HOW DO YOU KNOW YOUR ARCHETYPE?

John B Rowe, PhD

 

            One way to know your archetypes is by paying attention to your bouts of depression or to your moods. Often, some image or some emotional-laden problem is crying out for attention. And as James Hillman (Re-visioning Psychology, 1997) reminds us, the voice of psyche is often first heard in our pathologies, our sufferings.

            Archetypes transcend rational thought. They are more akin to the imagination, which is why archetypes often shine through, not in what we know or think we know or want to know, but in the language of dreams – images. These images are often depicted in extreme forms – psyche’s way of saying, “Hey! Are you paying attention?”

            Not only do archetypes transcend and challenge rational thought – the language of the ego – but they speak to us in the language of opposites. For example, a dream image may present an anima image as insisting on a divorce (eg. A wife tells her husband abruptly that she wants to end the marriage); but the scene takes place with the husband sitting on a couch with his friend at the other end of the couch, providing solace and advice about what to do. The wife tells her husband she has exhausted all means she knows of to imitate the marriage of her parents, which is not anything close to what the husband wants for marriage. And then there’s a discussion between the husband and his friend about not fighting the anima’s demand but seeking a third way through marriage counseling. Opposites abound! You could say, here, that the image of “marriage counseling” is the primary form of unconscious language: presenting opposites, not for the purpose of integration – though that may, indeed, occur – but for the purpose of creativity and transcendence. By holding the tension between a marriage that feels confining versus a marriage that leans toward dissolution and freedom, is a place for the mystery of love. It is not so much a space that requires marriage manuals as much as psychic room for the imagination to consider and work with the opposites.

            A marriage based on ego is typically one based on adaptation, but also one that tends towards disassociation – repressing vital energies of the psyche for the purpose of keeping the peace or maintaining a semblance of love, which is actually closer to accommodation. Real marriage between real souls involves both love and hate, by necessity. We might re-label archetypal hate as momentary or chronic friction, relational spats, or all out warfare. But love and hate are potent forms of psychic energy that require mature adults to exert enormous strength and magical creativity in order to prevent their repression. Loss of the tension of love versus hate, can devolve into passivity, accommodation, and depression and anxiety, not to mention loss of trust that your partner is really there for you as an authentic individual, but only as an extension of themselves or some compromise manifestation of adaptive love. A divorce, then, from the point of view of psyche could represent a psychological split and a failure of imagination – a decision to forever separate love from hate, in favor of the hated marriage and a longed for freedom accomplished through destruction of the marital container.

            Archetypes, then, find their way into consciousness through our pathologies or sufferings, through imagination and non-rational creativity, through honoring and working with the tension of opposites, and through trust in the enormous energy experienced while engaging with archetypes. For example, love grows when hate is honored as a legitimate voice within psyche. And hate diminishes when it doesn’t have to squash itself. The archetype of the Self which represents cosmic, universal love and the unification of all opposites becomes the compass of a marriage, representing the Great Mother, who maintains and regulates the ecological balance of all psychic energies. You see this clearly in the myth of Psyche and Eros where Eros must descend into the Underworld in order to provide wisdom and strength and creativity so that Psyche can overcome her dark ordeals, and so become a suitable equal for Eros and their eventual marriage.

            It takes a very strong Ego to accomplish all of this. Archetypes can destroy a marriage, to stay with this example, if the Ego has not developed adequately. One of the most important functions of individual psychotherapy is to repair developmental wounds that hinder the Ego’s ability to work with archetypes. And one of the most important capacities of the an individual psychotherapist is the capacity to embody the energy of the Wise Sage, the Explorer, and the Wounded Healer in order to provide a loving container where individuals and couples can go deeper into the unconscious in order to bring up from the depths the reality of the Cosmic Self and the archetypal energies that can both deform and transform a human being. This is the work of alchemy, which requires careful tending and an ability to resist simple solutions or quick fixes in service to the individual soul as well as the soul of a marriage.

 

 

Unlocking Dream Insights: Discover Hidden Aspects of Yourself

Where do they come from? These characters, images, and emotions that show up nightly in our dreams? And what purpose do they serve?

When a female acquaintance, whom I had not seen in years, showed up in a dream and nonchalantly mentioned she was closing her counseling practice for a couple of months, I was shocked. But then, as we continued our conversation, I exclaimed, “I’d love to take two months off from my counseling practice!”

I would? I wondered doubtfully when I awoke from the dream…. “Yes, I really would!”

But where had that burst of enthusiasm come from? It’s not anything that had been on my mind. I’d taken as much as two weeks off for vacation before, but never have I imagined closing up shop for two whole months! If you had suggested I take such an extended break from counseling 20-25 clients a week, I would have immediately thought you were crazy. Where would you even come up with such an idea? I can’t afford to take off that much time.

But here is this woman – a therapist I greatly respect – rising up from my past, completely out of the blue, planting a seed in my mind that immediately formed roots. I could visit Rome for a week, then drop down into Florence or Barcelona or go over to Greece. Or I could plan a visit to my favorite ocean village, Ocracoke, where I could read, write, ride my bike, and walk my dog while getting my fill of scrumptious seafood. Or go camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains. Or all of the above!

The obvious conclusion is that there is a person inside of me whom I forget exists, until a character in a dream wakes him up.  Someone who is capable of challenging my daytime self-image and habitual routines. He can turn my life upside down, yet he also wants to make of my life an adventure. At 71 years of age, there’s only so much time left to visit places I want to see and to do things I’d like to do outside of the metronome-like schedule of work and the rather mundane rhythms and rituals of life.

Who is he, this guy who is usually asleep? A risk taker, for sure. Edgy, spontaneous, fun, and a little nuts, this alternative version of myself. But imminently likable, this fellow. He would take off to Rome, for example, not for a quick tour of all the usual sites. But a languishing, sinking into, and savoring of the rich and glorious culture, the architecture, and the tastes and aromas of Italy; deep dives into ancient stories that were formative for Western civilization, along with ample space for wandering and experiencing whatever wants to be discovered. This unknown guy would be a blast to travel with. The contagion of his effervescent energy is palpable.

But then, what about her, the woman in my dream. Who is she and where does she come from?

Jungian psychology posits the notion of archetypal patterns of behavior and energies that are universal – they appear in the consciousness of every culture and civilization. Archetypes aid and influence our mental, emotional, and spiritual growth. They show up in dreams, such as the archetype of Healer or the Divine Feminine, embodied in the quite human image of my female friend inspiring me to tap into her kind of energy. Archetypal energy – say, the energy of adventure or rejuvenation or, in Tarot, “the Fool” – might be thought of as precious ore lying buried in our depths. Indeed, maybe that’s what we are, really – alchemical mixtures of necessary but yet-to-be discovered and yearning-to-be-developed energies. Places inside of us, hidden or barely recognized, subterranean streams and wondrous terrains that reveal novelties and experiences waiting to be mined.

The gift of the night is that we get to go there, not just to uncover precious ore, but to bring it back up to the surface for the betterment of our lives, our relationships, and our souls.

What characters in your dreams are waiting to be awakened?

Where I Have Been

Darkness    In darkness and in light we are made.

But first, there was darkness before the wind of God’s spirit brought light. And each night, we are reminded that darkness is as much a part of life as is the light of our daytime lives. We receive equal doses of both.

So, I have been in darkness these past 12 months since my last posting: a period of gestation, of soul-searching, of existential wrestling with unseen angels. There has been light too; but in my soon to be sixty-second year, I am learning to treat darkness with more respect, and at times, I can even befriend the dark.

As children, we loved a “camp-out” under the stars. Just a few yards beyond our own backyard, we took our sleeping bags and flashlights, our comic books and playing cards, and loved the night. We loved the stars above and the stories we read in the night sky, it’s images and characters imagined as real, and the games we played in the night. With darkness, we felt a sense of freedom, a taste of trust in the natural world, and a certain camaraderie with our childhood buddies and friends.

When darkness comes unbidden — through some present suffering, or illness, or of simply feeling lost in the middle of our forward progress — it’s not such a chummy sensation. It may feel more like shame or guilt or disorientation. We want a way out, but feel stymied. Much like the time when I considered the possibility of divorce: I could not find a way up and out towards the light, so I decided the only logical alternative was the way down, deeper into the darkness. And that was how I found hope.

We are fascinated with darkness, and we fear it too. In Jung’s way of thinking, darkness is archetypal. Darkness is a spiritual reality that manifests throughout our lives in nature, in our relationships, and in our souls. Our efforts to get rid of our personal times of darkness usually result in making things worse. But if we get the hang of it — lighting a candle in the dark, inviting a trusted friend, or just waiting for the lesson our souls need — the darkness gives us gifts we otherwise would miss and be the poorer for missing such blessed offerings.

I have a new office, a new stage in my career as a therapist of soul, a new community, and a new home I share with my wife, Sarah, and dog, Theo. It’s a very good thing. Without the darkness, however, I never would have known what my soul was drawing me towards.

THE ROAD

All is darkness
And distant drumming,
Walking along slowly
With shadows only as guides.
How is it that I am here?
Where am I going?
How can a dark road feel so much like –
Home.

Dark faces move
Zombie-like.
Do they mean me harm?
Are they really parts of me?
Or am I actually their creation?
From somewhere I feel a dare:
Join hands with these Others.
Jesus! These least of these?
Couldn’t I, instead, just run?

Come now.
We can do this.
In larger numbers we’ll go.
Courage!
The drumming growing louder.
Fire!
And Dancing!
And singing –
See it now!

A wrong road made
Right
By love and grace
And risk.
We howl our tender mercies
As we claim their new light.
Roads that seemed right go
Wrong
When we forget to celebrate faces in the
Night.

by John B. Rowe