "The Chamber of Secrets" arrive in stores and those for "The Two Towers" turn up later this year, these characters are worth greater scrutiny.
         As Harry eagerly anticipates going “home” to the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and away from the wretched Dursleys, he finds himself confronted with Dobby, a house elf, who insists he is there to keep Harry from going to Hogwarts where he would be in imminent danger. While dangers do exist at Hogwarts--as they do anywhere--it is here in this magical and mysterious school that Harry learns about who he really is and takes steps towards reaching his fullest potential. While at the Dursleys Harry is treated with contempt, repeatedly shamed, and often confined to limited space and social contact.
        Dobby, in trying to “save” Harry, risks isolating him and keeping him from discovering further who he really is and where he truly belongs. He represents an aspect of the Self that analyst Donald Kalsched calls the “self-care system.” Essentially it seeks self-preservation and survival over self-fulfillment, self-realization and individuation. In particular to “protect” Harry, Dobby has cut off all contact with Harry’s friends from Hogwarts by intercepting all his mail. Dobby hopes that Harry will think he has been forgotten and that his friends are no longer interested in him. This is the negative side of the self-care system at work: cutting a person off from those that one most needs to thrive, with the intention of protecting the person from harm.
        Dobby represents a particular kind of psychological complex that has to be resolved for the personality to grow. Part of the overarching theme of "The Chamber of Secrets" is Harry’s coming to terms with Dobby. He does so by eventually discovering what Dobby is up to, and eventually freeing Dobby from the wizard family that holds him in slavery.
        Gollum, too, is an ambivalent Self figure along similar lines. Gollum is actually the “self-care” aspect of Smeagol, a figure not unlike the Hobbits, who has become a shadow of his former self due to his long exposure to the one Ring. The Hobbit Frodo Baggins, having struggled mightily with the burden of the Ring himself as the ring bearer for the Fellowship of the Ring, senses that inside the rough Gollum there is the more sensitive Smeagol, both exist within the same personality. After Frodo befriends Smeagol, despite his companion Sam’s great misgivings, Smeagol agrees to serve as their guide into Mordor where they plan to return the Ring so it can be destroyed.
        The film version of "The Two Towers" offers an extraordinary scene in which the two aspects of the Smeagol/Gollum character wrestle with each other to see which will predominate. Befriended by Frodo and trusting him, Smeagol wins the day in a moving dialogue and drives Gollum’s influence away. But later we see how fragile the dismissal of such a complex, one that helps the personality survive, can be. When the men of Gondor have positioned themselves to shoot Smeagol with their arrows, Frodo intercedes and goes down to rescue him. When he calls him and Smeagol is captured, Smeagol feels betrayed. He doesn’t realize that Frodo has saved his life, and so Gollum comes back to the forefront and plots revenge and betrayal of the shaky bond that has been formed. In this situation, because of the external circumstances, the self-care system isn’t “freed” as in the case of Dobby. But as Gandalf foresaw, it will still play a role in the larger drama.
 

Father Christmas, Gandalf, and Dumbledore  (Winter Solstice 2002)

 

When his oldest child was three years old, J. R. R. Tolkien, the author of The Lord of the Rings, began to send his children letters—complete with pictures—from Father Christmas at the North Pole.  (Beautifully illustrated in Letters from Father Christmas, New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1999.)  These letters, eventually sent to all four of his children, continued over a period of twenty years.  Penned by Father Christmas himself, they often contained added notes from Polar Bear, his chief assistant, who also had a knack for getting into mischief.

Tolkien’s imagination carried the legends of Christmas further and enlivened those of his children.  In his later work, The Lord of the Rings, one can recognize aspects of Father Christmas in the wizard Gandalf, especially when one considers the mythological roots of Father Christmas or Santa Claus.  From the Christian perspective Santa Claus is often seen as tied in with the legend of St. Nicholas, an early bishop, who was the patron saint of giving in secret.  His feast day was celebrated on December 5th.

However, Santa Claus is also symbolically connected with ancient Northern European mythology dating back to the time of the shamans.  As we approach the winter solstice season that culminates in the New Year, we will have another opportunity to experience amplifications of Father Christmas in films that brought us some of the mystery of this figure last year at this time as well.  While the new movie The Santa Claus 2 will present us another lighthearted depiction of this figure, Harry Potter and The Lord of the Rings will once more bring to this season more deeply mythological motifs.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets will once again introduce us to the elderly wizard, Albus Dumbledore, and his role in helping to mediate the emergence of the special “gifts” of the maturing Harry Potter.  Each Harry Potter story takes place during one school year, and the nadir is often the winter solstice time when Harry chooses to stay at Hogwarts rather than return to the Dursleys.  Dumbledore is the figure who most facilitates each of Harry’s years of transition, usually by indirect involvement.

The same is true in the Lord of the Rings and the role played by Gandalf.  While occasionally Gandalf does act in important ways, his larger role is shepherding the unfolding of the other key figures, especially the various Hobbits and Aragorn.  Yet each of these figures, like Harry Potter, must make their own choices.  Gandalf and Dumbledore function more like shamanic intermediaries in worlds that must overcome darkness, much as Father Christmas mediates the passage through the darkness of the winter solstice and brings us forward again into a new year and a renewed light.

Father Christmas flies through the air with the assistance of his reindeer and descends into our homes through our chimneys.  His journey of mediation is quite well known and accepted.   In Harry Potter we see similar flights in the air, whether it is on broomsticks in the wizard game of Quidditch, with the aid of some mythic beasts, or through the magic by which Harry arrives by car at Hogwart’s for his second year of study.  Through the unusual enchanting power of floo powder, we also see the special passage through chimney’s that carry any wizard from one place to another.

Chimneys allow the smoke and residue of fires to pass into the air so that the fire is contained and it can serve human needs.  In the Lord of the Rings the one ring must be returned to the fire that forged it, and the greatest facilitator of this task is Gandalf.  The wizard is a master of the mysteries of fire, whether it’s through the delightful fireworks he brings to the celebrations of the Hobbits, or facing the evil Balrog in the depths of the mines of Moria.  Through his wisdom in matters of fire Gandalf effects transformation within Middle Earth, including his own.

The images that unfold from these stories bear witness to the power of the archetypes that lay behind them and the need in our world for transformation of it’s darker and more threatening energies.

 

Harry Potter and Frodo Baggins       (Summer Solstice 2002)

 

In times of stress and amidst life’s struggles we can often look within to our dreams for a unique or illuminating perspective on our situation.  On a collective level the myths of a people help put their experiences of life into perspective.  Stories can help illuminate circumstances or at least offer a fresh outlook on them.  Thus following the enormous tragedy of September, in a meaningful and timely way, two mythological/fantasy films came to theatres in November and December as if to help speak symbolically to the events that had assaulted us at summer’s end.          

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone and The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring both drew blockbuster audiences by displaying imaginative dramas that originally came to us in written form.  At the core of both stories we find the heroic struggle and encounter with an essentially unimaginable evil that would take over the world, and that many people would prefer to deny and avoid. These stories offer mythic images portraying the power of such demonic energies to possess, the enormous human effort required not to be overcome by them, and the search for ways to diminish their power and influence.

What we see in these stories is that the truest hero is also an unlikely one--unassuming, and even innocent.  Harry Potter has no clue as to his truest identity or self, and not until his eleventh birthday does he begin to enter a world completely different from the one he has known, but one in which he is far more at home.  Nor is he at all aware that within this magical and imaginative world he is already famous, for at age one he survived a direct attack of the dark wizard who had just killed his parents.  Harry thus can be seen as the ultimate “survivor,” and his story that of a youth growing through the turbulence of adolescence into maturity.

Like Harry, Frodo Baggins of the Shire in Middle Earth is naïve and innocent.  Unlike Harry who suffered at the hands of the Dursley’s during his early years following the deaths of his parents, Frodo’s life in the pastoral setting of the Shire was peaceful and serene.  Only later does he come to feel the enormous burden of being the “ring bearer,” a responsibility inadvertently passed onto him through the early adventures of a beloved uncle.  Frodo’s destiny has a more far-reaching significance for the fate of Middle Earth than anyone could have imagined, even the most intuitive members of this world.  When Frodo comes to lament the burden he carries and wishes the ring had never come to him, the wizard Gandalf offers words that speak to him, to Harry Potter, and to all of us: “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide.  All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Both Harry and Frodo are destined to learn to attain the right relationship to an object—the Sorcerer’s Stone and the one Ring—which in the wrong hands can be used for power and destruction.  In both stories such an object is best destroyed rather than possessed.  The most unique quality of each of these characters is that they are both far less likely to try to possess this mysterious and powerful object than most others.  It is a responsibility best given to them than even the wise, for it seems they are most likely to be who they truly are; not more, but not less.  They answer the call to individuation and their own uniqueness, and are not thrown off by the forces of darkness.

 

Myth and National Trauma         (Winter Solstice 2001)

 

Amidst the tremendous tragedy of the airplane assaults on the World Trade Center and the Pentagon most of us are still in a daze as we seek to move forward with our lives amidst the conflict in Afghanistan and fears of terrorism locally.  Symbolically we have experienced a national trauma of mythic proportions.  The dark side of our collective psychic life has erupted in a powerful and disturbing way.

            Most of us experience such events through the sensibilities of our deepest personal traumas.  As we listen to ourselves and others speak, it often seems like are worst fears and most painful experiences are being relived all over again.  Part of the challenge of dealing with this magnitude of collective trauma is working further on the personal ones that we each might be reliving.

            Beyond this we face the challenge of understanding the magnitude of the events of September 11th and their powerful archetypal nature.  What was enacted has ironically been alive in the collective imagination prior to this date.  News programs have show a flight simulator produced by Microsoft that allowed one to visualize oneself piloting a plane into the World Trade Center.  Similarly a rap album was to be released with a cover depicting explosions emanating from about the same place in the World Trade Center where the two planes actually hit.  This cover illustration was meant to portray the group’s anti-capitalism stance. Obviously this image was in many people’s minds before the event.  Now it is in all of our minds, and the flight simulator and the album cover have been taken off the market.

            Such movements within the collective psyche demonstrate how easily we can be affected by the impulses and images that emerge out of the unconscious, and they confront us with the big question: How do we deal with them?  On some level we can all be gripped by an impulse to lash out, erupt in anger, fall into the grip of a temper tantrum.  For instance, we frequently witness road rage incidents around us on almost a daily basis.  We do not, though, usually see such things of the magnitude that we did on September 11th.

            Ironically and fortuitously, our modern mythmakers have already been grappling with some of the “scenes” that we have witnessed in this tragedy.  For example, in the first Star Wars film George Lucas portrayed power driven figures who would destroy a whole planet to achieve their purposes.  What drives such people?  How do the rest of us hold on to other values and live our lives?  These are some of the questions posed by such stories and by the events that have so deeply affected us.

            The current sequence of films Lucas is working on essentially revolves around the theme of how a basically sweet, good kid turns to evil.  Young, unselfish Anakin Skywalker becomes Darth Vader.  Post-September 11th we are left to wonder how upper and middle class, well educated men could turn to such horrendous acts and a deep-seated belief in their justification.  These are questions of mythic proportions and will take along time for us to comprehend.

            As we approach the Solstice season, which celebrates a time of seasonal darkness and the birth of new life out of the dark void, we might want to consider the story told in Matthew’s gospel concerning the birth of Christ. Sinister forces, as represented by Herod, sought to destroy all male newborns so as to destroy the newborn king.  But the boy’s father, Joseph, was warned in his dreams as to how to protect his child and see to his survival and growth.  This story would suggest that we can look to the depths of the human psyche itself in order to best understand how to deal with the eruption of its darkest aspects.

            This holiday season be sure to talk openly with those you know about what you might be feeling as the drama in the world around us continues to play itself out.  May the Force be with us All.

 

The Burning Bush       (Summer Solstice 2001)

 

            One of the best examples of the relevance of the symbolic language of the psyche to our psychological development comes to us from the story of the Exodus.  After a time of exile from Egypt and a new, more grounded life as a shepherd, Moses discovers the burning bush.  This experience comes to him quite unexpectedly.  Sensing this encounter as one of great importance, he honors it reverentially, and soon hears the voice of God.

This incident sets Moses forth toward his destiny as the leader of the people of Israel out of Egypt, to Mount Sinai, and on to the Promised Land.  In the language of Jungian psychology, at the burning bush Moses encounters the call to individuation, his unique destiny and purpose.

The burning bush is a fitting symbol of this call for Moses.  When last in Egypt he had become possessed with rage while watching an Egyptian overseer beating a fellow Hebrew.  Out of this rage Moses killed the Egyptian, and was forced to flea into the surrounding wilderness in order to save his own life.  Here Moses settles into a life more rooted to the earth, its plants and animals, including starting his own family.  In the burning bush, Moses discovers a fire that burns, but does not consume, indicative of his now transformed anger.  This fiery energy is not a threat to the organic life represented by the living bush.  In this symbol they coexist.  Now Moses is ready to go forward into life in a new way, not consumed by primitive affect, but able to channel his energies into the service of the greater purposes of life.

Spring has traditionally been a time to consider such transformative experiences.  The miraculous events of Passover and Easter are celebrated during this season.  Persephone returns from the underworld, and the vegetative earth governed by her mother Demeter is renewed and regenerated.

This spring we at Coldwater Counseling Center wish you a meaningful encounter with the symbolic world of the burning bush, either through renewed contact with the traditions of old, or in some new transformative way.  Maybe your dog will talk, your moose will fly, or that which you most fear, rather than consume you, might bring you warmth and comfort.

 

The Imaginative World             (Winter Solstice 2000)     

 

          As we discussed in the last newsletter the most direct access to the symbolic life we all share is our nightly dreams.  Each night as we sleep the psyche imparts it’s own unique--though usually perplexing--form or wisdom.

            However, there is also a cultural component to this experience, a time of year in which various cultures believe that we are closest to the “spiritual realm.”  While this may vary in some societies, it is primarily the fall and winter that most people experience this affinity to the mysterious side of life.  We have just passed one such juncture in Western culture with the celebration of Halloween, which now is the second busiest commercial holiday (after Christmas) in our society.  Here the dark elements are imagined and “incarnated” through the various decorations and costumes.  Aspects of life that lie in the further reaches of the imagination are manifest much more directly. Similarly the spirits of the dead are assumed to be closer to us than at other times.  Psychologically, all these various components bring us closer to parts of ourselves that require more attention.

            Similarly, as we get closer to the winter Solstice, Christmas, and New Years we encounter another time when our imaginations are pulled to consider the transformative elements of the human soul that can come into play to enrich us.  It is a magical time of year when myths of the imagination are on display more than any other.

            We are Coldwater Counseling Center hope that even as you may touch the dark points of your soul’s struggles as the days shorten, that you will find ways to ignite the spirit that brings light and hope to those places that may need it most.

          

The Exodus Journey            (Summer Solstice 2000)  

 

One way to understand the roots of Jungian psychology is through its connection to the symbolic language of the human psyche as particularly manifested in our dreams.  Each night as we sleep the psyche imparts its own unique, though usually perplexing form of wisdom.  Often it takes time and careful attention to mind its gold.

The world’s myths, fairy tales, and legends are another source of our knowledge of the depths of the human soul and the dramas played out there.  Knowledge of these stories can help us perceive the psychological struggles of modern individuals. They are our collective “dreams,” and are usually quite applicable to broad categories of people and to many of the struggles within the human personality.

A good example is the story of the Exodus, which depicts a group of people who must leave a place that has become familiar to them.  They must move on to another setting that offers more promise since it is more deeply connected to who these people really are.  This story is most often retold in the spring, as it represents an important depiction of the renewal of the human spirit.  Often this Biblical narrative can be most helpful in illuminating the struggles of individuals in therapy, putting a uniquely painful and unintelligible situation into a broader context that offers meaning.

The people of Israel had to go to Egypt in order to avoid a drought; this was their best alternative at the time and life saving.  Many people today find themselves in similar situations; an adaptation is made that is absolutely critical for their survival at a certain point in their life. But eventually at some later time in their existence, living within the parameters of previous choices keeps them from fulfillment of their fullest potential.  However, it is not easy to give up the old routine, even if it now proves to be painful and unsatisfactory. Even as the strongest aspect of the Self—represented by Moses—pushes to move forward, fear of the unknown and comfort with the familiar, prove a heavy burden. What is worse, many people have an internal tyrannical part, represented by Pharaoh in this story, that rages at any change, and will do all that it can to keep things from getting better, chiefly because the “Pharaoh” part would no longer be in control.

It is amazing to see in clinical work how many people today struggle internally with a situation very similar to the one in this story.  Connecting one’s personal life journey to such an important tale offers a unique kind of spiritual comfort and companionship; one is not quite so alone.  Knowing one’s life journey has archetypal roots offers some sense that others might have experienced the same struggle on some level and had to work through similar feelings.  (Scroll up to the Summer Solstice 2001 Symbolic Life for a discussion of the symbolism of the Burning Bush.)

 
Written by Steve Galipeau, Executive Director