Science and Psyche: The Paradox of Consciousness

I’m as impressed by science and technology as anyone. Tremendous focus and organization are required to achieve the astounding changes of the last century. Think about it: as a boy, my grandfather saw Indians squatting across the river waiting to trade deer-meat with his father. As a teenager, my father remembers soldiers returning from WWII teaching the town-folk to form lines at the theater to relieve the mob-like clamor at the box-office.

The age of the scientific method has seen the organization and consolidation of consciousness accelerate exponentially. There is, however, a big downside to it: the conscious mind tends to identify with what it’s focused on. When it does, it’s susceptible to possession by contrary unconscious factors. If history teaches us anything, it’s how easily conscious intent is changed into its opposite.

It’s natural to think highly of our achievements, but pride and self-awe are such subtle vulnerabilities that gods (along with a little belief and reflection) were once needed to remind us of their consequences. Consistent with such ideas, Jung described ego-consciousness as only one complex among many in the mind’s constitution, and unconscious complexes influence it beyond perception.

Some years ago, I read The Elegant Universe, by Brian Greene: an informative, well-written book which discussed how the universe works compared to the quantum world. Scientists can accurately predict the movements of planets, but on the sub-atomic level, they can’t predict how particles behave (unsettling, I know). They appear in contradictory form — as particles and waves, depending on the type of experiment.

Position and velocity, for instance, can’t be measured at the same time, and the concept of complementarity describes a “duality paradox” where the mode of observation determines the data. Einstein wrote: “We are faced with a new kind of difficulty. We have two contradictory pictures of reality; separately neither of them fully explains the phenomena…”

In Jung’s collaboration with German physicist, Wolfgang Pauli, they agreed that psychology and physics had something in common: when one thing is viewed, its complement, or opposite, is obscured. Both sciences proved empirically that even under the most rigorous conditions, observation is relative to the psyche.

When a thing becomes consious, it changes according to the way we see it. It’s no longer objective in the sense it was before we became aware of it. As an object of thought, it’s incorporated into the psyche and becomes subjective. Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle, Einstein’s relativity, Jung’s subjective factor: all describe the nature of cognition.

Instruments minimize subjective influences under controlled conditions; though they’re considerably magnified under natural ones. Often more important than the knowledge itself, the psyche prescribes what we see and how we see it. Add to it the egocentric qualities of individual complexes, and you can imagine how difficult it is to observe ourselves with any objectivity.

How we interpret and apply knowledge is as fundamental as its acquisition. The deeper we look, the more perception contrasts with reality, just as the attempt to reconcile general laws of the universe with those of quantum mechanics show.

You might remember A Beautiful Mind, by Sylvia Nasar: a biography of the mathematician, John Nash. He ostensibly “cured” his schizophrenia through sheer willpower — at least, that’s how the Hollywood movie-version depicted it. The book tells the real story behind the conscious fantasy.

I saw an interview with Nash on PBS, where he was asked to summarize his experiences. He shrugged, as if it made no sense, and said he was left with this image: his “rational thinking had blocked my view of the universe.”

Nash’s psychosis became evident to his wife when she found him busily painting large black circles on the walls in his study. Though it seems bizarre, its symbolic content becomes more comprehensible when viewed in its historical context. The deeper meaning hidden in the black circle which grew so large to Nash that it overwhelmed him, was examined by Jung:

The black dot is an archetypal idea similar to the Greek atom. Jung showed its relation to the Jewish-Christian idea of Adam as a symbol of wholeness, the Original Man. The Greek historian Hippolytus described the Gnostic idea of this indivisible point in the second century A.D.: “This point, being nothing and consisting of nothing, attains a magnitude incomprehensible by thought… this mustard seed which grows into the Kingdom of God.” Physicists’ theories of black holes and the big bang derive from this prototypal image.

Jung described it as the symbol of a profoundly unconscious organizing function which seeks to unify the personality, something like a primitive god-image; it appears during periods of disorientation: the psyche’s response to a dissociated consciousness.

For Nash, it symbolized not only the split condition his rational mind created but also the healing factor which would gradually guide him back over some thirty years to his emotional foundations.

Nash’s proclivities left him with a vulnerability as extreme as his talent. Not all are predisposed to such creative, hard-to-reconcile differences, but his example highlights the increasing value of a science of symbols.

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Archetypal Dreams

Jung saw dreams as objective statements by the psyche about itself. There’s no question they express a different reality than the waking mind sees. Despite claims by certain materialists that they’re residual neuronal activities of a re-charging brain, those who sense meaning in them know they contain information about life they couldn’t otherwise know.

Reflection on a dream unearths a complex web of associations, and moods can change perceptibly even with no understanding. Their compensating role was an early discovery of Jung’s and presupposes an unconscious balancing function aimed at unity or wholeness.

Their apparent personal level is a paradox: beneath it, instinctual patterns of behavior shape the most intimate private needs around the pre-existing forms required for the regulation of development. Who chooses his own growth?

Though Jung outlined the general process, how the personal grows out of the impersonal and the role dreams play in mediating it to consciousness is a deeply subjective mystery. From day-dreams and nightmares to gods and devils, what may appear as fantasy is a ceaseless stream of symbolic creative activity aimed at consolidating the personality for the fulfillment of  its destiny.

“Archetypal” describes our functioning as a species. Historical associations give context to personal conflicts, and primitive images sometimes depict graphic violence and/or sexuality mixed with profound spiritual and philosophical ideas with little or no personal experience behind them: the reason Jung stressed the value of religious symbols — only history provides their reference points.

Since they come from the “old brain”, they often appear disgusting or repulsive. Their organic aspects are a reality modern life will avoid when possible. There are men who can’t bear to see their own children born. When I was a child, men weren’t even allowed in the delivery room. Nature appeases no whim of man in the creation and maintenance of life — including weakness, disease, and death.

Consistent with our earthly natures, biological urges reflect the dark regions of prehistoric religious functions. We worry little about such living paradoxes in the frenzied pace of life today, though unconscious diversions contribute to our anxieties. By the middle years, we may feel such dreams as frightening, hostile, even as an “alien will”.

They may appear startling and bizarre. As a teen, I dreamed of a naked woman, arms open, raised as if to a deity, an erect penis protruding between her breasts. I thought I was crazy. Only much later did I read Erich Neumann’s assessment: the developing masculine principle was emerging from the unconscious matrix of the creative feminine.

Their depth is as philosophically sophisticated as it is primitive. Contemplation leads far beyond the brute world they often portray: analogies which embrace the whole of man’s development, and they change shape as quickly as thought pursues them. There’s no doubt they’re inherited ways of perception for anyone willing to inspect them.

Jung and Neumann, along with many others, have documented them — much to the chagrin of modern science: tangible proof that we’re conditioned by factors extending back to the animal world, inconceivable without an orientation to history.

Jung established a comparative model to interpret this history. All of science depends on its symbols but lacks the knowledge to understand them. I read of a team of anthropologists studying cave paintings in France. They wasted untold resources searching out aboriginal peoples who would tell them what the symbols meant. This is backwards, for the knowledge was never conscious. As my last post implies: what do such assumptions say about the scientific intellect?

Who’s ever had an archetypal dream will sense its profundity — if he/she doesn’t dismiss it as too foreign and incomprehensible for reflection. Emotion dictates, however, that it can never be completely repressed. Of course, it is foreign; its perspective is far from the contemporary one. The more convinced one is of an artificial truth, the more frightening nature’s images appear. Archetypal dreams have very different notions of life than our conscious appraisals.

While going through the youthful process of separating from home, I had a dream in which a voice stated: “I am my father, my father is me.” I was having conflicts with my father, and it helped me to understand the projections we were trading — but I had no knowledge at the time that it echoed almost verbatim a religious idea straight out of Egyptian mythology.

Such dreams are of a still-living psychic history — regardless of what we think or believe. The emotions they evoke feel divine, leading some to believe that God speaks directly through them. They’re almost always misinterpreted by those anchored in certainty, ego-security, and fear of the unknown. They derive from an unconscious authority outside any culture or belief and tend to isolate and confuse those who experience them — however…

If you trust collective assumptions to make moral decisions for you; if you trust the direction culture is taking to forge a sane future for your children, then beware these unsettling voices in the stillness of your soul — they mean inner conflict. If exposed to enough of them that you question the culture you live in – you may be deranged.

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A Brief History of Consciousness

We may take consciousness for granted today, but historically, it’s a relatively new phenomenon. The biblical Word is intimately linked to it by modern science as well as philosophy and religion, and new studies describe dual functions of evolution on one hand and highly developed defense-mechanisms against it on the other.

Before nature’s novel experiment in self-recognition, primates were primarily outfitted for eating, excreting, and competing mainly for the purposes of coitus. This may explain Congress, but what of the deeper concerns of  regular humans? Evolutionary psychology provides clues to this mystery:

In Homo Antithesus, around three million years ago, an evolving capacity to associate past experiences formed a psychic complex known as consciousness, or in academia as the “God Complex”. Its dwarf state enabled our ancestors to think backward along a chain of preceding events. The capacity for memory carried with it a function for weighing possibilities, too, and the forward flow was primitively conceptualized as time — or money, as we know it today.

Thoughts originally appeared as hallucinations in the dawn mind. An inability to differentiate its mental activities from its surroundings merged them with sense perceptions, and the mysteries of its own ideation were perceived as spirit or magic. Early hominids venerated what their bodies needed, and plants and animals were the first objects of worship. 

Even as crude prototypes, thought-obsessions and compulsive object-worship proved more effective for survival than blind instinct. How else would the new species maintain the delicate balance of nature beneath the ethereal Word which was destined to subdue it (with the possible exceptions of the weather, chance, accident, and the unforeseeable consequences of its every action)? Though now classified as symptoms of mental derangement in the under-privileged, these functional dissociations are the building-blocks of culture…

As in a mirror, unconscious images were reflected back in real-time. So vivid were they through the medium of sense perception, the world appeared only as Concrete Reality. Of course, it was real in one sense yet not in another, for the new complex was still fixed on physical survival: image merged with object as in a dream.

About a half a million years ago, the intra-psychic effects of sense images began to reflect identifications beyond Concrete Reality: on a more psychological level of hallucination called spirit-possession. An unstable ego’s resistance to change bid it cling to the self-flattering aspects of the new function, and these gradually assumed fantastic proportion in correlation to its fear of development. This was unavoidable:

Nature combined intuition and an inflated sense of self to foster and protect the new complex; for, without the dual functions of support and opposition inherent in its purposes, the nascent individual identity so vital to its evolution would never gain the strength to confront the reality it saw in all of nature but denied in itself. 

In compensation for the future-dread instilled by its gift of foresight, ego came to sense its possession as if divinely ordained. In its identity with the “upward” symbols of a “higher” reality above the crotch and belly of instinct, it quickly ballooned far beyond its head and flew directly into the stratosphere…

As a cultural instrument, The Word gained complexity through social exchange; though its subjective nature worked also as a tool for rationalization and a magical flight from the instinct-compulsions it refuted. Its backward thought translated its fears into upside-down collective ideas which only further veiled the subversive effects of its inflated perspective.

Indistinguishable from the causal reasoning demanded by its wish for stability, the forward movement subverted by its social conformity re-surfaced as crude self-interest: a compensation for the group identity it was overly reliant upon. The puffed-up complex mirrored in its religious ideals grew into self-adulation.

Unconscious fealty to a static self-image conceived the tasks of development as having long been accomplished, and it was obstinate to any change beyond the abetment of sensual pleasure. The instinctive demand for personal reflection bogged down in a collective spiritual indolence consumed only with reducing physical effort; mental focus remained tied to the senses. Energies specific to development over-accumulated in proportion to their fears of them and came to be seen as bad things to be avoided.

The repressed urge for development gradually formed into mass projections called Ideologies. Legions fought over their subjective perceptions for centuries, unaware that the psychic realities of subject and object were bound up in the contagion of collective hallucination divided by as many heads as reacted to them. This grudgingly allowed the random awareness of a few until their more curious hit on observation and experiment to test assumption. This partially lifted the curtain of perception — but only in the external world.

Fueled by its fascination with objectivity and the wish for certainty, the new science inspected everything but the self-awe which had so long plagued it. Those who funded it quickly saw the worth in exploiting it and set about the mass manufacture of commercial fascination with objects. This dissolved the old holographic sky-deities and was seen as further proof of the fantastic self-images they’d historically convinced themselves of: the only thing left unexamined. The new form of self-aggrandizement was perceived as a great advancement; though it described as much regress as progress.

The regressions only reinforced the original biological orientation, and the new science could no more reconcile unconscious purpose to conscious objective than its ancestors. In response to the old upside-down religious views, it turned perception inside-out.

Hypnotized by the new subjective objectivity, the instinctive symbols which directed it remained as undifferentiated as the fantastic sky-deities — only re-emerged in a new object-worship. 

Read a poetic example of how these symbols manifest in modern dreams.

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The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet: A Pre-Apocalyptic Parable

For God doth know that in the day ye eat thereof, then your eyes shall be opened, and ye shall be as gods, knowing good and evil.”  – Genesis 3:5

As outdated as it may seem, that old saw remains as penetrating and powerful a paradigm today as it did in — well, say 1952, when The Adventures of Ozzie and Harriet boasted the bounties of post-war technological advancements. At its core is a psychological truth so foreign to modern sensibilities that few relate to it beyond the centuries-old double-speak of church rhetoric.

Weighed against the dreaming mind that theorized that long-thwarted thimble of theosophical thought, the new slumber of subliminal salesmanship spilling out its unconscious spirit-superstitions through today’s media is but the last fast, fleeting gasp of the red-dwarf Star of Bethlehem on a high cosmic wind. There’s more history in it, though, than meets the naked eye — and by naked, I mean Ozzie and Harriet hiding their bodies behind the fifties fig leaves of Frigidaires, Fords, and family life in the modern version of paradise.

Old-time religion saw the biblical event not just as sin but as the Sin. So, how did Ozzie and Harriet feign the figurative fruit of that fateful Tree on the new level of media-worship — without the guilt? Today’s values would suggest something hidden in it which evaded avid T.V. audiences of the fifties — just as it did their near ancestors: believers who felt the guilt but couldn’t believe in the reasons for it through the dense cloud of participation mystique.

The new myth states that a strangely sapient snake-oil salesman enticed Ozzie and Harriet into the latest Original Sin. Since the mere taste of a thing in no way implies its assimilation, the “knowing” of right and wrong proved to be more a blind fascination with novelty. Like their progenitors, they were subject to a higher power which worked beyond their will (so far beyond, it was conceived as coming from outer space). But, the real spokesman for the new candied fruit was the lowly but lordly loudspeaker of The Greatest Show on Earth — a once-comedic, Lucifer-like parody, now the same but subtler barker for the New Era of Ego…

In the old myth, God justly punished man for instinctively following that fateful function for self-aggrandizement by condemning him to reflect on the nature He’d given him; for it carried with it greater consequences than could be divined without conscious devotion to higher purposes. Subsequent events, however, revealed it to be a more dire warning of what lay ahead: the dual and ambiguous nature of consciousness.

Now as then, all co-exist in the new Media Garden: a euphemistic refuge from the chaotic, instinctual world of unconscious animal functions and other such irrational unknowns as may prompt us to treat the earth as our own God-given vacation-spot to be seized upon during brief respites from our primary occupations of destroying its pristine beauty, along with ourselves and as many others of the creatures of our dominion as we deem needful (and for fun and sport, too), for — our entertainment: our only escape from the intolerable guilt that lies furtive and frenzied in that fantastic fruit.

God (and Billy Graham, too; for, many were convinced that God spoke through Billy, which he did, but not in the way most believed) even strolled through their garden in the dim twilight; though this served mainly to repress the feared sub-nature He’d created in a majestic matrix of diversity and death for all living things to evolve and not just the one that fit the fancies of the small, self-serving ciphers who saw themselves as if outside it through their identification with their extraterrestrial creator.

Paradoxically, it was all the little Billy Grahams who gave them tacit permission to set about the methodical, man-made miracle of undoing everything God had so painstakingly prepared for them. Creating a vastly inferior product from something much greater is the lowest form of creation; and as a species, it’s the best we’ve managed through our compensations up to this point…

As long as the Nelson family followed the one rule, which Billy was very insistent on, of tasting the guilt but not assimilating it, everything was business as usual; as it was in the first garden — except for the exponentially increased killing power of the new technology. They still did what higher powers told them to — like animals would if they were subject to instincts. The fact that Billy was so insistent on just the one prohibition keeps with the old prescription that it was not just by chance that they went straight to the new candied fruit and were thereupon hypnotized by it.

Both gardens describe mental conditions shared by all. In the old one, even the serpent shared the gift of speech — a peculiarly human function which would seem to separate us from the lower orders, though as a more genuine form of relation vis-a-vis animals, or even bacteria for that matter, it remains debatable.

That the first serpent had speech, too, may appear confusing, because primary sources state that the Word was a divine attribute — even that it was God. It implies that one of the lowest forms on the scale of evolution also had the gift of divinity (the guilt of Billy Graham and the carnival barker) — that it was in fact, another aspect of The Creator.

The deceptive cunning (otherwise known as the projection of ego-qualities onto Nature) symbolized in these two oddly-matched deity-figures so fascinated and confused the rudely developed hominids who could not but worship them, few could distinguish between them.

The function of guilt could not be seen without its reflection. Where did it go?

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Instinct in the Human Animal

Austrian ethologist (animal behaviorist, different from the human ego-version), Konrad Lorenz, was of a class of empiricists whose integrity stood out in the field of observational science. His book, On Aggression, was a model in his discipline. His dedication to understanding nature equaled his love of animals, and his book was a tribute to both.

One study he recounted was an experiment by Wallace Craig on the effects of loneliness in the blonde ring dove. He separated a male in a cage to see which objects might elicit courtship activities when deprived of a female:

After several days he was ready to “court a white dove which he had previously ignored. A few days later he was bowing and cooing to a stuffed pigeon, later still to a rolled-up cloth, and finally, after weeks of solitary confinement, he directed his courtship to the empty corner of his boxed cage where the convergence of the straight lines offered at least an optical fixation point.”

Lorenz explained that the inner threshold of release sinks in proportion to the lack of external stimuli. Instinct regulates specific energies according to natural imperatives. Lacking the specific object of its intent, the energy is expended on the closest available analogy to it.

Many have difficulty admitting that humans are subject to the same instincts as the rest of the animal kingdom, though anyone seeking company in a bar can relate to the dove in the cage. It seems “the girls all look prettier at closing time.” But, whether we’re talking about birds, bars, babies, or bibles, similar functions are at work. That’s just the body, though, right? God gave it to us (only once-removed from His image) not only to tempt us but to: “Be fruitful and multiply… and subdue the earth…” However haughtily science may deride religious belief, it still operates on that very assumption.

Conversely, we’ve long been dangerously over-populated, and an unconscious science has also devised quick and terrible remedies for it when nature deems it no longer sustainable. Aims differ according to higher needs, and biological impulses contain the seeds of psychic functions on higher levels.

Lorenz quoted from the witch’s kitchen scene in Faust where Mephistopheles proffers the potion which will enable Faust to fall in love: “With this drink in your body, soon you’ll greet/A Helena in every girl you meet.” — an example of the mythic complexities of the sexual instinct in a conscious animal.

Jung showed that the gulf between the natural intent of an unconscious function and its conscious fulfillment is compensated by longing — libido, his term for psychic energy, from the Latin, lust or desire. He showed in his, Symbols of Transformation, how the energy originally arising from the sexual instinct is converted into higher cultural aims through symbolic ritual.

But, he also argued that rational concepts can’t replace living experience: the value of symbol and ritual. He compared it with the knowledge of a disease as opposed to having it. History shows, too, that even the most ardent believers experience the doubt and conflict which fill the divide between a function’s natural intent and conscious ideas about it — a process of discovery none deny except they be trapped in the past.

Like the dove’s courtship to the rolled-up cloth, an instinctual need must be acted out in some form. If consciousness deviates too far from it, its energy is expended in compensating activities: exaggerations, compulsions, obsessions, “isms”, and all the rest of the litany of modern psychic conflict.

Compare Wallace Craig’s observations with the changes reflected in today’s shift from theology to science to technology to media diversion. Like the dove in the cage, Jung showed that the religious function can’t be deprived of its energy even where there’s no conscious outlet. It re-appears in substitute forms which resemble the original intent but don’t satisfy it.

Even when we profess spiritual beliefs, however sincerely, we have difficulty recognizing that we also identify with them; and in the identity, we worship the belief through its object. An unconscious opposition then creates unintended consequences designed to re-direct it — like the unconscious effects of the creation/destruction problem on science and religion.

It’s difficult enough to reconcile any ideal with a psychic reality, however truly believed in — how much more so when one has forfeited the spiritual reflection intended to inform it? Inner responsibility is compensated by an extraverted group-think as contradictory as it is unconscious.

The dizzying complexity of information today is indigestible without the feeling-values needed to orient and organize it. Science and technology feed commercial innovation, and a deceptive media markets it to keep us from reflecting on what we’re doing; if we can be induced to identify with things, we’ll need more and more of them to fill the psychic void. We sit staring at “the empty corner… “

Jung demonstrated that the only faculty that makes sense or meaning of the world is the reflective instinct; that its religious and philosophical nature is a reality and will not be altered: an individual function that no group possesses but is possessed by through identification.

Unconscious conflicts, however, produce symptoms. They appear in relief in the individual, but also reflect cultural undercurrents. To a rational, scientific psychology which has rejected the study of religion as psychic experience, symptoms mean “disease”. A simple animal analogy can’t tell us how doves feel, but we could learn a lot more about stuffed pigeons with a little knowledge and reflection.

Read more on the symbolic aspects of instinct.

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Philip Wylie: An Essay On Morals

Philip Wylie was a preacher’s son; mainly, a fiction writer in the 40′s and 50′s. His keen intellect tackled the controversies of his day through the characters in his novels. He was self-educated in that he had no degree, though he’d studied physics and psychology at Cal State and Princeton, “beyond the point at which doctorates are given.” He was a critical thinker in pursuit of subjective truth. 

I stumbled onto An Essay on Morals in high school. It was dedicated to C. G. Jung’s psychology, the conceptual underpinnings of Mr. Wylie’s philosophy. His social critique became a guiding thread in my own search for a subjective truth. These are some of his ideas:

“What shall we do?” he asked, concerned for the deepening psychic split he saw reflected in the conflict between science and religion. He described its resolution as an inner search: “The answer for the individual is clear. Through the use of his conscience, and with insight into natural law, he can extend his awareness as far as he will.

“To be conscious of the instincts and conscious in the instinctual sense is his chief function. Learning psychological law and meditating it in the intellect is of little avail. It must be applied by the man to every thought and notion, dream, fantasy, memory and motive. The illumination that ensues takes the form of inward experience, of heightened consciousness, of the fulfillment of the newly educated mind through performance.”

He explored the possibilities of a society oriented to understanding its nature in the interest of collective consciousness and not just for the benefit of a few: “I think… education could profit if it were to embark upon the serious, subjective instruction of wisdom in the order man has learned it. Anthropology provides the proper schedule for subjective study by the child.”

These are things mature, intelligent beings ponder when they envision their children’s futures. When did you last hear a politician or preacher express such ideas? Very different notions of profit drive today’s leaders.

“The great advantage of the deep, inner realization that man is an animal lies in the fact that it reveals the amount of work and effort he must expend to accomplish his good purposes — to use his virtues creatively and his destructive impulses for the destruction of that which impedes his consciousness, beginning with his ego. The very acceptance of our animal nature and origin and state is, in itself, the biggest blow to the ego. We have imagined that, as super-beasts, as animals with souls, or animals made superior with reason, there ought to be for us a quick and handy way to personal perfection and the achievement of Heaven on Earth. But if we know we are animals, we see how we must evolve, and that the more conscious we make ourselves, the sooner shall we evolve.”

He saw exposing the myth of racial purity as basic to a modern education in a global community: “… national and racial prejudice is founded upon ignorance and fear… he is afraid of other races because he is afraid of himself.

“…to protect himself from the knowledge of his constant panic, he develops an arrogance of race… and nations. This, he passes on to his son, generation after generation…  its attending facts ought to be taught to the ten year old, and not just in college to a few candidates for philosophical doctorates.

“Next on the public curriculum should come that significant finding about man which next occurred in history: the discovery of the unconscious mind… The home and the schools of an animal that knows its universal kinship with beasts will be ready to receive the ideas. Sex symbols, totems, tabus… all the hidden, ageless patterns and data of sex should be taught so they are incorporated in the common mind and the common behavior.

“Society by then would be sufficiently conscious… productive of responsible individuals, and sufficiently understanding of its own instincts, to govern itself on a world basis and maintain at the same time, peace and liberty. Half of the ill — the psychosomatics — would heal. Prisons and asylums would empty. Common knowledge of psychology would supplant the shortage of psychiatrists. These gentlemen bemoan the incidence of neurosis and madness today. The idea that their science could become the property of home and school would irritate and maybe amuse them: they are haughtily learned.” (Whether they bemoan it as much as exploit it today is another question.)

Is it just another ideal in our search for meaning? Maybe, but it may also be more realistic than any we’ve so far conceived; one that would incorporate the highest achievements of man through education. The subjective complement to objective knowledge, our psychic history, however, is still buried deep in an unconscious religious heritage, far below scientific inquiry, now to peer back at us through fractured ideological and political interests. Only the conflicts and prejudices of the past remain; that we never absorbed its wisdom is plain. 

Wylie saw Jung’s model as a way to heal the schizophrenic effects of ideological differences though attention to our own natures; that we study ourselves as ardently as we study objects. Self-study indicates that we value who we are. That subjective “truth” is, in a scientific age, still defined largely by ideology and ego reflects an undeveloped soul (Russian philosopher, Gurdjieff, described it in the corporate businessman of the 1950′s as a “small, deformed thing”). Why would we give attention to something we don’t value?

As Wylie suggested, the recovery of the soul begins in the confrontation with ego. A recent shift in values was all that was needed to strip the bright veil of Christian ego-worship and expose its underside. The new spiritual authority is now the naked god of technological materialism. Sadly, for the modern scientific world: “… meditating it in the intellect is of little avail.”

How can we be educated in a world where competing ideological interests seek only to capitalize on our lack of development? How do we recover the subject in a world of objects?

Don’t read here if you’re not concerned about the future.

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Psychological Types in the Grocery Bag Industry

I faced the perennial question of ‘paper or plastic?’ once again as I stood in the checkout line at my local Food Arcade. I use both types of bag depending on domestic need (I’m bisacksual), and I happened to select paper on this occasion. As I received the printout from my 99% Club Lead Card (down-graded from my Platinum Card of twenty years ago), I felt the disapproving glares of customers behind me.

The bag-boy sullenly packed my groceries. The cashier eye-balled me with solemn judgment. A man in line piped, “Dude! Save the trees!” and the young girl holding his hand looked up at him, “Does that man hate our eco-system, daddy?” Publicly abashed, I thought about it on the way home. Had my environmental footprint turned me into one of those eco-terrorists I’d read about?

As a boy, I took paper bags for granted; though I still have vague memories of the parchment bags my mother used in the fifties. But, parchment became too expensive for a throw-away society’s created need to buy ever more of the flimsy products which exponentially increased industry profits and left in the wake of its greed the obsolete values of quality and pride once governing the manufacture of a decent product for a reasonable price while at the same time conserving finite resources… 

But, I saw a commercial that said we have more trees now than ever. What about the biodegradability of the paper bag? I heard, too, that it takes twenty-five thousand years for a plastic bag to decompose. I thought about the millions of tons of plastic debris washed onto the world’s coastlines; but also of the vast tracts of baby pine trees sentenced to death in carefully cultivated industry graveyards where all life-forms which might interfere with quick commercial growth have been exterminated.

More confused than ever, I contacted Handel der Sachs, C.E.O. of Grocer’s Choice Unlimited, the world’s top supplier of grocery bags. He said that ‘paper or plastic?’ was the theme of this year’s corporate convention. “We’ve seen a lot of controversy in the bag business over the years,” he said. “The hand grip on the paper bag, for instance, is a sensitive subject for most retailers. Have you ever seen retailers offer both the bag with the hand grip and the one without it?”

I admitted I hadn’t. “Of course you haven’t; you never will. These ideological sub-divisions were mapped out long ago. One can still see examples of it in the old papyrus bags of antiquity. Some of the bags unearthed in Egyptian tombs had hand grips and some didn’t, depending on the beliefs of the reigning king and the merchants serving him. In most essential aspects, the entire history of the grocery bag industry was founded on efforts to mollify these two antithetical ideologies.”

I wondered how the plastic bag had evaded the controversies of the paper bag. “Owing to the schism caused by the hand grip on the paper bag, ” he explained, “the hand grip on the plastic bag was integrated with its conception and was inherent in it. Only that and advertising appeals to the green movement and its fear-based nonsense about “diminishing resources’ allowed it to compete with the paper bag.” It made sense.

He suggested that the hand grip controversy may even have been fueled by the old “Bag Czars” of the mid-twentieth century as a P.R. stunt. “Their ruthless zeal forced the conflict into the forefront long before the Supreme Court ruled that the matter of hand grips was to be decided by the market…. but it never was, and the commercial bag industry remains polarized.

“Some customers provide their own personal hand-totes in an attempt to avoid the conflict… but,” he added, “I strongly advise against it. The average private tote has more bacteria than a construction site Port-a-Potty.” I quickly ruled out the private tote option — however, the question of ‘paper or plastic?’ stubbornly persisted.

He went on to explain how the division rose naturally out of the business itself: “These values run deep in the veins of the individual merchant — they always have — and the split between the two camps has only intensified over time.” My head was spinning. It seemed the more I searched for answers the more complex became the questions. “But what about ‘paper vs. plastic’?” I groped, “What does the data say?”

He looked pensive. “Our own independent study, ‘Eco-system Toxicity and Bio-degradation’ has confirmed what many scientists have long suspected: the pollutants and contaminants inherent in generating and maintaining our current consumption-system require a baseline toxicity level for every product generated by that system; each has a similar effect on the environment — regardless of composition, biodegradability, production quality, or end-use.”

The study revealed an “apparent bio-degradation” which was neither less nor more impactful on the environment than so-called “open bio-degradation.” I was stunned. “So you mean it doesn’t matter which bag I use; its net effect on the  environment is the same?” I couldn’t believe it. “That’s correct.” he said. “The law of quantitative equivalence demands it; the old qualitative analyses only served to obfuscate it…”

He went on, but I could no longer hear him. I was already overwhelmed by more information than I could process. Far outweighing my confusion, however, was the profound sense of relief that humanity’s future rests securely in the hands of science merged in partnership with business and technology to serve the needs of the global community. The issue of ‘paper or plastic?’ suddenly seemed small in comparison.

Is the world too complicated? Where is our perspective on modern values?

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Alchemy: Intellect in Transition

The modern shift from a traditional religious view to an increasingly scientific one drew Jung to alchemy. He saw the psychological aspects of metaphysical symbols as vital counterweights to the literal truths of science in confronting the dangerous challenges of nuclear technology. Why it’s important is rooted in the historical nature of our mental functioning.

His studies led him back to a time when science and religion were not mutually exclusive. Natural philosophy was the unconscious gradient for development in an inquiring medieval mind driven to new ways of thinking about itself and the world.

As many alchemists were invested in the religious and philosophical side of their work, psychic processes were projected into physical analogies. Jung’s in-depth studies of medieval symbolism were an important advance in how we conceive the creativity of the religious factor, its symbolic forms, and their projection onto concrete reality.

For Jung, alchemical philosophy formed a natural continuity in the shift from religion to science. Intuitive ideas pushed it outside Church dogma; less collectively developed and more expressive of natural tendencies. New forms of centuries-old conflicts took shape in a new transitional phase. Modern science now find us at the crossroads of two opposed realities: the causal, material world of the senses and the unconscious psychic energy specific to inner development. Natural law tells us consciousness is relative to both.

Transition means conflict, and the unconscious psyche is ceaselessly engaged in presenting traditional problems in new guise. But, as natural philosophy showed, the depth of relation to an unconscious nature lies far below a dualistic Christian philosophy. It’s not surprising that the medieval search for subjective truth reflects modern conflicts; the new scientific world-view is as collective as the religious one. This psychological translation by Jung of an obscure alchemical allegory expresses it:

“The more you cling to that which all the world desires… you are Everyman, who has not yet discovered himself and stumbles through the world… For desire only burns in you in order to burn itself out, and in and from this fire arises the true living spirit which generates life according to its own laws, and is not blinded by the shortsightedness of our intentions or the crude presumption of our superstitious belief in the will.”

Jung added: “The unconscious demands your interest for its own sake and wants to be accepted for what it is. Once the existence of this opposite is accepted, the ego can and should come to terms with its demands. Unless the content given you by the unconscious is acknowledged, its compensatory effect is not only nullified but actually changes into its opposite, as it then tries to realize itself literally and concretely.”

The mystery of the psyche isn’t a convenient subject (or object) in a scientific age overwhelmed by the vast accrual of technical knowledge. Nature’s wisdom speaks through broad analogies, whether in religious parables or dreams. Its dark uncertainties mean development. Jung examined the thief, a shadow-figure of unconscious individuality:

“The thief… personifies a kind of self-robbery. He is not easily shaken off, as it comes from the habit of thinking supported by tradition and milieu alike: anything that cannot be exploited in some way is uninteresting — hence the devaluation of the psyche. A further reason is the habitual depreciation of everything which one cannot touch with the hands or does not understand.”

The modern techno-commercial market mentality would steal for itself the very foundations of individuality, negating centuries of spiritual effort. Subjective experience is sold back to us through projected emotions which consume more and more of the energy reserved for inner development. Mass ideological conflicts mask a lack of introspection:

“Anyone… who thinks in terms of men minus the individual, in huge numbers, atomizes himself and becomes a thief and a robber to himself… infected with the leprosy of collective thinking…”

Alchemy described the symbolic function of relations between a “masculine” consciousness and a “feminine” unconscious as the “arcane substance”: a mysterious psychic design which mediates the opposites on ever higher levels. The earthly human form was “hermaphroditic and even feminine.” It wasn’t the transsexual image of today but a single body with two heads, male and female, a symbol of spiritual consciousness:

“Because the arcane substance always points to the principal unconscious content… its nature shows in what relation that content stands to consciousness. If the conscious mind has accepted it, it has a positive form, if not, a negative one. If on the other hand the arcane substance is split into two figures, this means that the content has been partly accepted and partly rejected; it is seen under two different and incompatible aspects and is therefore taken to be two different things.”

Alchemical philosophy was an unconscious response to a one-sided Christian philosophy — too collective, otherworldy, and inflated to accept a natural reality: the hidden opposite of earth’s little god. Jung wrote:

“It is the age-old drama of opposites, no matter what they are called, which is fought out in every human life. In our text it is obviously the struggle between the good and the evil spirit, expressed in alchemical language just as today we express it in conflicting ideologies.” The opposite, through concentration: “becomes “fixed” through the mystery… in which the extreme opposites unite, night is wedded with day, and “the two shall be one, and the outside as the inside, and the male with the female neither male nor female.” This apocryphal saying of Jesus from the beginning of the second century is indeed a paradigm for the alchemical union of opposites.”

Continue reading for an example of the living process of coming to terms with the opposite.

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The Devil’s in the Details

In Christianity, the mystery of coming to consciousness irepresented as the expulsion of Adam and Eve from the garden. Jung described the serpent as a symbol of nature’s transformation in a twilight half-human which gradually came into opposition to itself. It didn’t happen suddenly.

Myths contain an ambiguous wealth of unconscious information which can’t be explained discursively. The psyche is a diffuse organ of perception whose wider perspective is supplemented by the focus and detail of consciousness. Beyond rational science lies an irrational pre-history of sensory, emotional, and intuitive functions that point back to a remote past — but, also to the future: the psyche is is a mysterious continuum in which past, present, and future co-exist outside our conscious conception of time. 

In its most urgent sense, the function of life is adaption to immediate reality, though the value of memory-images confirms that an orientation to the past is indispensable for it. But, time-awareness implies possibilities as well. As myths also portend collective tendencies, dreams sketch out possibilities for individual development; it’s how the unconscious deity of wholeness reflects our fate — pardon the subjectivity.

Jung demonstrated how the snake symbolizes instinctual wisdom: the winding by-paths of earth-bound existence, the frightening hidden nature of an animal reality which strikes suddenly from unseen places, the forked tongue of a dual nature which deceives as it yet speaks the truth. As we evolved, so did the image — into a part-human figure as did older animal deities which described the dawn of humanity.

Over the many centuries of evolution depicted in the Old Testament, the serpent reappeared as Satan, much as the Sphinx symbolized the humanization process in Egyptian mythology. It seems crazy to me today that as a youth I was instructed to believe literally in such a mythical figure as had the tail, horns, and hooves of an animal yet to realize its full human potential; though, I see it in myself and the world, still.

For many, it’s difficult to identify anything real in it. To the rationalist and the atheist, it’s merely silly. To the politician and the preacher, it’s more a tool for manipulation. But, even the true believer is coming to doubt its significance in an age of literal material truth. A major shift in consciousness finds it mostly in the museum of outdated fantasy — diffused back into the unconscious — waiting to be re-defined. But, historical analogy is essential for a sense of the symbolic blueprint of unconscious functioning.

In the biblical context, snake and devil condense into one idea the opposition required to accept or reject; to choose amid a world of possibilities in a human prototype slowly awakening from a dreaming instinctual awareness. Expulsion from the garden signified that fateful split from unconscious nature, its secret relations eloquently and poetically portrayed as the drama between god and man.

The last collective image describing the dark side of our natures is that figure of the Devil. Whose mind doesn’t respond to the leering mythical half-beast’s evil grin, the long arrow-headed cat’s tail, the beastly horns, the cloven hooves? These attributes demand to be reassembled in a new way to form any meaning in the strange guise they present. He’s now the scattered and undefined anxiety of fear, chaos, confusion, and projected hostility in the new dawn of an uncertain technological future.

The horns of this fading fantasy figure equate with the forked tongue, and both point to a dual nature: the fork in the head, a form of awareness, though a primitive one; the tongue, an ancient reminder of an opposed consciousness which would question even a god (a property the snake possessed, too, in the ancient trinity of animal, man and deity) — and at the same time, the earthly opposite of the Word of humanity’s highest aspirations.

Someone once told me of a dream he had of this very picture of the devil, its tail twitching like a cat’s tail as it grinned eerily in its sphinx-like repose. It’s this cat-like, feminine quality of repressed emotion which the unconscious seized upon to inform him of his dissociation. The arrow-head on the tail was the piercing depth his unconscious nature intended to point out his rational misconceptions of himself.

The Devil’s unconsciousness is symboled by his dark nature, though his defining color is red. Erich Neumann described redness as instinctual excitation; and the sensuality of material desire now bids our loftiest scientific minds to uncover all its depth — in concrete form. The beast would become human — but it needs the assistance of other psychic functions. Goethe expressed something of the sort in the witch’s kitchen when Faust was in need of a magic potion to make him fall in love: “It’s true the Devil taught her how to do it. And yet the Devil cannot brew it.”

His hooves describe the instinctual foundations of herd-like collective instincts which can easily overpower the freedom of the individual. Jehovah’s commands, however, forbade the eating of herd animals with split hooves, reinforcing the idea of dissociation, but also the need for union which the myth of the garden decreed was the central theme of an individual spiritual life.

These ideas lie in the images as symbolic pointers to our division and the need for a spiritual reconciliation. The depth psychology which unearthed this new way of looking at our histories has only recently been established. The science of it is not yet recognized. 

For an example of how this associative process works below the surface of consciousness, continue reading or visit Amazon.

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Science and Technology: The New Dogma of Repression

“Whether primitive or not, mankind always stands on the brink of actions it performs itself but does not control. The whole world wants peace and the whole world prepares for war…” — Carl Jung

It’s been a century since Jung introduced his theory of psychic energy. It seems little more acknowledged today than then. His psychological adaptation of the laws of physical energy appears as arbitrary to scientific thought as do religious figures or the philosophical paradoxes that occupied minds long ago.

In terms of psychic energy, however, the objective study of things presupposes a subjective fascination which is inseparable from human use and intent. The purposes and direction of a nuclear technology now charge a young psychology with guiding us out of the religious and philosophical cul-de-sac a dissociated intellect proffers in a new atomic age.

What scientists saw as Jung’s mysticism was a new philosophy of science and religion; a comparative history of consciousness with a conceptual view of psychic functioning that stretched the limits of causal thought. His intuitions of humanity’s dark side drew him beyond rational method’s surface applications; for, the “method enjoys greater intellectual recognition than its subject.”

A new dogma of objectivity replaces the old religious one; its images dissolved into a dark, fathomless universe of impersonal and unspeakably violent cosmic forces. Where did the emotional energy we invested in the projections go?

“The matter now seems turned about; the Devil’s in the house and can’t get out.” As Goethe’s Faust echoed two centuries ago, a stark new heavenly mirror stares back at us from a timeless eternity. But, it was Jung who brought a metaphysical religious philosophy down to an earthly psychic reality:  

“… the psyche is so infinitely diverse in its manifestations, so indefinite and unbounded, that the definitions of it are difficult if not impossible to interpret, whereas the definitions based on the mode of observation and on the method derived from it are — or at least should be — known quantities. Psychological research proceeds from these empirically or arbitrarily defined factors and observes the psyche in terms of their alterations. The psyche therefore appears as the disturbance of a probable mode of behavior postulated by one or the other of these methods.”

He stated that “everything depends on the method and its presuppositions and that they largely determine the results.” The method itself is “disturbed by the autonomous behavior of the psyche…” The partial nature of thought can never anticipate instinctive processes; they’re “really unconscious” and will always defy conscious description. 

Allowing the material he observed over decades to form its own picture, Jung postulated his theory of types: sixteen fundamental “realities” in which each can be considered as valid as the others. He emphasized that it was only one of many possible (or “probable”) modes of observation — and again, Goethe’s words echoed in the background: “It’s been a fact of ancient date that men make little worlds within the great.”

He stressed that in practice no classification appears in ideal or abstract form. All things psychic are protean, shifting. They disappear and reappear according to their own laws; one of the reasons psychology is, in the final analysis, more philosophical than scientific. But, such a fluid view allows a timeless psyche to express itself. To relate to this reality on its own terms is to enter a dark world of uncertainty:

“Fear and resistance are the signposts that stand beside the via regia to the unconscious, and it is obvious that what they primarily signify is a preconceived opinion of the thing they are pointing at. It is only natural that from the feeling of fear one should infer something dangerous and from the feeling of resistance something repellent. The patient does so, the public does so, and in the end the analyst does so too… this view naturally conceives the unconscious as consisting of incompatible tendencies which are repressed on account of their immorality.”

But, unconscious compensations presuppose objective functions. Hidden in the religious guilt and the philosophical reflection which would bind together two opposed realities are the images designed to supplement our preconceptions: the dark side of the mental inheritance which makes consciousness relative to a greater mystery. Thanks to an inherited morality and the threat of extinction behind the new technology, we now procreate exponentially faster than we kill each other; though the compulsions for both have not been appreciably altered by either.

The facts of unconscious compensation are a fundamental discovery that lies at the heart of human conflict: the role of consciousness, will, choice, emotion, perception, the Deity; all the ways we relate to ourselves and the world. The depth of human functioning so transcends conscious morality that no statistics, studies, or standardized methods will reveal its unconscious influences on our behavior. 

Psychologically, the incompatible tendencies which disturb our ideals are the most objective appraisals we have, just not quite yet in serviceable form. The new “objective” dogma still sees them in moralistic terms, however: disease, disorder, defect, pathological, and sick are the new good and evil of today’s self-estrangement — and the labels only stick further into the open wound of our religious history…

For an example of how Jung’s energic theory can be applied to the mid-life search for meaning, read more or visit Amazon.

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New Study Links Sleep to Delayed Gratification

“Sleep can have a striking effect on consciousness.” – Ignatius Gestalt

This profound insight is only one among a litany of startling new discoveries by Ignatius Gestalt, recently appointed “fix-man” at Genes-R-Us, the latest of the “new-rological” advertising agencies to attract corporate attention. His studies confirm it and more, and the world of commercial group-think is taking notice:

“The traditional marketing paradigm is yesterday’s news. Experts agree that our conclusions will have sweeping effects on the global consumer-system. While casual observation would assume that end users don’t buy much when they’re asleep,” he chafed, “no one bothered to investigate how the soothing bath of somnambulism could be re-purposed to induce them to buy more than they could possibly need — or even want.”

The principle is a logical extension of the crude commercial advertising of the last century which, too randomly dependent on the irrational factors of individual quirk, was blindly limited to specific target-groups. “This hit-or-miss approach, while still highly profitable, was far less than ideal.” he explained. “Modern neuro-technology will soon serve the unique needs of each customer in the intimacy of the home sleep-setting without the cumbersome intervention of conscious activity.

“Patents are already in the works to serve today’s ‘omni-consumer’ whom the old ‘shot-in-the-dark’ market psychology left confused and adrift amid the chaos of conscious choice. Our advanced neurological approach would release the energy of pent-up anxieties for more creative pursuits than the tedious and mundane physical chores once required for life’s maintenance — that’s what tech support’s for. The new science of technology tells us that the body’s primary function is sensual gratification; its utilitarian value obsolete.”

He dished up the nuts and bolts of modern neuro-tech’s bold new applications: “Recent advancements in the electrode now allow us to track the subconscious wishes of consumers via non-invasive skin implants — decorative ‘ecto-versions’ will also be available — and coordinate them with a grid of compatible products. A personalized marketing inventory would then be specifically tailored to individual need. Upon waking, a printout of the end user’s deepest existential concerns would be instantly available in material form. 

“If certain retailers or brand-names are confirmed in advance, the consumer-mark could simply press the call-in button on his/her ‘Night Register’ and the products would arrive by door-step drone on the following business day. If a more hands-on need gratification is preferred, starred, prioritized outlines would conveniently provide directions to the nearest fulfillment center for the catering of his/her most profound desires. It will revolutionize the way the market has approached advertising in the past.”

A ‘Super Saver Plan’ would be assigned to each subscriber, identifiable by Social Security number and a customized ‘Buyer Status’ profile. ‘Consumer Options’ would deliver notices of impending sales events and other such crucial considerations. Depending on economic circumstances, lower-cost alternatives would appear according to that individual’s available credit-line.

“It’s a whole new concept based on the expanding spirit of the ‘ultra-individual’ in today’s culture.” he crowed. “The very sphincter of society is gripped by this ultra-spirit, and the credit service industry must be intimately partnered with theoretical science and applied technology if it is to continue to serve the changing demands of human evolution in the twenty-first century.

“Its impact on the quality of family life will exceed even that of the T.V. dinner.” he avowed. “The notion that we could actually experience what we buy — as things in themselves far beyond any utilitarian vantage-point — and share those experiences with our families was inconceivable outside the context of today’s insights. Modern psychological investigations suggest that we are what we buy. What more personal way to connect with our families and friends than through the shared identification with the products we love and adore?”

Credit reports or ‘Consumer Indices’ would no longer be the sole province of anonymous ‘powers’ but openly shared as consumer and retailer work hand in hand to maintain the credit he/she works a lifetime to enjoy. “If you‘re just starting out as a credit-service variable,” he assured, “consumer counselors will work to establish immediate credit with an eye toward creating options for the future.”

Each step in the construction of the consumer’s ‘market ontology’ would be uniquely fitted to ‘life-style differentials’ as his/her ‘Personal Concierge’ blinks real-time appraisals of market conditions and the availability of products from the nightstand. A convenient off-sensor will deactivate the system when the consumer’s energy level is low and reactivate it according to the psycho-galvanic ennervations of his or her own custom, statistically-derived wake-sleep cycle. 

“Commercial psychology has labored under a negative persona in the past, largely a product of subjective bias; but, thanks to a new empiricism, it’s no longer shameful to admit that we’re subject to brain processes outside conscious control. Shoppers now have the objective evaluations needed for informed decision-making — to take control of their own consumption. 

“The future is now. If we don’t take advantage of the opportunities this new knowledge offers, the earth’s resources will only continue to be squandered by our children and grandchildren. For contemporary culture to accept the filthy end of the evolutionary stick now would only be setting them up for failure.”

If you’re searching for a way out of the modern maze, you’ll need a map. Jung furnished one. Read one small example of where it may lead.

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Jung on the Religious Factor

In Psychological Types, Jung traced the development of Western theology from the East-West schism in the eleventh century to Martin Luther’s Protestant Reformation in the 1500′s to such a proliferation of isms today as would rival the world’s entire mythological pantheon. Add a legion of political ideologies and as many personal beliefs as there are hairs on the Cosmic Cow’s body, and you get an idea of evolution’s tendencies. 

Historically, religion is so intimately bound to individual development that the idea of the soul was integral to its philosophy. That’s changed. Reality falls short of ideal in all human behavior; today, however, the pretense has been dropped altogether, and the church is more a social-commercial institution than a path to spiritual communion.

A new collective ego-ideal replaces the older view, and the higher spiritual authority once presupposed in the soul now yields to the science-fiction of objectivity and its shadow-side: the lures of commercial need-invention, social marketing, object-identification, and sensual gratification. But, below these reactions to the cult of reason, where do the real changes originate?

Jung wrote in The Practice Of Psychotherapy“The positive meaning of the religious factor in a man’s philosophical outlook will not… prevent certain views and interpretations from losing their force and becoming obsolete, as a result of changes in the times, in the social conditions, and in the development of human consciousness. The old mythologems upon which all religion is ultimately based are… the expression of inner psychic events and experiences… they enable the conscious mind to preserve its link with the unconscious, which continues to send out… primordial images just as it did in the remote past.

“These images give adequate expression to the unconscious, and its instinctive movements can in that way be transmitted to the conscious mind without friction… If, however, certain of these images become antiquated, if… they lose all intelligible connection with our contemporary consciousness, then our conscious acts of choice and decision are sundered from their instinctive roots, and a partial disorientation results, because our judgment then lacks any feeling of definiteness and certitude, and there is no emotional driving force behind the decision.”

Psychologically, divine (or numinous) refers to the unconscious feelings that attract consciousness to its development. Despite its negative connotations, instinct means natural functioning, and “animal” and “divine” are two opposite poles of an age-old psychic continuum. Without a sense of the symbolic function that would reconcile conscious contradictions to psychic reality, inner conflicts are projected onto external situations.

When enough people project enough unconscious emotion into ideological differences, they more closely resemble animals than divine beings. Somewhere in between the two lies a divine animal, and the extremes require an individual function to mediate them. We know how the unconscious group mind reacts to them.

“The collective representations that connect primitive man with the life of his ancestors… form the bridge to the unconscious for the civilized man also, who, if he is a believer, will see it as the world of divine presences. Today these bridges are in a state of partial collapse, and the doctor is in no position to hold those who are worse hit responsible for the disaster. He knows that it is due far more to a shifting of the whole psychic situation over many centuries, such as happened more than once in human history. In the face of such transformations the individual is powerless. The doctor can only look on and try to understand the attempts at restitution and cure which nature herself is making.

“… the unconscious produces compensating symbols which are meant to replace the broken bridges, but which can only do so with the active cooperation of consciousness. In other words, these symbols must, if they are to be effective, be “understood” by the conscious mind… A dream that is not understood remains a mere occurrence; understood, it becomes a living experience.”

Intellectual comprehension and emotional experience are different forms of understanding. The soul is a function of relation to both worlds; when it loses value as a guiding idea, the loss is compensated by an exaggerated certainty and a dangerous over-confidence in consciousness: the “partial disorientation” to which Jung referred:

“I therefore consider it my main task to examine the manifestations of the unconscious in order to learn its language. But since, on the one hand, the theoretical assumptions we have spoken of are of eminently historical interest, and, on the other hand, the symbols produced by the unconscious derive from archaic modes of psychic functioning, one must… have at one’s command a vast amount of historical material; and secondly, one must bring together and collate an equally large amount of empirical material based on direct observation.

“… I have come to the conclusion that the most individual thing about man is surely his consciousness… but that his shadow, by which I mean the uppermost layer of his unconscious, is far less individualized, the reason being that a man is distinguished from his fellows more by his virtues than his negative qualities. The unconscious, however, in its principal and most overpowering manifestations, can only be regarded as a collective phenomenon… and because it never seems to be at variance with itself, it may well possess a marvellous unity and self-consistency, the nature of which is at present shrouded in impenetrable darkness.”

As an intellectual function, science must repress emotion — and with it, the role it plays in conscious value-formation. When the soul is twisted into an impersonal object without a history, the individual’s creative attempts at solutions to inner problems is lost to the collective. The dialogue between them — a mirror of exchange between conscious and unconscious — is shut off.

The commercial deception and manipulation; the political double-talk, violence and ideological greed, the exaggerated certainty of the new extraversion: are these the spiritual legacy the Sons of Abraham will leave for their children?

Read a poetic example of how this inner dialogue begins.

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