José Martí was a national hero in Cuba's struggle for independence from Spain. He was also a poet, essayist, philosopher, & journalist.
Peregrino por el mundo con una lira, una pluma y una espada. Cantó, habló, combatió: dejó por todas partes chispas de su numen, rasgos de su fantasía, pedazos de su corazón; pero en cualquier ruta, por todos los senderos, su vista estaba fíia en la solitaria estrella, que simboliza su honda y perptua aspiración de hogar y patria. De su poesía se exhale un perfume sutil la nostalgia del desterrado. Cuando su pluma corre sin freno sobre el papel, cuando su palabra se desborda desde la tribuna, adivina qué lo aguija, qué lo impulsa, la visión distante de Cuba que lo llama, y le pide que escriba para ella, y alumbre las conciencias y encienda los corazónes. Aquí está la nota profunda de su alma y la unidad perfecta de su vida. Martí poeta, orador, catedrático, agente consular, periodista, agitador, conspirador, estadista y soldado, no fue en el fondo y siempre sino Martí patriota. (Enrique José Varona)
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Sunday, April 24, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Helen Mirren's Prospera & Lessons on Crafting the Persona
Helen Mirren’s Prospera & Lessons on Crafting the Persona
“Our revels now are ended. These our actors,
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air…”.
No doubt Helen Mirren’s Prospera injected something quite different into Shakespeare’s character and it was Mirren’s idea to flip the genders. So what has this to do with Jung’s concept of persona?
In Jung’s Map of the Soul: An Introduction Murray Stein discussion of shadow and persona makes these two rich, complicated contents of psyche approachable. He likens shadow and persona to twins that “… are usually more or less opposites of one another…” Persona is a complex that “… possesses considerable autonomy and is not under the full control of the ego. Once in role, the actor rattles off his or her lines willy-nilly and often without much consciousness”. But Mirren took a traditionally male role and breathed her own special, evocative spirit into Prospero and it became Prospera. In this liminal domain, where actors impose a higher than usual degree of intentionality, where there is a descent into a well crafted character, we may gain insights about individuation as it relates to the persona.
According to Dr. Stein “The persona makes casual social interaction go more easily…” Jung acknowledges that while we are not all “multiple personalities” we do show “traces of character splitting” (Jung, Coll Wks., Vol.6, par.799.). There is some fluidity to the degree of identification the ego has with different roles it plays. Stein notes that role identification is “… generally motivated by ambition and social aspiration”. It seems that the ego does not deliberately chose to identify with a particular persona but this is where Helen Mirren’s portrayal of Prospera informs us of a new possibility.
Dr. Stein notes that there a two pitfalls that can occur in the development of the persona, over-identification that involves undue adaptation to the social world and the failure to pay enough attention to the external object world thereby becoming too involved with the inner world. He goes on to point out that with age, new personas appear. But this suggests a passive process.
Perhaps that is all we can hope for, that our persona might keep pace with the changing demands of life, our own aging process, and the changing demands of society. But if Helen Mirren can shed new light on Prospero, then I have hope of injecting new life into the character of Len.
Persona is a complex and therefore, easy to relegate to the domains governed by unconscious forces. But let me attempt to illuminate persona with conscious intention. The actor must strike a balance between her own personality and the portrayal of the character she plays. We may use a similar approach to work upon our persona. Beyond the passive appearance of the persona lies our capacity to craft the persona like actors do. Such an enterprise may promote the process of individuation.
What I am proposing is reminiscent of the effort by ego-psychologists to extend classical psychoanalytic theory. We can endeavor, through conscious, intentional effort, to fashion a persona informed by other analytic work.
On March 31, 2011, Dr. Murray Stein will present “Caring for the Soul: An Introduction to Jungian Psychotherapy for Patients & Therapists”.
For more information http://ashevillejungcenter.org/upcoming-events/ . Whether or not you expect to attend the conference you will find Dr. Stein’s book, Jung’s Map of the Soul: An Introduction a valuable resource for understanding Jung’s extensive body of writings. In the introduction to the book, Dr. Stein quotes one of my favorite authors (therefore the dual translation):
“You could timidly explore the coasts of Africa to the south, but going west there was nothing except fear, the unknown, not “our sea” but the Sea of Mystery, Mare Ignotum.”
Carlos Fuentes The Buried Mirror
“Se podía explorar tímidamente las costas de África hacia el sur, pero hacia el oeste no había nada más que miedo, no «nuestro mar» sino el Mar de Misterio, Mare Ignotum.”
Carlos Fuentes El espejo enterrado
Se encuentra la primera parte del libro “El Mapa del Alma Según Jung” en la página del internet http://www.adepac.org/P06-90.htm .
Len Cruz, MD
As I foretold you, were all spirits and
Are melted into air, into thin air…”.
No doubt Helen Mirren’s Prospera injected something quite different into Shakespeare’s character and it was Mirren’s idea to flip the genders. So what has this to do with Jung’s concept of persona?
In Jung’s Map of the Soul: An Introduction Murray Stein discussion of shadow and persona makes these two rich, complicated contents of psyche approachable. He likens shadow and persona to twins that “… are usually more or less opposites of one another…” Persona is a complex that “… possesses considerable autonomy and is not under the full control of the ego. Once in role, the actor rattles off his or her lines willy-nilly and often without much consciousness”. But Mirren took a traditionally male role and breathed her own special, evocative spirit into Prospero and it became Prospera. In this liminal domain, where actors impose a higher than usual degree of intentionality, where there is a descent into a well crafted character, we may gain insights about individuation as it relates to the persona.
According to Dr. Stein “The persona makes casual social interaction go more easily…” Jung acknowledges that while we are not all “multiple personalities” we do show “traces of character splitting” (Jung, Coll Wks., Vol.6, par.799.). There is some fluidity to the degree of identification the ego has with different roles it plays. Stein notes that role identification is “… generally motivated by ambition and social aspiration”. It seems that the ego does not deliberately chose to identify with a particular persona but this is where Helen Mirren’s portrayal of Prospera informs us of a new possibility.
Dr. Stein notes that there a two pitfalls that can occur in the development of the persona, over-identification that involves undue adaptation to the social world and the failure to pay enough attention to the external object world thereby becoming too involved with the inner world. He goes on to point out that with age, new personas appear. But this suggests a passive process.
Perhaps that is all we can hope for, that our persona might keep pace with the changing demands of life, our own aging process, and the changing demands of society. But if Helen Mirren can shed new light on Prospero, then I have hope of injecting new life into the character of Len.
Persona is a complex and therefore, easy to relegate to the domains governed by unconscious forces. But let me attempt to illuminate persona with conscious intention. The actor must strike a balance between her own personality and the portrayal of the character she plays. We may use a similar approach to work upon our persona. Beyond the passive appearance of the persona lies our capacity to craft the persona like actors do. Such an enterprise may promote the process of individuation.
What I am proposing is reminiscent of the effort by ego-psychologists to extend classical psychoanalytic theory. We can endeavor, through conscious, intentional effort, to fashion a persona informed by other analytic work.
On March 31, 2011, Dr. Murray Stein will present “Caring for the Soul: An Introduction to Jungian Psychotherapy for Patients & Therapists”.
For more information http://ashevillejungcenter.org/upcoming-events/ . Whether or not you expect to attend the conference you will find Dr. Stein’s book, Jung’s Map of the Soul: An Introduction a valuable resource for understanding Jung’s extensive body of writings. In the introduction to the book, Dr. Stein quotes one of my favorite authors (therefore the dual translation):
“You could timidly explore the coasts of Africa to the south, but going west there was nothing except fear, the unknown, not “our sea” but the Sea of Mystery, Mare Ignotum.”
Carlos Fuentes The Buried Mirror
“Se podía explorar tímidamente las costas de África hacia el sur, pero hacia el oeste no había nada más que miedo, no «nuestro mar» sino el Mar de Misterio, Mare Ignotum.”
Carlos Fuentes El espejo enterrado
Se encuentra la primera parte del libro “El Mapa del Alma Según Jung” en la página del internet http://www.adepac.org/P06-90.htm .
Len Cruz, MD
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Remebrance of Things Past
Remembrance of Things Past
A friend of mine who has lost two parents and a brother in the past half dozen years recently began to reconnect with friends from his high school days. As I listened to him tell me about some of the things this had brought up, ideas occurred to me that I wanted to share because they reflect some principles we can all learn from.
The ensemble of characters cast in the dramas of their early years, now often referred to as the family of origin, were not cast in those roles for the rest of our lives. My friend's recent losses awakened in him a new found willingness to fashion a different ensemble of characters, one better suited to today. My friend's brother suffered a severe, persistent mental illness for more than forty years depriving my friend of many aspects of brotherly love he might otherwise have enjoyed. My friend was recreating a family.
We have all heard stories of individuals who overcome the wounds of childhood through a corrective experience in their adult years. A man who suffered unspeakable abuse from a tyrannical father is watched over by a teacher, a coach, or a boss and before long his pain is assuaged and the wounds begin to heal. Or perhaps we hear of a woman subjected to vicious and belittle attacks from a mother whose tenuous self-esteem was sustained by denigrating her defenseless daughter who is made right by a teacher or coworker who sees past the wounds to a realm the woman scarcely knew existed. There is a deep hunger to be mothered or fathered that does not leave us when we leave the first cast of characters in our life. But even when the stories are not so dire there we may benefit from a willing to keep an open casting call for characters in the current dramas of our life.
Principle 1: The opportunity to replace the members of our cast is often missed.
One of the guys with whom my friend had connected was a Jewish friend who had been a close buddy in grade school. They grew up in a town that was predominantly Irish and Italian. One day when the boys were in sixth grade, my friend said something anti-Semitic to hurt his Jewish friend's feelings. They must have gotten past it at the time because they remained acquaintances and partied together and high together in high school.
Nearly forty years later, these two boys reconnected and my friend took a courageous step by bringing up that fateful day when they were in sixth grade and he said something at changed their friendship forever. My friend apologized! His buddy let him know in the clearest way he knew that he did not even remember the remark or the day in question. My friend apologized again trying to reassure his high school mate that he did not grow up to be an anti-Semite. The guy told my friend he should let it go and that if he was seeking forgiveness for a crime that was not even remembered, he had it!
This brings me to another principle revealed in my friend's recent rekindling of high school friendships. We carry into our adult years countless regrets, shaming moments, and things that weigh us down. My friend was fortunate to have had the chance to surrender one of those ancient afflictions. But what about all the ones he carries that involve people he may never see again. If our capacity to release ourselves from neurotic guilt depends on the person we wronged or failed when we were younger we are likely to miss opportunities to release the flotsam and jetsam of our past.
if you were to meet someone from your past, someone you had wronged or injured consider, what can we expect. Perhaps like my friend, you would discover you had made a mountain out of a molehill and that the aggrieved party did not even remember the event that had weighed you down. Of course, your actions might have had a profound and untoward impact upon the person you wronged. If that is the case, you will find that they have either worked through the matter or they may have carried that wound around like a disfiguring scar. (I am assuming that you have outgrown, transcended, suspended, or otherwise dealt with whatever behavior or tendency that caused you to behave badly. If not, you may deserve suffer a bit.) But if you have changed from the person you were, then you need not carry around neurotic guilt.
Principle 2: Don't wait to meet the person you've wronged to receive the forgiveness you need!
My friend was deeply moved by the fact that many of his friends had traversed similar paths In their lives as the ones he had traversed. In several instances, he was aware of forks in the road of life where he and the newly rediscovered friends had similar choices to make or challenges to meet. What he learned was that while each one of us has a story that is unique many of the elements of our story turn out to be universal. It is a good idea to remember that our story is uniquely ours. But it also helps to remember that our story is likely to have quite a bit in common with other's stories. Principle 3: What happens to us is seldom a first nor will it be a last.
Finally, my friend admitted to ambivalent feelings about the way his high school friends were reaching out to him. He had missed a high school reunion and his friend. One of them told my friend how much that he and a few of others had wanted to get together again and include him. My friend admitted that the prospects of rekindling these old acquaintances as real friendships provoked a mixture of feelings he was was unprepared for. He was deeply touched by their longing to be close but like Pandora's box, the invitation had loosed a fury of old maladies. He felt some of the same emotions he thought he had left behind in high school. I don't know whether my friend will take another step toward intimacy with his old chums; I hope he does. No matter how old we are, some of the same struggles to love and be loved will hang around. The question will one day become clear that we don't have to act like we did when we youngsters. Regardless of what he chooses, there was a lesson revealed in his ambivalence.
Principle 4: Be real, follow your heart, and open your heart to love.
A friend of mine who has lost two parents and a brother in the past half dozen years recently began to reconnect with friends from his high school days. As I listened to him tell me about some of the things this had brought up, ideas occurred to me that I wanted to share because they reflect some principles we can all learn from.
The ensemble of characters cast in the dramas of their early years, now often referred to as the family of origin, were not cast in those roles for the rest of our lives. My friend's recent losses awakened in him a new found willingness to fashion a different ensemble of characters, one better suited to today. My friend's brother suffered a severe, persistent mental illness for more than forty years depriving my friend of many aspects of brotherly love he might otherwise have enjoyed. My friend was recreating a family.
We have all heard stories of individuals who overcome the wounds of childhood through a corrective experience in their adult years. A man who suffered unspeakable abuse from a tyrannical father is watched over by a teacher, a coach, or a boss and before long his pain is assuaged and the wounds begin to heal. Or perhaps we hear of a woman subjected to vicious and belittle attacks from a mother whose tenuous self-esteem was sustained by denigrating her defenseless daughter who is made right by a teacher or coworker who sees past the wounds to a realm the woman scarcely knew existed. There is a deep hunger to be mothered or fathered that does not leave us when we leave the first cast of characters in our life. But even when the stories are not so dire there we may benefit from a willing to keep an open casting call for characters in the current dramas of our life.
Principle 1: The opportunity to replace the members of our cast is often missed.
One of the guys with whom my friend had connected was a Jewish friend who had been a close buddy in grade school. They grew up in a town that was predominantly Irish and Italian. One day when the boys were in sixth grade, my friend said something anti-Semitic to hurt his Jewish friend's feelings. They must have gotten past it at the time because they remained acquaintances and partied together and high together in high school.
Nearly forty years later, these two boys reconnected and my friend took a courageous step by bringing up that fateful day when they were in sixth grade and he said something at changed their friendship forever. My friend apologized! His buddy let him know in the clearest way he knew that he did not even remember the remark or the day in question. My friend apologized again trying to reassure his high school mate that he did not grow up to be an anti-Semite. The guy told my friend he should let it go and that if he was seeking forgiveness for a crime that was not even remembered, he had it!
This brings me to another principle revealed in my friend's recent rekindling of high school friendships. We carry into our adult years countless regrets, shaming moments, and things that weigh us down. My friend was fortunate to have had the chance to surrender one of those ancient afflictions. But what about all the ones he carries that involve people he may never see again. If our capacity to release ourselves from neurotic guilt depends on the person we wronged or failed when we were younger we are likely to miss opportunities to release the flotsam and jetsam of our past.
if you were to meet someone from your past, someone you had wronged or injured consider, what can we expect. Perhaps like my friend, you would discover you had made a mountain out of a molehill and that the aggrieved party did not even remember the event that had weighed you down. Of course, your actions might have had a profound and untoward impact upon the person you wronged. If that is the case, you will find that they have either worked through the matter or they may have carried that wound around like a disfiguring scar. (I am assuming that you have outgrown, transcended, suspended, or otherwise dealt with whatever behavior or tendency that caused you to behave badly. If not, you may deserve suffer a bit.) But if you have changed from the person you were, then you need not carry around neurotic guilt.
Principle 2: Don't wait to meet the person you've wronged to receive the forgiveness you need!
My friend was deeply moved by the fact that many of his friends had traversed similar paths In their lives as the ones he had traversed. In several instances, he was aware of forks in the road of life where he and the newly rediscovered friends had similar choices to make or challenges to meet. What he learned was that while each one of us has a story that is unique many of the elements of our story turn out to be universal. It is a good idea to remember that our story is uniquely ours. But it also helps to remember that our story is likely to have quite a bit in common with other's stories. Principle 3: What happens to us is seldom a first nor will it be a last.
Finally, my friend admitted to ambivalent feelings about the way his high school friends were reaching out to him. He had missed a high school reunion and his friend. One of them told my friend how much that he and a few of others had wanted to get together again and include him. My friend admitted that the prospects of rekindling these old acquaintances as real friendships provoked a mixture of feelings he was was unprepared for. He was deeply touched by their longing to be close but like Pandora's box, the invitation had loosed a fury of old maladies. He felt some of the same emotions he thought he had left behind in high school. I don't know whether my friend will take another step toward intimacy with his old chums; I hope he does. No matter how old we are, some of the same struggles to love and be loved will hang around. The question will one day become clear that we don't have to act like we did when we youngsters. Regardless of what he chooses, there was a lesson revealed in his ambivalence.
Principle 4: Be real, follow your heart, and open your heart to love.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Home and Archteype: A Book Review of "At Home in the World"
Home and Archetype: A Review of “At Home in the World”
When John Hill performed the role of Father Victor White in The Jung-White Letters, he seemed possessed by the spirit of the man. In John Hill’s recent publication, At Home in the World: Sounds and Symmetries of Belonging, leaves me wondering if he has now been possessed by an entire cloud of witnesses comprised of Irish poets spanning centuries. There is a lyrical quality that pervades the book and the publisher, Spring Journal Books, has done a marvelous job with the layout, cover design, the references, and every detail of the book. Perhaps John Hill pulled his inspiration from a Fairy fort but the result is magical.
As the February 4th conference Architecture of the Soul: The Inner & Outer Structures of C G Jung, (with Murray Stein & Andreas Jung) approaches, this is a timely read. Hill’s scholarship is systematic and rigorous, but the book is replete with powerful and evocative language. Hill gently weaves into the text many others who have shaped and influenced him like Paul Ricouer, Ernst Cassirer, along with one of my favorite fiction writers, Jhumpa Lahiri. The thesis of his book may appear self-evident but I could not have imagined the depth and breadth of material I found in this book.
John Hill has been practicing Jungian Psychoanalysis for forty years and it shows. He has been devoted to matters of the spirit even longer. The reader will enjoy the subtle, perceptive way Hill incorporates clinical material from client’s dreams and narratives. It is refreshing to encounter a writer who also lays himself bare to the reader without crossing the line into self-indulgence that can easily become a spectacle. This is an analyst who comprehends that self-disclosure, even within the pages of a book, can be a powerful tool and unwieldy tool.
Modernity has ushered in unprecedented opportunities for homeowners to furnish their in a cohesive style sold as a package. Some furniture retailers make it easy to avoid making mistake by standardizing entire groupings of furnishings. IKEA is not unique in its ability to commoditize home furnishings and to impart a sense to its customers that a unique look can be achieved on a budget. The sheer volume and global reach of an IKEA testifies to the inclination to make a home unique through elements that are in fact standardized. Such a home, according to Hill, “….is without a soul.”
In contrast, we will have the opportunity coming up on February 4th to participate in a conference whose outer, visible subject is
The Home of C. G. Jung. After reading Hill’s, At Home in the World: Sounds and Symmetries of Belonging, I suspect the upcoming conference presented through Asheville Jung Center will end up being about our own magnum opus, our home. We each approach this differently, just as we each approach the magnum opus of our individuation differently. For some, the reliance on a standard assortment of furnishings provides a personal space that avoid too much personal disclosure but also impedes personal discovery. For others, the home provides a platform of self-expression. There are homes I have entered where I could sense the disconnection between the soul of its inhabitants and the structure itself. There are limitless permutations for combining the inner dimensions of our being and the outer structure of our home. And according to John Hill, “When a home becomes a mere product, dissociated from one’s own personal and collective history, it is probably in danger of losing its soul.” (pg11)
Some individuals delight in assembling elements into a home. They strive for that ineluctable symmetry between the inner call of the soul and the outer manifestation of their home. When we speak of homemaking as a function of managing the household we miss the much deeper connection between the demands of keeping things going in a family and the making of a home. Hill notes, “We live in a world that offers us two different ways of seeing it — one functional and the other symbolic.” (pg47) It seems there as many different modus operandi for fashioning a home as there are styles of composition, materials and technique for the artist.
Good teachers like John Hill convey complex subjects in clearly understandable ways. The five or six pages on transference provide a good illustration and despite their conciseness Hill does not sacrifice the rich, evocative quality of his prose.
Images alone do not necessarily address key psychological issues or cross the great divide between Thou and I … (pg112)
Often in the deep constellations of transference and countertransference, the client finds the opportunities to relive much of the past. … The analyst must realize that he cannot indulge in the fantasy of providing a home for all those who need one. (pg113)
I live on the hyphen as a Cuban-American. My soul has one foot firmly planted in the United States of America where I was born while the other foot, the one possessed of dreams of return to an island I have never known, has nowhere to step. Countless others share my experience of life on the hyphen. The nations that bookend their hyphen do not separate us nearly as much as the hyphen unites us. We who are hyphenated are a diaspora in our own right. We are caught between two homes the one we left and the one where we dwell. But we are all likely to find ourselves somewhere along the continuum of a home we have known, a home we know now, and a home that awaits us.
Salmon Rushdie writes that, “Exile is a dream of a glorious return.” Like Odysseus, we may find ourselves in a seemingly endless pursuit of a return home. John Hill reveals to us some of the personal details of his own life away from his native Ireland without being mawkish. At Home in the World would be wonderful preparation for the upcoming conference Architecture of the Soul: The Inner & Outer Structures of CG Jung, (with Murray Stein & Andreas Jung). It will also be a great resource for anyone interested in the psychological implications and underpinnings of home from a Jungian perspective.
John Hill gave a gifted performance of Father Victor White in The Jung White Letters that moved me to examine the chords that resonated through Jung’s relationship with Sigmund Freud and later Father White. It also deeply moved me to consider what chords resonate through my relationships with men in my life. Now At Home in the World has moved me to examine from a fresh perspective my relationship to place. It has stirred a renewed interest in exploring the spaces and structures, past, present, and future that are called home in my life. Hill’s last paragraph reads like a closing hymn in prose and here he reveals a dream that arrived as he brought the book to completion.
… All at once the dream flashed across my mind, and I “knew” what it was trying to say.
…The house was my book on home. The brickwork symbolized the thoughts and ideas of others who had influenced me, and contributed to its making. The rough-hewn stones indicated that the work was connected with my identity.
… I have built the house from the materials of the earth. It is a house that contains, but it is also open to the world and to the spirit. Hopefully it can be an object of delight and contemplation, not just for me, but also for all who have crossed its threshold, so that you, dear reader, may appreciate your own home in new and creative ways.
Invitation
Take a moment to consider the word “home”. Let your imagination run free and let yourself be transported to homes you have occupied, homes you have wished to occupy, homes you have left, homes you have awaiting you in the future. Consider what home means in your interior life and notice where the interior experience or awareness of home is in sync with the structure you call home and where the two seem out of sync. Please consider posting a comment about “home” so that we might open the doors and let one another peak in.
Len Cruz, MD
At Home in the World
John Hill has been practicing Jungian Psychoanalysis for forty years and it shows. He has been devoted to matters of the spirit even longer. The reader will enjoy the subtle, perceptive way Hill incorporates clinical material from client’s dreams and narratives. It is refreshing to encounter a writer who also lays himself bare to the reader without crossing the line into self-indulgence that can easily become a spectacle. This is an analyst who comprehends that self-disclosure, even within the pages of a book, can be a powerful tool and unwieldy tool.
Modernity has ushered in unprecedented opportunities for homeowners to furnish their in a cohesive style sold as a package. Some furniture retailers make it easy to avoid making mistake by standardizing entire groupings of furnishings. IKEA is not unique in its ability to commoditize home furnishings and to impart a sense to its customers that a unique look can be achieved on a budget. The sheer volume and global reach of an IKEA testifies to the inclination to make a home unique through elements that are in fact standardized. Such a home, according to Hill, “….is without a soul.”
In contrast, we will have the opportunity coming up on February 4th to participate in a conference whose outer, visible subject is
The House of Jung
Some individuals delight in assembling elements into a home. They strive for that ineluctable symmetry between the inner call of the soul and the outer manifestation of their home. When we speak of homemaking as a function of managing the household we miss the much deeper connection between the demands of keeping things going in a family and the making of a home. Hill notes, “We live in a world that offers us two different ways of seeing it — one functional and the other symbolic.” (pg47) It seems there as many different modus operandi for fashioning a home as there are styles of composition, materials and technique for the artist.
Good teachers like John Hill convey complex subjects in clearly understandable ways. The five or six pages on transference provide a good illustration and despite their conciseness Hill does not sacrifice the rich, evocative quality of his prose.
Images alone do not necessarily address key psychological issues or cross the great divide between Thou and I … (pg112)
Often in the deep constellations of transference and countertransference, the client finds the opportunities to relive much of the past. … The analyst must realize that he cannot indulge in the fantasy of providing a home for all those who need one. (pg113)
I live on the hyphen as a Cuban-American. My soul has one foot firmly planted in the United States of America where I was born while the other foot, the one possessed of dreams of return to an island I have never known, has nowhere to step. Countless others share my experience of life on the hyphen. The nations that bookend their hyphen do not separate us nearly as much as the hyphen unites us. We who are hyphenated are a diaspora in our own right. We are caught between two homes the one we left and the one where we dwell. But we are all likely to find ourselves somewhere along the continuum of a home we have known, a home we know now, and a home that awaits us.
Salmon Rushdie writes that, “Exile is a dream of a glorious return.” Like Odysseus, we may find ourselves in a seemingly endless pursuit of a return home. John Hill reveals to us some of the personal details of his own life away from his native Ireland without being mawkish. At Home in the World would be wonderful preparation for the upcoming conference Architecture of the Soul: The Inner & Outer Structures of CG Jung, (with Murray Stein & Andreas Jung). It will also be a great resource for anyone interested in the psychological implications and underpinnings of home from a Jungian perspective.
John Hill gave a gifted performance of Father Victor White in The Jung White Letters that moved me to examine the chords that resonated through Jung’s relationship with Sigmund Freud and later Father White. It also deeply moved me to consider what chords resonate through my relationships with men in my life. Now At Home in the World has moved me to examine from a fresh perspective my relationship to place. It has stirred a renewed interest in exploring the spaces and structures, past, present, and future that are called home in my life. Hill’s last paragraph reads like a closing hymn in prose and here he reveals a dream that arrived as he brought the book to completion.
… All at once the dream flashed across my mind, and I “knew” what it was trying to say.
…The house was my book on home. The brickwork symbolized the thoughts and ideas of others who had influenced me, and contributed to its making. The rough-hewn stones indicated that the work was connected with my identity.
… I have built the house from the materials of the earth. It is a house that contains, but it is also open to the world and to the spirit. Hopefully it can be an object of delight and contemplation, not just for me, but also for all who have crossed its threshold, so that you, dear reader, may appreciate your own home in new and creative ways.
Invitation
Take a moment to consider the word “home”. Let your imagination run free and let yourself be transported to homes you have occupied, homes you have wished to occupy, homes you have left, homes you have awaiting you in the future. Consider what home means in your interior life and notice where the interior experience or awareness of home is in sync with the structure you call home and where the two seem out of sync. Please consider posting a comment about “home” so that we might open the doors and let one another peak in.
Len Cruz, MD
Sunday, January 16, 2011
CROESUS SYNDROME: The Shadow in Psychotherapy
CROESUS SYNDROME: The Shadow in Psychotherapy
What, if anything, can the psychoanalyst or psychotherapist do to contend with the shadow aspects of their professional persona? This is by no means a universal concern among psychotherapists for several reasons. Certainly there are many persons practicing forms of psychotherapy that do not regard the unconscious as their concern at all. Behavioral, cognitive, and solutions-oriented therapies, to name a few, have no need of the unconscious. I am reminded of one of my supervisors in residency who attempted to encourage me to face facts squarely about a certain repeated conflict I was experiencing.
He pointed out:
"It's entirely up to you whether or not you choose to ignore reality; the question is, will reality ignore you?".
Likewise, modern therapies that emphasize ego adaptation are free to ignore the unconscious; the question remains; however, will the unconscious ignore the therapy?
A psychotherapist in training is more likely to remain in contact with their unconscious. Formal supervision, whether or not it intends to examine the psychotherapist's unconscious, may provide a measure of scrutiny to the psychotherapist's unconscious process. Ideally, supervision imparts to the psychotherapist a praxis and a habit for such examination. This may then develop into a continuing process of self-examination that will serve both therapist and clients in the future.reality this is where reality frequently diverge from the ideal objectives of training.
There are no formal requirements that the psychotherapist remain in supervision. Instead, there is a tacit implication that a figure has arisen in the psychotherapist whose function becomes supervisor in abstentia. It seems highly unlikely that if this figure ever really coalesced that it will be preserved. There are many reasons why such an interior figure is likely to atrophy or die. Chief among the reasons for this figure either never fully developing or atrophying is what I shall call the Croesus Syndrome.
Croesus was King of Lyda from 560 BC to 547 BC until his defeat by the Persians. He is credited with being the first to introduce gold coinage of a standard weight and purity. His wealth and power was vast and before setting out on his campaign against Cyrus of Persia, he consulted the Delphic Oracle.
- Consulting the Oracle by John William Waterhouse
The message provided by the Oracle took it's usual cryptic form. Croesus was told that if he campaigned against Cyrus of Persia a great empire would fall and he was further advised to align himself with the most powerful Greek state. He struck alliances with Sparta among others and set off. As was the custom, Croesus disbanded his army when winter arrived. Cyrus did not and he attacked Croesus in Sardis. Croesus then understood the great empire that the oracle foretold would be destroyed was his own empire. Such is often the fate of the psychotherapist who endeavors to cultivate an interior figure that serve as supervisor in abstentia.
Like Croesus, that psychotherapist seeks the oracle's message but the psychotherapist's dreams, associations, and active imagination yield their mysteries in cryptic form. And also like Croesus, the psychotherapist suffers a predictable inclination toward interpreting his or her unconscious material in accord with their conscious, more acceptable understanding. Notice that the psychotherapist's shadow need not be included in this process. In fact, the shadow elements of the psychotherapist will further resemble Croesus's tale in that its unacknowledged state may be credited with the failures of the campaign, the psychotherapy or psychoanalysis itself.
CHALLENGE
I have some ideas of what may be done about this predicament but I am interested in knowing what other therapists think about this dilemma and how others endeavor to address it.
But I encourage you to explore the idea for yourself.
Len Cruz, MD
Architecture of the Soul: Inner & Outer Structures of C. G. Jung
On February 4, 20
11, Dr. Murray Stein will present a conference together with Andreas Jung, in collaboration with the Asheville Jung Center titled “Architecture of the Soul: Inner and Outer Structures of C. G. Jung”. Andreas Jung is an architect whose father and great uncle were also architects. He is a graduate of Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule Zürich (ETHZ) and currently lives in the home on Seestrasse.
11, Dr. Murray Stein will present a conference together with Andreas Jung, in collaboration with the Asheville Jung Center titled “Architecture of the Soul: Inner and Outer Structures of C. G. Jung”. Andreas Jung is an architect whose father and great uncle were also architects. He is a graduate of Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule Zürich (ETHZ) and currently lives in the home on Seestrasse.C. G. Jung was intimately involved in the design of this home and attended to such things as the cladding upon the walls that provided deeply niched windows and lovely inset glass cabinets in the dining room. Andreas Jung authors two very personal chapters and serves as the co-editor of the book.
Arthur Rüegg, a professor of architecture at ETHZ, opens one of the chapter titled “Living in a Museum?” with the following rendering:
The house of Carl Gustav Jung is without a doubt the physical expression of a great mind.
In 1906, while still “an impecunious assistant medical director at the Burghölzi mental home in Zürich”, Jung wrote to his cousin, architect Ernst Fietcher, of his plans “… to build a house someday, in the country near Zürich, on the lake”. It was the untimely death of Emma Jung’s father that allowed the couple to build the home. The Jungs worked closely with the architect and landscape architects on the design.
Three generations of Jung’s have lived in this home that is now owned by a foundation (Stiftung C. G. Jung Küsnacht). Two of those generations of inhabitants were “…families who could read these traces and respectfully carry on the tradition.” (p 90). The history of the house and it’s renovations is crisply and artfully presented.
What emerges from the pages of The House of C. G. Jung is a portrait of an intentional man who demonstrated an uncanny ability to move between the worlds of the mythopoetic interior life and the tangible, concrete realms. It should be no surprise that the man who constructed the Tower at Bollingen would have built a home worthy of memorializing. Jung gave attention to details such as wall hangings, tile selection and placement of the rooms where he conducted analysis so as not to displace Emma from the library and interfere with her work.
The chapter “Living in a museum?” reads like a patient’s anamnesis as it reviews the homes history and developmental influences. The reader is reminded that homes, like organic things, change and adapt to their circumstances and their inhabitants. Despite several major renovations through the last century, the respect and regard for the original home was preserved. The home is a testament to what concentrated self-examination and openness to the individuation process can produce. It is the biography of a house that is no less impressive for what it reveals or the man who built it.
Architecture and psychology are first cousins. Consider a few quotes assembled from several renown architects:
“Space and light and order. Those are the things that men need just as much as they need bread or a place to sleep.” Le Corbusier
“The home should be the treasure chest of living.” Le Corbusier
“Buildings, too, are children of Earth and Sun.” Frank Lloyd Wright
“Form follow function – that has been misunderstood. Form and function should be one, joined in a spiritual union.” Frank Lloyd Wright
“Freedom is from within.” Frank Lloyd Wright
“The heart is the chief feature of a functioning mind.” Frank Lloyd Wright
“Architecture is the will of the epoch translated into structure.” Ludwig Miles van der Rohe
Invitation: The house that “you” built
Take a moment to consider the space you inhabit, whether it is a home, office, apartment, or just a room. Examine it for details that reflect aspects of your interior life. Where do you see function pronouncing itself and where does aesthetic seem to announce itself? Examine the space for signs and signifiers of your individuated self and for signs of where your individuation is ensnared in its effort to emerge.
Compose a work of your own that reflects the house you have built. If you feel so moved, please share those reflections with others in our community by posting a comment on this blog. If you are planning to attend the seminar on February 4, “Architecture of the Soul: Inner and Outer Structures of C. G. Jung”. then this exercise might be a useful preparation, like tilling the soil before the planting.
Len Cruz, MD
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
The Spiders of Allah
The Spiders of Allah
By James Hider
Thankfully, I have not witnessed war firsthand but have relied on journalists Ike James Hider to escort me through the raw, pock-marked landscape of violent human conflict. Hider is to be commended for the understated manner by which he uses his unbeliever status to frame his engaging narrative of the Middle East during the past decade.
Unbridled, zealous belief so often undergirds violence between peoples that it might seem hackneyed to write another book on the subject. But this is a collection of personal stories that transcends political rhetoric, avoids hyperbole, and avoids oversimplification. At times Hider offers unusual Biblical references that bring to life Santayana's famous quote about those of us who do not learn from history being destined to repeat it. At other times, Hider describes primitive, pre-scientific beliefs among the Iraqis that are at once entertaining and disheartening. How can we continue to believe our Western style democracy will ever take root and flourish in such an environment.
A wartime journalist must seek to balance vivid, horrific details that satisfy prurient interests and stories that preserve to prevent their readers from becoming anesthetized. Over thirty years of practicing psychiatry I have treated many individuals with post-traumatic stress disorder but the number of persons suffering extreme trauma in the Middle East (including American and European personnel) is unimaginable to me.
Within weeks of 9/11 I was convinced that The Patriot Act, the march to war in Iraq, and many other events was proof that the terrorist attack was America's Reichstag fire. In fact, I briefly composed a basket of stocks chosen by investigating the corporate relationships of Vice President Cheney (his wife) and Cabinet members like Rumsfeld. The basket of stocks rose dramatically in the years following the attacks on the Twin Towers. My wife forbid me from actually investing in this basket of stocks that would profit from massive bloodshed and human suffering. My conspiratorial ideas may reflect an effort to find meaning from senseless violence. But Hider's broader vision of history is seasoned in real life, face to face encounters with Middle Easterners.
The Spiders of Allah is infused with a sense of destiny. For instance, in Karbala, during the holiest Shia holiday, James Hider and his girlfriend, Lourdes Garcia-Navarro (aka Lulu), a reporter for National Public Radio, are subjected to a search as they enter their hotel. They are nearly banished from town when Lulu is discovered to have a bottle of wine in her bag. The pair secure their release for fewer than ten dollars and the following day they are on the scene of terrible carnage when more than one dozen suicide bombers execute their brutal attack. Hider juxtaposes the calm demeanor of a young Shia sheikh whose religious joy belies the loss of his cousin, who hours earlier was blown apart by one of the blasts. Maybe Hider and Garcia-Navarro do not see that their commitment to reliable, honest journalism shares a heritage with the religious fervor of the young sheikh and other believers.
The Spiders of Allah opens with a slightly self conscious voice but by the end of the book, Hider gives the readers a chapter titled, "Creatures of the Id" wherein he muses and speculates about the abhorrent features of human nature that lead us to fight. The last chapters are free of self consciousness and they provide a window into how war correspondents resolve the exquisite and insane circumstances they encounter. I have been a fan of Garcia-Navarro's reporting on NPR for years and Hider's book is the sort of firsthand narrative that can only be written by persons like this pair who travel at the margins where history is made.
The book is missing the most important chapter in the lives of Hider and Garcia-Navarro that was written after the book was published. Earlier this year they were married.
By James Hider
Thankfully, I have not witnessed war firsthand but have relied on journalists Ike James Hider to escort me through the raw, pock-marked landscape of violent human conflict. Hider is to be commended for the understated manner by which he uses his unbeliever status to frame his engaging narrative of the Middle East during the past decade.
Unbridled, zealous belief so often undergirds violence between peoples that it might seem hackneyed to write another book on the subject. But this is a collection of personal stories that transcends political rhetoric, avoids hyperbole, and avoids oversimplification. At times Hider offers unusual Biblical references that bring to life Santayana's famous quote about those of us who do not learn from history being destined to repeat it. At other times, Hider describes primitive, pre-scientific beliefs among the Iraqis that are at once entertaining and disheartening. How can we continue to believe our Western style democracy will ever take root and flourish in such an environment.
A wartime journalist must seek to balance vivid, horrific details that satisfy prurient interests and stories that preserve to prevent their readers from becoming anesthetized. Over thirty years of practicing psychiatry I have treated many individuals with post-traumatic stress disorder but the number of persons suffering extreme trauma in the Middle East (including American and European personnel) is unimaginable to me.
Within weeks of 9/11 I was convinced that The Patriot Act, the march to war in Iraq, and many other events was proof that the terrorist attack was America's Reichstag fire. In fact, I briefly composed a basket of stocks chosen by investigating the corporate relationships of Vice President Cheney (his wife) and Cabinet members like Rumsfeld. The basket of stocks rose dramatically in the years following the attacks on the Twin Towers. My wife forbid me from actually investing in this basket of stocks that would profit from massive bloodshed and human suffering. My conspiratorial ideas may reflect an effort to find meaning from senseless violence. But Hider's broader vision of history is seasoned in real life, face to face encounters with Middle Easterners.
The Spiders of Allah is infused with a sense of destiny. For instance, in Karbala, during the holiest Shia holiday, James Hider and his girlfriend, Lourdes Garcia-Navarro (aka Lulu), a reporter for National Public Radio, are subjected to a search as they enter their hotel. They are nearly banished from town when Lulu is discovered to have a bottle of wine in her bag. The pair secure their release for fewer than ten dollars and the following day they are on the scene of terrible carnage when more than one dozen suicide bombers execute their brutal attack. Hider juxtaposes the calm demeanor of a young Shia sheikh whose religious joy belies the loss of his cousin, who hours earlier was blown apart by one of the blasts. Maybe Hider and Garcia-Navarro do not see that their commitment to reliable, honest journalism shares a heritage with the religious fervor of the young sheikh and other believers.
The Spiders of Allah opens with a slightly self conscious voice but by the end of the book, Hider gives the readers a chapter titled, "Creatures of the Id" wherein he muses and speculates about the abhorrent features of human nature that lead us to fight. The last chapters are free of self consciousness and they provide a window into how war correspondents resolve the exquisite and insane circumstances they encounter. I have been a fan of Garcia-Navarro's reporting on NPR for years and Hider's book is the sort of firsthand narrative that can only be written by persons like this pair who travel at the margins where history is made.
The book is missing the most important chapter in the lives of Hider and Garcia-Navarro that was written after the book was published. Earlier this year they were married.
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