Our dreams are always trying to correct our waking personality. They are a kind of psychospiritual medicine tailored just for us. When we avoid healing advice from the dream maker, pressure builds in our unconscious. Gentle suggestions become urgent pleas, which over time become fierce demands that insist on recognition. Once we recognize we are running away from essential insights, we can turn around and embrace them.
Many of us have uncanny coincidences like thinking of a friend at the exact moment they ring us on the phone, but what about physical things breaking apart for no reason or luminous apparitions at our bedside? We often explain them away to reduce our anxiety, but Jung found them fascinating. He maintained a scientific attitude while accepting strange phenomena he could not explain. Eventually, he created a psychology of radical acceptance that creates space for the unexpected, including each person’s unique soul.
Many people just can’t rally to do what’s necessary and improve their lives. Is it possible they just don’t carry much vitality or is some inner conflict blocking their access? We share personal stories of ‘energy loss,’ and offer insights into purposelessness. Jung tells us inner energy flows according to its own laws but if we can’t harness it?
We organize reunions because we yearn to reconnect with old friends, recall shared experiences, and reignite a sense of community. We all need meaningful social contact and enjoy nostalgia. While coming together can feel alluring, actually attending the event may evoke a spectrum of ambivalent feelings. We’re likely to feel judged for our achievements, appearance, or socioeconomic status, especially compared to our peers. Transitioning into adulthood is often tumultuous, marked by intense negative experiences, and revisiting those periods can be daunting. Attending reunions can inadvertently reactivate traumatic memories, making the decision to participate a delicate one for many of us. Seeing a former bully or revisiting a dorm can bring back the anxiety, fear, loneliness, or sadness of those formative years. We might even find ourselves sweating or feeling trapped. Recognizing and validating our fears is crucial.
In 1959, the Barbie doll hit the market and created a stir. American mothers objected to her sensuous form, so Mattel marketed it directly to children, a tactic never used before, and it worked. The maternal archetype of Hera, sentinel of the social order, goddess of childbirth, and protectress of the home, was supplanted. Aphrodite, the captivating goddess exuding an aura of beauty, desirability, and persuasive allure, had arrived.
“Loss of soul amounts to a tearing loose of part of one’s nature; it is the disappearance and emancipation of a complex, which thereupon becomes a tyrannical usurper of consciousness, oppressing the whole man. It throws him off course and drives him to actions whose blind one-sidedness inevitably leads to self-destruction.”
CG Jung CW6, para 384
Elderhood can be a time to shed the roles assigned to us. Menopause can be welcomed as a rite of passage with the Hag silently waiting for us to see her. If we have learned how to recognize her, renewal and reclaiming is possible. The stories of those who have gone before us carry a strange beauty that can stir a memory in our soul and set us on the path.
With high spirits, we three revisit our first meeting and reflect on the discovery of kinship between us. Our experiences of trust, reciprocity, and shared hardship marked by endless conversations and abundant laughter forged our bond during analytic training. Yet it reflects more than our shared life; friendship is archetypal.
Imposter syndrome constellates the gut-wrenching fear of being exposed as a fraud no matter how much we have learned or the successes we have demonstrated. In 1978 two researchers identified and explored a painful phenomenon among some high-achieving women. Despite their high levels of success, they were convinced they were not as competent, intelligent, or skilled as others might think. Instead of identifying with their capabilities, they often attributed their success to luck, personal persuasion, or an unanticipated burst of energy. Further research revealed this struggle was equally distributed among men and women.
To reimagine that we are part of a responsive web of life, is to resist the mechanistic worldview that treats nature as a lifeless object to be controlled and exploited. It reawakens a parallel universe where our material actions simultaneously appear in our inner world, not as photographs of our acts but as symbols that reveal the secret relationship between ourselves and those we influence.
What sets hypochondriasis apart from merely being cautious about one’s health? The answer lies in the severity of the worry and its impact on everyday life. An individual with hypochondriasis lives with constant, debilitating fear; it is not a fleeting concern. As IAD progresses, it becomes a lens through which they see their life, leading to significant distress and impaired functioning.
A sudden pang in the chest, a quiet voice persistently whispering at the back of our mind, we experience guilt when our actions, or deliberate lack thereof, infringe upon our personal ethical code or societal norms. As human beings, we constantly interact with a myriad of emotions, but guilt often demands our immediate attention. It is the subjective experience of violating moral, social, or self-imposed standards. Our lens shapes these standards, tinted by inherited beliefs, imparted values, and personal experiences. When we feel we’ve crossed these lines, guilt steps in, a vehement alarm.