This Jungian Life

It seems that an intrepid consortium of impact investors, real estate developers, and the Swiss Tourism, Farming, and Dairy Products Oversight Authority have created a juggernaut heading for Jung’s home in Kusnacht and his famous tower in Bollingen. The enterprise called Große Böse Wölfe Hinein Unterwäsche has announced its plans to finalize the acquisition of Jung’s estate and transform it. The modernization of revered sites is familiar across the world. Saddled with mounting maintenance costs and increasing government regulation, British Estates have been repurposed as luxury hotels and sacred temples into coffee houses. Ineligible for inclusion as a UNESCO world heritage site, the Jung properties were placed in a precarious position and seemed to be headed for a similar fate. The consortium has leaked plans to position the properties within a large compound inspired by the successful Disney Adventureland highlighting fairytale motifs. While Jung himself might have delighted in bringing the archetypal theme

Schadenfreude, the joy in someone else’s misfortune, is a common human experience. We often feel it when someone we believe deserves it embarrasses themselves or is caught in a scandal. Nietzsche once said, “Humor is just schadenfreude with a clear conscience.” This is true, as many comedic scenes involve some form of hilarious undoing. However, when this pleasure becomes malicious, it can be troubling. Some rules govern schadenfreude. We feel pleasure when an envied person is shamed because it tarnishes their status, making them seem less superior. We delight in the failure of the opposing team because we feel enhanced by the success of our side. Distributing humiliating information about a public figure across social media delights certain influencers, and those who pass it on feel a secret joy in expanding the denigration. Dehumanization is at the core of this kind of schadenfreude. Children as young as six display signs of pleasure in seeing peers fail but are pressured to hide their glee. Compensation re

The Pied Piper story holds a dark secret that has repelled and fascinated us for over 500 years. It asks, "What does it cost to banish our shadow?"  At its surface, it looks like a simple morality tale cautioning us to be prudent and fair. Rats overrun a town, and the locals are beside themselves. A magical piper vibrantly dressed offers a solution too good to be true. His pipe weaves a tune that leads rats to their doom – and they drown in the ocean so neatly. Thrilled at first, then cunning and foolish, the town leaders refuse to pay the piper for his service. In turn, he entrances all but three children and takes them away forever. Historians wonder if the account is an artifact of a devastating plague. The Lueneburg manuscript from about 1440 CE records the following event: “In the year of 1284, on the day of Saints John and Paul on June 26, by a piper, clothed in many kinds of colours, 130 children born in Hamelin were seduced, and lost at the place of execution near the koppen.” But tragedy was common

The archetype of the orphan, closely related to the hero, evokes powerful feelings of abandonment, deprivation, and hope. From Harry Potter to Little Orphan Annie from Daenerys Targaryen to Cinderella, orphans who triumph over adversity remind us that healing the inner child is possible. The factual history of orphans is frequently heartbreaking. In the ancient world, unwanted infants were subject to abandonment or death through exposure. In the US, Orphan Trains moved 200,00 children from NE coastal cities to live with farm families between 1853 to 1929. Journalists exposed the nightmare of Romanian orphanages in 1989, rousing adoption efforts and fundraising efforts. The Canadian government forcibly took native children and placed them in Christian boarding schools under the pretense of assimilation. This tragic history lives on in the collective unconscious. Many of us have inner orphans. The unloved parts of us shipped off to the unconscious exert a powerful influence over our moods. Our adult selves may

The word test originally referred to an earthenware vessel in which metals were smelted to separate ore from dross. Like ancient vessels holding the heat of the refining fire, our task is to contain the tension of the test. Tests smelt fantasy from the ore of reality and force us to adapt. If a test feels arbitrary or unfair, we may be failing to dissolve the dross of inadequacy, limitation, or shame. Tests require us to develop the ego strength to put our courage, morals, and perseverance on the line—and withstand the ego wounding of failure. Ultimately ego itself is put to the test. Jung says, “Only if we know that the thing which truly matters is the infinite can we avoid fixing our interest upon futilities, and upon all kinds of goals which are not of real importance.” The archetype of the Self undergirds testing, first to help distinguish ego from unconscious, and then to relinquish ego’s illusion of supremacy.  HERE'S THE DREAM WE ANALYZE: “I’m in our living room hanging up laundry, when a large bird (m

Despite volumes written on morality and ethics, how do we determine what’s right? Values distilled over time by family, faith, and nation define and denounce wrong, but the effort to banish shadow only allows it to emerge as projection onto others. We decry in ‘them’ what we deny in ourselves. Jung says, “The shadow is a moral problem that challenges the whole ego-personality…for to become conscious of it involves recognizing the dark aspects [of oneself]…as present and real.”  We have all faced a moral dilemma at some point in our lives, questioning our own judgment and rectitude. This internal conflict is a result of our shadow self, the parts of ourselves we keep shamefully hidden and refuse to acknowledge. In order to make ethical decisions, we must discover our shadow and integrate it into our decision-making process. This is called shadow work, a psychological practice that requires facing our fears, insecurities, and doubts. We can genuinely understand our moral philosophy only when we engage our inner

Invitations are a subtle siren song, tapping into our primal human need to be chosen combined with our thirst for novelty, making them an irresistible force. When you receive an invitation, it is a moment of recognition, an invitation to be a part of something greater, to feel wanted, valued, and accepted. In the hierarchy of human needs, the sense of belonging takes a top priority, surpassed only by our basic requirements for survival. There is power in inviting and being invited. The myth of Baucis and Philemon, who innocently invited Zeus and Hermes to dine in their humble cottage, and were blessed for their generosity, reminds us that the right invitations can bring abundance and joy into our lives. But, like the cautionary tale of Sleeping Beauty and the curse of the uninvited fairy, withheld invitations can also be dangerous, hiding the potential for envy and retribution. An invitation can be a fateful call to action, tapping into our innate desire to be heroic and admired. It’s difficult to resist such

When the goddess Aphrodite claims us too fully, over time, our bodies become abandoned temples of physical perfection, sexual allure, and romantic passion.   Her seductive archetypal power has captivated us for eons, but in today’s world, the enhancements of fashion, beauty, and physical appearance have intensified veneration of this goddess. However, her enchantments can have profound consequences, particularly when it comes to aging and the pressures of perfection.  In this episode, we delve into the mysterious realm of the archetype with guest Arlene Landau, Ph.D. - a Jungian analyst, mythologist, lecturer, and author of Tragic Beauty: The Dark Side of Venus Aphrodite and the Loss and Regeneration of Soul.  An intricate and complicated relationship exists between women and the goddess of love. Arlene fills a gap in Jungian literature from the female gaze, providing a reflective 21st-century examination of the Aphrodite archetype’s dark shadow. When pressured to concretize Aphrodite symbols -- pursuing beau

Marriage is a mystery woven into the fabric of time. A 4,000-year-old contract etched in stone bears witness to its timeless significance. But what is the meaning behind this union of two souls? Jung saw the definition of marriage as an alchemy of instinct and divinity, a blending of the physical and the spiritual. It is a bond that extends beyond legal and familial ties into the realm of the sacred. The purpose of marriage is a journey of individuation, a chance for each partner to grow and flourish within the embrace of a supportive union -  it is a crucible of transformation. Tempered by our shadow, it can forge us into our best selves. In marriage, we embark on a dance with our beloved, discovering new parts of ourselves with each step. But as time passes and our projections fade, we must pass through disappointment and conflict. But as Jung saw it, these difficulties are opportunities for internal work, leading to the transformation of emotional connection into conscious relationships. The purpose of mar

Guest Eve Maram, PsyD, is a clinical psychologist and Jungian analyst in Orange, CA. Her book, The Schizophrenia Complex, presents a clear-eyed and compassionate understanding of our encounters with severe mental illness. The submergence in unconscious chaos that defines schizophrenia triggers negative emotions in others—yet Jung on psychosis showed that we are different from those patients only in degree. Significantly his Word Association Test proved that the unconscious influences everyone’s daily life in multiple ways. Moreover, Jung’s psychiatric work with psychotic convalescents led to his ground-breaking discovery of the collective unconscious, humanity’s mythopoetic substrate. Understandably we shy away from people in psychosis because they are living out our own radical and universal mad parts. But, instead of turning from the schizophrenia complex, we can acknowledge our shared darkness and stretch into connection. Then, as Eve Maram’s story depicts, we may find eros has the power to cons

Imprisoned by the sea with his son Icarus, mythological craftsman Daedalus constructed wings to escape. Beeswax held feathers in place, so Daedalus told Icarus not to fly too high or too low: the sun’s heat would melt the wax and sea spray would weigh the wings down. Elated, Icarus flew too high--and fell. Like Icarus, the moods of people with bipolar disorder swing from soaring into mania to sinking into depression. This disorder affects at least 2% of the population worldwide, with genetics by far the major contributor. BP is a major cause of disability and can also be a factor in creativity; it often brings with it anxiety, substance abuse, migraines, and more. Treatment includes medication, attention to lifestyle, and psychotherapy that includes relating to archetypal polarities. Jung says, “It is not a matter of indifference whether one calls something a ‘mania’ or a ‘god.’ To serve a mania is detestable and undignified, but to serve a god is full of meaning and promise.” Bipolar individuals soar between

Conned, swindled, or bilked, about 50 million Americans were ripped off by scammers in 2020. What deadens a person to preying on another? Tricksters commit crudely constructed fraud. Jung said they are “not really evil [but do] the most atrocious things from sheer unconsciousness and unrelatedness.” Cheaters may have behaved decently until tempted by need and opportunity and then become caught in a web of deception. Narcissists exploit others due to an inflated need for admiration and status that forecloses empathy and relatedness--and crooks turn predation, power, and risk-taking into a career. They lack authentic affiliation with others and an abiding sense of self; egotism and performative grandiosity substitute for feeling and being. The scammer unwittingly scams himself by seeking false gold in the external world. Real gold lies within. Here’s the dream we analyze: “I’m with my family in a grand dining room, around a large table with lots of food on it. It’s going to be dad’s funeral. I hear that mum is

New Year is a global time of celebration and self-reflection. We let go of what’s worn out and cheer on what’s new and emergent. Here at TJL, we raised our glasses in gratitude. We crested 8 million downloads, implemented major enhancements to your Dream School experience, started crafting our first book, The Key Dreams, and expanded our creative team. It’s been a year of dynamic growth, and we couldn’t have done it without you! Our mission to share Jung’s life-enhancing wisdom is advancing through your patronage, soulful participation, and kind-hearted enthusiasm. Your experiences are important to us, and we noticed the 2022 episodes you liked best. So to honor that, we’re sharing some gems from those conversations. In Reality as Medicine, we explore the task of adapting to the truths of our inner and outer worlds. Finally, in Vocation: Answering the Call, we deepen Jung’s comment, “In the final analysis, we count for something only because of the essential we embody, and if we do not embody that, life is w

Sex fascinates us. Whether we turn toward it, flushed and excited or away from it, tense and disquieted. Archetypal images of sex adorn the thresholds of ancient temples and inform most mythological systems. Shiva and Shakti, in their union, create the universe – she’s providing all forms for his undifferentiated light. The gods beget gods as they mate, giving rise to infinite imagistic permutations of cosmic and personal qualities. These religious images of creation and pleasure inform our individual psyche granting sexuality a numinous intensity.  Human culture shapes our initial attitudes toward sex. When infused with monotheistic religious feeling, sex is held as a sacrament subject to the rites and rituals believed to protect the couple from its overwhelming power and god’s jealous monitoring of the behavior. Polytheistic religions generated a multiplicity of god-forms and related myths to reflect a wide variety of possible relationships to sex and its outcomes. Pan, the lusty fertility god of the rut, A

Holiday homecomings kindle hopes of achieving a domestic ideal, though family gatherings are also likely to evoke old roles and emotions. Families open a portal into the patterns of the past, and unfinished business can cause repetition of disappointing dynamics as if one more replay will yield a different outcome. John Gottman, renowned interactive researcher, states that authentic relationships have more positive than negative interactions, creating an emotional bank account to draw on when difficulties arise. If relational deposits are low, it may be time to face the disappointing reality of what should have been and may never be. It’s time to start something new. We can engage the task of making a home within instead of seeking it from others. When we are at home with ourselves, we are free to enjoy relationships for what they have to offer. Complicated family dynamics are not modern affectations but part of the original fabric of human psyche. Fairy tales offer a wellspring of archetypal images that capt

In psychoanalysis, a screen memory covers up a deeper, more emotionally charged issue. Similarly, movie and television screens both shield and open us to human complexity through fiction. The opportunity to peer into shadow and secrets from a safe distance is irresistible. Depictions of psychotherapists and therapy can range from the malevolent Nurse Ratched (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) to psychic empath Deanna Troi (Star Trek). Most on-screen therapists, however, like their real-world counterparts, are wounded healers doing their best to help despite sometimes substantial fallibilities. Bruce Willis (Sixth Sense) doesn’t realize he’s dead; Jennifer Melfi (The Sopranos) denies her mobster client’s sociopathy, and Kelsey Grammer (Frasier) embodies the mercurial power of humor that grants perspective. Jung understood the value of the analyst’s capacity to suffer as they led the way; he writes, “…it is his own hurt that gives a measure of his power to heal.” During the painful tumult of the COVID pandemic,

We tend to think of revolution as a people’s push-back against perceived oppression—a reaction to rulership that has rejected fairness, change, and accessibility. When a rigid power structure reigns supreme—often presenting as idealism, spirituality, or cultural integrity—it can generate opposing force as an effort to restore rightness and realize renewal. For Jung, revolution “is not conversion into the opposite but conservation of previous values together with recognition of their opposites.” He adds that to quite a “terrifying degree, we are threatened by wars and revolutions which are nothing other than psychic epidemics…modern man is battered by the elemental forces of his own psyche.” For revolution to be more than warring between opposites requires the capacity to mediate conflicts within ourselves and establish a new internal order.  You say you’ll change the constitution Well, you know We’d all love to change your head You tell me it’s the institution Well, you know You better free your mind instead

Melancholy evokes images of poets and artists for whom suffering and giftedness go hand in hand. Creative ability as compensation for affliction is depicted in Greek myth by the god Hephaestus. Rejected by his goddess mother and cast out of Olympus, alienated Hephaestus forged magnificent, magical objects for the gods. Such archetypal imagery can inform our understanding of the kind of depression that seems intrinsic but may have roots in early, adverse childhood experiences of emotional deprivation or rejection. Early loss, separation from a primary caregiver, or relational abandonment can have lifelong repercussions. Such disruptive events, though not available to consciousness, nonetheless infuse adult attitudes and attachments. To name the void creates space for mourning and healing, and like Hephaestus, finding the inner fire to forge something new.  Here's the dream we analyze: “In my dream I am walking, I think toward a house. I'm walking through a wilderness area that has many, like at least 2 dozen,

Humans have played games since prehistoric times. Games bring us together and pit us against each other. We agree to rules, take turns, develop tolerance for frustration, and learn to win and lose. We develop skills and submit to chance. Games range from luck to skill, from a throw of the dice to acing it at tennis. Games regulate aggression: only one can win, whether on a gameboard or the court. Shadow is sanctioned within the rules, creating monikers like The Black Death of chess and Boss of the Moss of golf—and in the heat of a game, shadier traits may also be revealed. But “playing games” in relationships is universally condemned as cheating. Games introduce us to conditions of life, for we must play the hand we’ve been dealt. Confronted with the limitations of ego and understanding, we may discover that games are metaphors for the movement of a mysterious cosmos. Here’s the dream we analyze: “I dream of this place that is dark and largely empty. The doors to the place are open. Inside there is a void, an

As our bonds to historic roles loosen, fathers are finding new ways to express themselves within the family dynamic. In 2014 Pew Research Center identified two million stay-at-home-dads in the United States. Those men tell us that tending their children is more rewarding than chasing a paycheck. Being liberated from the hunter-gatherer role has allowed more men to incarnate aspects of the Father archetype infrequently seen since the industrial revolution. Being caregiver and homecreator does not diminish their experience of masculinity but rallies inner resources that had been set aside. Despite the national call for a redistribution of family duties and liberation from traditional paradigms, at-home dads face isolation, suspicion, and stigma.   Historically, as father’s left the home to work at factories and offices, their presence in the family psyche dimmed. Children often lost touch with the significance of their fathers, and family courts consistently relegated them to providers of income. Poet Robert Ha