books

There is always a Beginning to Grasp the Whole! P 8

Standard

Dream Stimuli and Dream Sources (Traumreize und Traumquellen)

Hello, friends! Building on my previous post, I want to share a new insight from Freud’s dream analysis. He emphasizes the crucial role dreams play and their profound impact on our lives. I’ve often observed that during sleep and dreaming, my body feels more sensitive than when I am awake.
In dreams, our souls are much more attuned to our bodies’ condition and our traumas.
As Dr Jung said:
“For what is the body? The body is merely the visibility of the soul, the psyche, and the soul is the psychological experience of the body. So it is really one and the same thing.”
~Carl Jung, Zarathustra Seminar, Page 355.
And:
Soul and body are not two things. They are one.
~Carl Jung, Zarathustra Seminar, Page 355

Ad 3) Internal, organic bodily stimulus

If we look for the sources of dreams not outside the organism but within it, we must remember that almost all our internal organs—which, in a healthy state, scarcely make us aware of their existence—become sources of usually unpleasant sensations in states of irritation or illness. These sensations must be placed on the same level as the external stimuli that cause pain or other sensations. These are very old observations that led Strümpell, for example, to state (p. 107): “In sleep, the soul attains a much deeper and broader sensory awareness of its corporeality than in the waking state, and is compelled to receive and be affected by certain sensory impressions originating from parts and changes in its body of which it was unaware while awake.” Aristotle himself considered it entirely possible that one might be alerted in a dream to the onset of a disease that is not yet perceptible in the waking state (by virtue of the amplification the dream accords to impressions; see p. 13 above), and medical authors—who were certainly far from believing in any prophetic gift of dreams—have acknowledged this significance of dreams, at least with regard to the early warning signs of illness. (Cf. M. Simon, p. 31, and many earlier authors.)

There appears to be no shortage of authenticated examples of such diagnostic functions of dreams, even in recent times. For instance, Tissié—citing Artigues (Essai sur la valeur séméiologique des rêves[Treatise on the Semiotic Value of Dreams])—reports the case of a forty-three-year-old woman who, while seemingly in perfect health, was troubled by anxiety dreams for several years; a medical examination later revealed the onset of a heart condition to which she soon succumbed.

Established disorders of the internal organs evidently act as dream-precipitating factors for a considerable number of people. Attention is often drawn to the prevalence of anxiety dreams among those suffering from heart and lung diseases; indeed, many authors place such emphasis on this connection between dream life and physical ailment that I may here content myself with a mere reference to the literature (Radestock, Spitta, Maury, M. Simon, Tissié). Tissié even suggests that diseased organs leave a characteristic imprint on dream content. The dreams of cardiac patients are usually very brief and end with a sudden, startled awakening; the scenario of death under gruesome circumstances almost invariably plays a role in their content. Patients with lung disease dream of suffocation, crowding, and flight, and they are subject in striking numbers to the familiar nightmare—which, incidentally, Börner was able to induce experimentally by having subjects lie face down and covering their respiratory openings. In cases of digestive disorders, dreams contain imagery related to eating and disgust. Finally, the influence of sexual arousal on dream content is palpable in everyone’s experience and provides the strongest support for the entire theory of dream formation triggered by organic stimuli.

When one examines the literature on dreams, it is also quite unmistakable that certain authors (Maury, Weygandt) were led to study the problems of dreaming by the influence of their own pathological conditions on the content of their dreams.

Incidentally, the addition to the sources of dreams drawn from these indisputably established facts is not as significant as one might suppose. After all, dreaming is a phenomenon that occurs in healthy individuals—perhaps in everyone, and perhaps every night—and for which organic disease is evidently not an essential condition. For us, however, the question is not where specific dreams originate, but rather what the source of stimulation might be for the ordinary dreams of normal people.

Yet only one further step is needed to arrive at a source of dreams more abundant than any before it and seemingly inexhaustible. If it is established that the interior of the body, when diseased, becomes a source of dream stimuli, and if we grant that the mind during sleep—cut off from the outside world—can pay greater attention to the body’s interior, then it is natural to assume that the organs need not actually be diseased in order to transmit excitations to the sleeping mind, excitations that somehow turn into dream images. What we perceive only dimly in the waking state—as a general bodily sensation defined merely by its quality, to which, in the physicians’ view, all organ systems contribute—would, if it exerted a powerful influence at night and became active through its individual components, be the most potent and, at the same time, the most common source for the generation of dream images. The remaining task would then be to investigate the rules by which these organic stimuli are transformed into dream images.

We have here touched on the theory of dream formation that has become the preferred one among medical authors. The obscurity in which the core of our being—the moi splanchnique, as Tissié calls it—is hidden from our knowledge, and the obscurity surrounding the origin of dreams, are too closely related not to be linked. Moreover, the line of reasoning that identifies vegetative organic sensation as the source of dreams has another attraction for the physician: it allows for an etiological connection between dreams and mental disorders—phenomena that show such striking similarities—since alterations in general somatic sensation and stimuli arising in the internal organs are also considered to be of far-reaching significance in the genesis of psychoses. It is therefore not surprising that the theory of somatic stimulation can be traced to more than one originator who proposed it independently.

~Carl Jung; The Spiritual Problem of Modern Man; CW 10: 195.

For many authors, Schopenhauer’s line of reasoning, developed in 1851, became decisive. Our worldview arises within us because our intellect casts the impressions it receives from outside into the forms of time, space, and causality. Stimuli originating within the organism—specifically from the sympathetic nervous system—at most exert an unconscious influence on our mood during the day.
At night, however, once the overpowering effect of daytime impressions has faded, those impressions rising from within can command attention—much as, at night, we can hear the trickling of a spring that the noise of the day had made inaudible. Yet how else is the intellect to respond to these stimuli than by carrying out its own characteristic function? It therefore transforms the stimuli into forms filling space and time—forms that move along the thread of causality—and thus the dream is born. Scherner and, later, Volkelt sought to examine more deeply the relationship between bodily stimuli and dream images; we shall reserve our assessment of their work for the section on dream theories.

In a particularly rigorous study, the psychiatrist Krauß traced the origin of dreams—as well as deliriums and delusions—back to the same source: the organically conditioned sensation. It is scarcely possible to conceive of any part of the organism that could not serve as the starting point for a dream or a delusional image. However, the organically conditioned sensation “can be divided into two categories: 1) that of general bodily states (coenesthesias), and 2) that of specific sensations inherent to the principal systems of the vegetative organism—of which we have distinguished five groups: a) muscular sensations, b) pneumatic, c) gastric, d) sexual, and e) peripheral.” (P. 33 of the second article.)

Krauß describes the process by which dream images arise from bodily stimuli as follows: the sensation that has been aroused, in accordance with some law of association, evokes a related mental image and combines with it to form an organic entity; however, consciousness relates to this entity differently than it normally would. For it pays no attention to the sensation itself but directs its focus entirely toward the accompanying mental images, which is precisely why this phenomenon could go unrecognised for so long (pp. 11 ff.). Krauß also uses a specific term for this process: the “transubstantiation” of sensations into dream images (p. 24).

While the influence of organic bodily stimuli on dream formation is almost universally acknowledged today, the question of the law governing the relationship between the two receives widely varying—and often obscure—answers. Within the framework of the bodily stimulus theory, the specific task of dream interpretation is to trace a dream’s content back to the organic stimuli that caused it; yet, unless one accepts the rules of interpretation discovered by Scherner, one is often confronted with the awkward fact that the source of the organic stimulus reveals itself through nothing other than the content of the dream itself.

However, there is a fairly consistent interpretation of various forms of dreams—called “typical” because they recur in so many people with very similar content. These include the well-known dreams of falling from a height, losing teeth, flying, and the embarrassment of being naked or scantily clad. The latter is said to arise simply from noticing, while asleep, that one has kicked off the bedclothes and is lying exposed. The dream of losing teeth is attributed to “dental irritation”—though this does not necessarily imply a pathological state of excitation in the teeth. According to Strümpell, the dream of flying is an apt image used by the psyche to interpret the quantity of stimulation arising from the rising and falling of the lungs, at a moment when tactile sensation in the chest has faded to the point of unconsciousness. It is this latter circumstance that mediates the sensation associated with the idea of ​​floating. The sensation of falling from a height is said to arise when—after conscious awareness of tactile pressure has been lost—an arm drops against the body, or a drawn-up knee suddenly straightens; this restores the sensation of tactile pressure to consciousness, while the transition to conscious awareness is psychically embodied as a dream of falling (Strümpell, p. 118). The weakness of these plausible explanatory attempts evidently lies in the fact that, without further evidence, they allow various groups of organic sensations either to vanish from mental perception or to force themselves upon it, simply in order to create the constellation favourable to the explanation. Incidentally, I shall have occasion later to return to these typical dreams and their origins.

M. Simon has attempted to derive certain rules regarding the influence of organic stimuli on the determination of dream content by comparing a series of similar dreams. He states (p. 34): If, during sleep, an organic system that normally participates in the expression of an affect enters—due to some other cause—the state of excitation into which it is otherwise thrown by that affect, then the resulting dream will contain ideas appropriate to that affect.

Another rule states (p. 35): If an organic system is active, excited, or disturbed during sleep, the dream will produce images related to the performance of the organic function carried out by that system.

Mourly Vold undertook the task of experimentally demonstrating, within a specific area, the influence on dream formation posited by the theory of somatic stimuli. He conducted experiments in which he altered the positions of the sleeper’s limbs and compared the resulting dreams with these modifications. He presents the following propositions as his findings.

  1. The position of a limb in a dream roughly corresponds to its position in reality; that is, one dreams of a static state of the limb that matches the actual one.
  2. When one dreams of the movement of a limb, that movement always takes a form in which one of the positions assumed during its execution corresponds to the actual position.
  3. One may also attribute the position of one’s own limb in a dream to another person.
  4. One may also dream that the movement in question is impeded.
  5. In the dream, the limb in the position concerned may appear as an animal or a monster, establishing a certain analogy between the two.
  6. The position of a limb in a dream can give rise to thoughts related to that limb; for instance, if one is occupied with one’s fingers, one dreams of numbers.
    From such findings, I would conclude that even the theory of somatic stimuli cannot entirely eliminate the apparent freedom involved in determining the dream images to be evoked.

It will continue, though I don’t yet know exactly when. On Monday I’m heading off again—not far this time, just to a nearby hospital for another surgery!
My last break (holiday) was a mix of heaven and hell. For about two weeks now, I’ve been spending a huge amount of time in the bathroom, and it’s absolutely no fun at all!!
Thank you all. Be safe and well. 🙏🤗💖

There is always a Beginning to Grasp the Whole! P 4

Standard
Stills from the Salvador Dalí-designed dream sequence in Spellbound (1945, dir. Alfred Hitchcock)

Most of the fundamental ideas of science are essentially simple and may, as a rule, be expressed in a language comprehensible to everyone.
~Albert Einstein

Today, I will continue from my previous instalment and share the second part of Freud’s chapter on how memories influence dreams.

Dr Freud reviews various researchers’ perspectives on dreams and offers several compelling examples of how human memories shape them.

(The title image I chose depicts a scene from one of my favourite Hitchcock films, in which Salvador Dali designed the sets for the dream sequences.)

The Material of Dreams—Memory in the Dream (Das Traummaterial – Das Gedächtnis im Traum)

The fact that the dream contains memories inaccessible to the waking state is so curious and theoretically significant that I wish to draw further attention to it by recounting other such “hypermnestic” dreams. Maury relates that, for a time, the word “Mussidan” would frequently come to his mind during the day. He knew it was the name of a French town, but nothing more. One night, he dreamt of a conversation with a certain individual who told him that she hailed from Mussidan; when he asked where the town was situated, she replied that Mussidan was a district town in the Département de la Dordogne. Upon waking, Maury placed no credence in the information he had received in his dream; however, a geographical dictionary informed him that it was entirely accurate. In this instance, the dream’s superior knowledge was confirmed, yet the forgotten source of that knowledge remained undiscovered.

Jessen recounts (p. 55) a very similar dream occurrence from earlier times: “To this category belongs, among others, the dream of the elder Scaliger (Hennings, *l. c.*, p. 300), who had written a poem in praise of the famous men of Verona; a man calling himself Brugnolus appeared to him in a dream and complained that he had been forgotten. Although Scaliger could not recall ever having heard of him, he nevertheless composed verses in his honour; his son subsequently learned in Verona that just such a Brugnolus had indeed once been renowned there as a critic.”

In a source to which I unfortunately do not have access (the *Proceedings of the Society for Psychical Research*), Myers is said to have published an entire collection of such hypermnestic dreams. I believe that anyone who occupies themselves with dreams must acknowledge that it is a very common phenomenon for a dream to bear witness to knowledge and memories which the waking subject does not suppose themselves to possess. In my psychoanalytic work with neurotic patients—which I shall discuss later—I find myself, several times a week, in a position to demonstrate to patients, based on their dreams, that they know quotations, obscene words, and the like very well, and that they make use of them in their dreams, even though they have forgotten them in their waking lives. I should like to share one harmless instance of dream hypermnesia here, as the source from which this knowledge—accessible only to the dream—originated was very easily traceable.

A patient dreamed—as part of a longer narrative sequence—that he was ordering a “Kontuszówka” for himself in a coffeehouse; however, when recounting the dream, he asked what on earth that might be, saying he had never heard the name before. I was able to reply that Kontuszówka is a Polish spirit—a name he could not possibly have invented in his dream, as I myself had long been familiar with it from posters. At first, the man refused to believe me. A few days later, after he had turned his dream into reality by ordering the drink in a coffeehouse, he noticed the name on a poster—specifically at a street corner he had been obliged to pass at least twice a day for months.

One of the sources from which the dream draws material for reproduction—material that, in part, is neither recalled nor utilised during waking thought—is childhood life. I shall cite only a few of the authors who have noted and emphasised this:

Hildebrandt (p. 23): “It has already been expressly acknowledged that the dream, at times, with a marvellous power of reproduction, faithfully brings back to our minds events that are quite remote and even forgotten, dating from the distant past.”

Strümpell (p. 40): “The matter becomes even more remarkable when one observes how the dream—at times, as it were, from beneath the deepest and most massive layers of sediment that later life has deposited upon the earliest experiences of youth—brings forth images of specific localities, objects, and persons, entirely intact and with their original freshness. This is not limited merely to such impressions as may have attained a vivid level of consciousness at the moment of their inception, or become imbued with strong psychological significance—impressions that subsequently reappear in the dream as genuine memories, in which the awakened consciousness takes delight. Rather, the depth of dream-memory encompasses also those images of persons, objects, localities, and experiences from earliest times which either possessed only a faint degree of consciousness or no psychological significance whatsoever—or which had long since lost both—and which, for this very reason, appear utterly strange and unfamiliar both within the dream and upon awakening, until their distant origin is finally discovered.”

Volkelt (p. 119): “It is particularly noteworthy how readily memories of childhood and youth find their way into dreams. Things we have long ceased to think about—matters that have long since lost all significance for us—the dream tirelessly reminds us of them.” The dream’s dominion over childhood material—which, as is well known, largely falls into the gaps of conscious memory—gives rise to interesting hypermnestic dreams, of which I shall, in turn, present a few examples.

Maury recounts (in *Le sommeil*, p. 92) that, as a child, he often travelled from his hometown of Meaux to nearby Trilport, where his father was supervising the construction of a bridge. One night, a dream transports him back to Trilport, allowing him to play once again in the town’s streets. A man approaches him, wearing a uniform. Maury asks for his name; he introduces himself as C… and says he is the bridge keeper. Upon waking—still doubting the memory’s reality—Maury asks an old servant, who has been with him since childhood, whether she can recall a man by that name. “Certainly,” comes the reply, “he was the keeper of the bridge your father built back then.”

Maury recounts another beautifully confirmed example of the accuracy of childhood memories surfacing in dreams, concerning a Mr F… who had grown up in Montbrison. Twenty-five years after leaving, this man decided to revisit his hometown and see old family friends he had not encountered since. On the night before his departure, he dreamed that he had arrived at his destination and, near Montbrison, met a gentleman whose appearance was unfamiliar to him; the man identified himself as Mr T., a friend of his father. The dreamer knew he had known a man by that name during childhood, but could not recall what he looked like while awake.
Upon actually arriving in Montbrison a few days later, he rediscovered the location from the dream—which he had previously not recognised—and met a gentleman whom he immediately identified as Mr T. from the dream. The real person had simply aged more than the figure in the dream image had suggested.

To be continued!

PS: I’ll translate and share the rest of this chapter in my next post. However, I’ve been told I need another surgery soon (the old problem is the new problem!), so I’m unsure when I can do so. Wishing all the best! 🤗💖

There is always a Beginning to Grasp the Whole! P. 1

Standard

One day, as I browsed my bookshelf, a heavy volume suddenly fell into my hands — it was the Collected Works (die Gesammelten Werke) of Sigmund Freud, a book I had almost forgotten. I had read some of Freud’s writings, especially during my time in Iran, but later I became deeply engaged with Jung’s work. When I opened the book, it felt as though a whisper told me that this was the foundation — something I hadn’t known before. I started reading, and it turned out to be completely true!

Sigmund Freud was an Austrian neurologist, the founder of psychoanalysis, and a pioneer in exploring the hidden aspects of the human mind, particularly the unconscious. He developed a clinical method to assess and treat psychological conflicts arising from inner struggles through patient-analyst dialogue, along with a unique theory of mind and human agency grounded in this approach.

I reached a point where understanding Sigmund Freud and his work would enhance our grasp of Carl Gustav Jung. Freud acts as the key unlocking the door into the unconscious, while Jung is the train guiding us through the hidden depths of our souls!

Therefore, I decided to translate and share his insights on communicating knowledge and experience, beginning with dreams and dream interpretation: The scientific literature on dream issues (Die wissenschaftliche Literatur der Traumprobleme). I will start with his scientific explanation—(a brief summary, of course, to keep it concise)—to help it be better understood.

The scientific literature on dream problems

In the following pages, I will show that a psychological technique exists for interpreting dreams, revealing each as a meaningful psychic construct linked to waking life. I will explain the processes behind dream strangeness and draw conclusions about the psychic forces involved. My presentation concludes by linking the problem of dreaming to broader issues that require other sources. I begin with a review of past research and current understanding, noting that little progress has been made despite centuries of effort. The existing literature offers insight and interesting material, but few definitive answers about dreams. Even educated laypeople have limited knowledge.

The first work to treat dreams as a psychological object is Aristotle’s On Dreams and Their Interpretation. He states that dreams are of a demonic, not divine, nature, but can reveal profound meanings if correctly interpreted. Aristotle notes characteristics such as dreams reinterpreting minor stimuli as large ones, suggesting they might show early signs of bodily changes unnoticed during the day. Due to limited knowledge, I haven’t deepened my understanding of his treatise. Before Aristotle, the ancients saw dreams as divine inspiration, distinguishing true dreams that warn or foretell from false, deceptive ones meant to mislead or harm. This view aligned with their worldview, projecting internal reality onto the external world. They believed dreams came from another world and considered their supernatural origin plausible, a view still held by some today, including mystical writers and certain philosophers such as Schellingians. The debate over dreams’ divinatory power continues, as scientific explanations remain insufficient to account for all dream phenomena.

Writing a history of our understanding of dream problems is difficult because, despite its value in certain areas, no clear progress is visible. No foundational results exist for future researchers to build on; instead, each author starts anew, as if from scratch. If I followed a chronological account of authors’ views, I couldn’t provide a clear overview of current dream knowledge. Thus, I structured the discussion by topic, citing the relevant literature to each dream problem.

Since I haven’t covered all scattered and extensive literature, I ask readers to be modest, assuming no fundamental facts or significant aspects are lost.

Until recently, most authors treated sleep and dreams together, often including analogous states like hallucinations or visions. Recently, work has focused more narrowly on specific questions within dream life. This shift reflects a belief that clear understanding and consensus require detailed investigations. I offer only such psychological investigation here, excluding sleep, which is mainly physiological, though sleep-related changes in mental function are acknowledged.

Freud (assuming these are his words) highlights that psychoanalysis and psychotherapy aim to uncover repressed, unconscious memories and create a supportive environment where these ‘traumas’ can be expressed through language and contact. Whether he explicitly said these words is irrelevant, as his writings demonstrate that he held these beliefs.

The scientific interest in dream phenomena prompts several overlapping questions:

The relationship between dreams and waking life (Beziehung des Traumes zum Wachleben)

The naive judgement of the awakened person assumes that the dream—if it does not originate in another world—has at least transported the sleeper to one. The old physiologist Burdach, to whom we owe a careful and subtle description of dream phenomena, expressed this conviction in a much-noted sentence (p. 474): “…the life of the day, with its efforts and pleasures, its joys and sorrows, is never repeated; rather, the dream aims to free us from them. Even if our whole soul has been filled with an object, if deep pain has torn our inner being, or a task has consumed all our mental power, the dream either gives us something entirely alien, or it takes only individual elements from reality for its combinations, or it merely adopts the tone of our mood and symbolises reality.”

L. Strümpell expresses a similar sentiment in his rightly acclaimed study of the nature and origin of dreams (p. 16): “Whoever dreams is turned away from the world of waking consciousness”… (p. 17): “In dreams, the memory of the ordered content of waking consciousness and its normal behaviour is almost entirely lost…” (p. 19): “The almost memoryless isolation of the soul in dreams from the regular content and course of waking life…”

However, the vast majority of authors have held the opposite view on the relationship between dreams and waking life. For example, Haffner (p. 19) states: “First of all, dreams continue waking life. Our dreams always connect to the ideas that were present in our consciousness shortly beforehand. Close observation will almost always find a thread in which the dream linked to the experiences of the previous day.” Weygandt (p. 6) directly contradicts Burdach’s assertion quoted above, “for it can often be observed, apparently in the vast majority of dreams, that they lead us right back into ordinary life, instead of freeing us from it.” Maury (Le sommeil et les rêves, p. 56) states in a concise formula: “nous rêvons de ce que nous avons vu, dit, desiré ou fait”(We dream of what we have seen, said, desired, or done.); Jessen, in his psychology published in 1855 (p. 530), elaborates somewhat more: “More or less, the content of dreams is always determined by the individual personality, by age, gender, social class, level of education, accustomed way of life, and by the events and experiences of the entire life to date.”

To be continued! 🙏💖

Human Values are not Rooted in the Possession of Power!

Standard

I am writing another post on politics because I believe it is a relevant issue in our current lives and a crucial concept for shaping society in the best way for everyone. This time, I selected a section from Plato’s book, The Republic, to learn from and reflect on what it should or wishes to be, as I consider it timeless. It explores how Plato analyses the motivations for seeking power, the risks of selfish ambition, and his concept of philosopher-kings who govern out of duty and virtue instead of personal gain. The essay emphasises Plato’s view that genuine political authority should prioritise justice and the common good over individual interests.

Carl Jung interpreted Plato’s politics, especially in The Republic, not as literal plans but as symbols of the collective unconscious. He regarded Plato’s “Forms” as psychic archetypes, with the “ideal state” shaping human qualities such as vision, wisdom, and power in the external world. Jung believed these political ideas originated from the “collective unconscious,” where perfect Forms such as justice exist. He also saw the ideal state as a psychological model, with the philosopher-king symbolising the self and social classes representing parts of the soul. By viewing Platonism as psychology, Jung considered himself a successor to Plato, identifying the “Forms” as archetypal patterns within the psyche. Additionally, he saw the “Cave” allegory as a way to convey deep psychological truths that are otherwise hard to express.

Carl Jung Depth Psychology

Plato’s Republic is a foundational text of Western philosophy, exploring justice, the ideal state, and political power. The dialogue examines what motivates individuals to seek power and how societal structures can corrupt or uplift those in authority. Plato, through Socrates, argues that the desire for power is often driven by basic urges—such as ambition, greed, and personal gain. However, he maintains that true power should serve the common good rather than personal interests. The philosopher-kings in Plato’s city are chosen for wisdom, virtue, and reluctance to rule, not for a craving for power. Plato believes the best rulers govern out of duty and justice, and warns against unchecked power, which can lead to tyranny. He emphasises education and virtue, claiming that only those who transcend personal desires are fit to hold power responsibly. Ultimately, the Republic views power as a moral duty, not an end in itself, aimed at justice and societal harmony. It urges reconsideration of who should rule, emphasising leadership for the greater good rather than personal gain.
Yet recently, it seems we have strayed from this goal!

The Pursuit of Political Authority in Plato’s Republic.

These passages from Plato’s Republic, spoken by Socrates, contend that the main goal of a craft—such as medicine or architecture—is to serve its subject, not the craftsman. Income (pay) comes from a separate, related “fee-earning art,” rather than the craft itself. [Thrasymachus was a Chalcedonian (from Chalcedon on the Bosphorus, near Byzantium), active around 430-400 B.C. He was a sophist and rhetorician, best known for arguing that “Justice is the interest of the stronger.”]   (Oxford Classical Dictionary 2e)

It might seem like a complex philosophical argument, but Socrates has always aimed to clarify his reasoning through detailed questioning to make it easier to understand. I hope you find this reading enjoyable!

Event Date: -425 GR

(§ 346d) The receiving of wages does not accrue to each from his own art. But if we are to consider it ‘precisely’, medicine produces health but the fee-earning art the pay, and architecture a house but the fee-earning art accompanying it the fee, and so with all the others, each performs its own task and benefits that over which it is set, but unless pay is added to it is there any benefit which the craftsman receives from the craft?”

(§ 346e) “Apparently not,” he said. “Does he then bestow no benefit either when he works for nothing?”I’ll say he does.”
“Then, Thrasymachus, is not this immediately apparent, that no art or office provides what is beneficial for itself, but as we said long ago, it provides and enjoins what is beneficial to its subject, considering the advantage of that, the weaker, and not the advantage of the stronger? That was why, friend Thrasymachus, I was just now saying that no one of his own will chooses to hold rule and office and take other people’s troubles in hand to straighten them out, but everybody expects pay for that,

(§ 347a) because he who is to exercise the art rightly never does what is best for himself or enjoins it when he gives commands according to the art, but what is best for the subject. That is the reason, it seems, why pay must be provided for those who are to consent to rule, either in the form of money or honour or a penalty if they refuse.”
“What do you mean by that, Socrates?” said Glaucon. “The two wages I recognise, but the penalty you speak of and described as a form of wage I don’t understand.”
“Then,” said I, “you don’t understand the wages of the best men…

(§ 347b) for the sake of which the finest spirits hold office and rule when they consent to do so. Don’t you know that to be covetous of honour and covetous of money is said to be and is a reproach?”
“I do,” he said. “Well, then,” said I, “that is why the good are not willing to rule either for the sake of money or of honour. They do not wish to collect pay openly for their service of rule and be styled hirelings, nor to take it by stealth from their office and be called thieves, nor yet for the sake of honour,

(§ 347c) for they are not covetous of honour. So, some compulsion and penalty must be imposed to constrain them to rule if they are to consent to hold office. That is perhaps why to seek office oneself and not await compulsion is thought disgraceful. But the chief penalty is to be governed by someone worse if a man will not himself hold office and rule. It is from fear of this, as it appears to me, that the better sort hold office when they do, and then they go to it not in the expectation of enjoyment nor as to a good thing, but as to a necessary evil and because they are unable to turn it over to better men than themselves…

(§ 347d) or to their like. For we may venture to say that, if there should be a city of good men only, immunity from office-holding would be as eagerly contended for as office is now, and there it would be made plain that in very truth the true ruler does not naturally seek his own advantage but that of the ruled; so that every man of undjusticeing would rather choose to be benefited by another than to be bothered with benefiting him. This point, then, I…

(§ 347e) by no means concede to Thrasymachus that justice is the advantage of the superior. But we will reserve that for another occasion. A far weightier matter, to me, seems to be Thrasymachus’s present statement, his assertion that the life of the unjust man is better than that of the just. Which now do you choose, Glaucon?” said I, “and which seems to you to be the truer statement?”
“That the life of the just man is more profitable, I say,” he replied.

‘Defensiveness’ from Feminist Perspective on Resistance

Standard

Today, I want to share a throwback to one of my Facebook posts from a few weeks ago, of course, more extensive, perhaps for a change, and because of this fascinating woman in the history of psychology.
Actually, I’ve also been considering writing about Sigmund Freud, the originator of psychoanalysis, and this might be a good starting point.

Honestly, I previously didn’t know much about Anna Freud, or rather, I didn’t think highly of her. However, after watching the film ‘Freud’s Last Session‘ about Sigmund Freud’s final days, her brief appearance still caught my attention.

Anna Freud was a trailblazing psychoanalyst who made significant contributions to child psychology. Born in Vienna in 1895, the youngest daughter of Sigmund Freud, she grew up in an intellectually stimulating environment. She was deeply interested in her father’s work and eventually became his close collaborator. Originally trained as a teacher, Anna developed a keen interest in children’s development. In the 1920s, she began psychoanalytic training and started working with children, establishing Vienna’s first child psychoanalysis clinic in 1927. At this clinic, she developed innovative observation and treatment methods. Her influential book, “The Ego and the Mechanisms of Defence” (1936), built on her father’s theories by explaining how the ego defends against anxiety through mechanisms such as repression and denial. Fleeing the Nazis in 1938, she settled in London, where she co-founded the Hampstead Child Therapy Course and Clinic, a prominent centre for child psychoanalysis. Anna emphasised the importance of observing children in their natural settings and customising therapy to each child’s needs. Her contributions remain influential in psychoanalysis and child psychology, setting new standards through her research and clinical work.

Anna Freud with her father, Sigmund, 1928 near Berlin (picture alliance / Mary Evans Picture Library)
This photograph captures Sigmund Freud walking with his daughter Anna Freud, likely during a summer holiday on the Ritten plateau near Bolzano, Italy.

In her 1936 work “The Ego and the Mechanisms of Defence,” Anna Freud identified defence mechanisms as unconscious protections employed by the ego. These mechanisms serve to shield individuals from anxiety, shame, and the instinctual urges of the id that the superego prohibits. Among the major defence mechanisms are repression, projection, reaction formation, regression, and sublimation.

In the film mentioned above, I noticed she had no relationships with men. There is no public or scholarly evidence regarding her sexuality. She never married but had close relationships with women, especially Dorothy Burlingham, her lifelong partner and collaborator. Some biographers speculate about their relationship, but Anna Freud never publicly discussed her sexuality, and no records confirm whether she was lesbian, bisexual, or otherwise. Her private life was discreet, centred on work and family. Any discussion of her sexuality is largely speculative, based on personal correspondence and life choices.

Children have an almost uncanny instinct for the teacher’s personal shortcomings.
They know the false from the true far better than one likes to admit.
Therefore, the teacher should monitor his own psychic condition so he can spot the source of trouble when anything goes wrong with the children entrusted to his care.
Civilisation in Transition (The Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Volume 10)

via Carl Jung DepthPsychology 🙏

Thank you all for your support and presence. Wishing you a peaceful weekend. 🙏🌹

What a Pity!

Standard

As I hover over the news and feel the hangover from all this stress, I give my mind another chance to relax by jotting down a few words.
Of course, I didn’t swear an oath to post every week (like some, daily; oh my goodness, save me!😛). However, as I mentioned in my last post, I need to talk to my “Patient Stone” to help me gather my scattered thoughts.

Honestly, I have numerous projects and ideas to pursue and share, but my busy mind is too preoccupied to concentrate on them. On the other hand, I had to delete many of my old posts because WP warned me that my 13 GB storage limit was full, leaving me with the choice of upgrading or deleting. Since I couldn’t afford to upgrade, I had no option but to delete them. Now I have some space to post more!

I think, as well as believe, that the animals have their own characters and, in their own instinctual life, have their own species-specific way of living, even though we compare some of them, like sheep, with humans in the form of messes.

Dr Jung viewed “mass-mindedness” and mass psychology as perilous, believing crowds trigger “the dynamisms of the collective man,” transforming individuals into “beasts or demons” until they join a mob. Crowds diminish morality, incite fears, provoke “infantile behaviour,” and can cause even the most virtuous to lose their significance, resulting in “psychologically abnormal” individuals. Mobs foster “herd psychology” and produce “mass man,” who is childish, irrational, irresponsible, and emotional. The crowd dissolves personal responsibility, facilitating crimes and increasing reliance on the state.

The levelling down of the masses through suppression of the aristocratic or hierarchical structure natural to a community is bound, sooner or later, to lead to disaster. For when everything outstanding is levelled down, the signposts are lost, and the longing to be led becomes an urgent necessity.
~Carl Jung, CW 17, Para 248

Now, I’d like to share one of my Facebook posts that reflects my thoughts. It is a poem by Lawrence Ferlinghetti, a notable American poet, painter, and social activist. Ferlinghetti published works of many Beat poets and is sometimes considered a Beat poet himself, although he never liked that label!

You are Whitman, you are Poe, you are Mark Twain, you are Emily Dickinson and Edna St. Vincent Millay, you are Neruda and Mayakovsky and Pasolini, you are an American or a non-American, you can conquer the conquerors with words….
~ Lawrence Ferlinghetti. From Poetry as Insurgent Art [I am signalling you through the flames].

Pity the Nation (After Khalil Gibran)

Pity the nation whose people are sheep
And whose shepherds mislead them
Pity the nation whose leaders are liars
Whose sages are silenced
and whose bigots haunt the airways
Pity the nation that raises not its voice
but aims to rule the world
by force and by torture
And knows
No other language but its own
Pity the nation whose breath is money
and sleeps the sleep of the too well fed
Pity the nation, oh, pity the people of my country
My country, tears of thee
Sweet land of liberty!

I’d also like to share one of Mozart’s greatest works, a requiem, to comfort the spirits. Wishing all individuals friends a peaceful time. 💖🙏

Searching for the Eternal Girl/Boy P. 3 Puella Aeterna/Puer Aeternus and Corne/Senex

Standard

I’ll borrow life and not grow old;
And nightingales and trees
Shall keep me, though the veins be cold,
As young as Sophocles.
And when I may no longer live,
They’ll say, who knows the truth,
He gave whate’er he had to give
To Freedom and to Youth.
~William Corey, Master at Eton c. 1850-1870

Success achieved, he never stays
For only by never staying does he not depart.
~Dao Tzu, Dao De Jing.
From Now or Neverland, p. 156

In this third part, let’s revisit the inspiring book, Now or Neverland, which motivated me to write these articles.

Here’s a brief essay on Now or Neverland by Ann Yeoman:

Ann Yeoman’s book “Now or Neverland: Peter Pan and the Myth of Eternal Youth” analyses the enduring charm of J.M. Barrie’s story, emphasising its psychological and mythological elements. She interprets Neverland as a metaphor for humanity’s longing to escape time and mortality. Yeoman considers Peter Pan an archetype embodying wonder and the peril of avoiding growth.
She explains that Neverland represents the myth of eternal youth—a place where responsibilities cease. This dream enables Peter to evade adult challenges but also leads him to miss meaningful relationships and personal development. Her study suggests Barrie’s tale celebrates youth but also warns against escapism.
In “Now or Neverland,” Yeoman encourages reflection on individual perceptions of time, change, and maturation, transforming a children’s story into a profound meditation on memory, imagination, and ageing.

Yesterday, I attended a birthday party for a dear family member, where my grandchildren were also present. I hadn’t seen them in a long time due to my illness and hospital stay. As always, I was the only adult the kids enjoyed playing with, because they knew the child in me well. It reminded me of what Yeoman mentioned in her book:

…Paradoxically, whereas lightness, freedom and space may be the necessary conditions for play, play itself is far from light, in that it has the capacity to ground one in the wholeness of one’s being. In a discussion of the importance of play in childhood, Anthony Stevens cites Johan Huizinga’s claim, in Homo Ludens, his work on the subject of play, that “in play there is something ‘at play’ which transcends the immediate needs of life.” This is because the archetypal activities of human life are filled with possibilities for play. Notes Stevens:

Hence, Schiller’s famous aphorism, “Man is only truly himself when he is at play.”
… Childhood is a period of immense vitality and inventiveness, when imagination is given free rein to complement the realities or compensate for the deficiencies of everyday existence…
It is one of the misfortunes of growing up that we readily lose touch with this rich land of childhood … Yet nothing is lost to the Self, and play, like the child who sponsors it, lives on as a propensity of the psyche to its dying day. (250On Jung, pp. 87f.)

What is of particular interest in our discussion of Barrie is Stevens’s emphasis that fantasy, as introverted play,

is the product of play between the archetypes of the collective unconscious and the living circumstances of the individual. . . . Fantasy is not a regressive means of escape from reality . . . but the modus operandi of psychological growth: it is the stuff of life, leading us on into the future. (251 Ibid., pp. 88f.)

Play and fantasy lead us into the future because they make us creators. They legitimise our re-formation and re-creation of the world, allowing us to remember and so re-deem the scattered fragments of ordinary life. They make us gods for an hour or a day, enabling an activity which affirms our sense of Self because it affords unlimited scope to our desire for realisation, fulfilment and creative power in a world of our own making that is secret and therefore safe. The task of the artist is then to establish a vital connection between the hidden world of possibility and the world of actuality.

However, according to Winnicott, the “place” of play and fantasy is precarious, “because it belongs to the interplay in the . . . mind of that which is subjective (near-hallucination) and that which is objectively perceived (actual or shared reality).” (Playing and Reality, p. 61)

…This place is the No-man’s land, an intermediary realm of the imagination that the artist must continually interpret and re-interpret. Here, one might encounter the god-child, buried deep in the personality. The challenge for the writer, like Barrie, who feels more at home in the imaginal realm, is to interpret such experiences within the real world. But in Peter Pan, Barrie’s two worlds remain as opposed at the end as at the beginning, with no space in the Edwardian world for the richness found in Neverland. Ultimately, Barrie cannot show that reality offers room for self-fulfilment, unlike other children’s classics such as Grahame’s The Wind in the Willows or Milne’s Winnie-the-Pooh.

In Barrie, there’s an apparent devaluation of cosy domesticity and an iconoclastic streak visible in his work, especially in Peter Pan and other heroes resembling Peter’s mysterious presence. We find in Peter Pan the masculine energy of the trickster, a mythic figure known as a lawbreaker who embodies instinctual desires. (Barbara Greenfield, “The Archetypal Masculine,” in Andrew Samuels, ed., The Father, p. 192.)

The trickster often marks an early stage in the development of the heroic ego, reflecting nature’s transformative power while resisting change. Barrie’s hero also resists transformation, with little evidence of active sexuality or development beyond a boy-trickster to a mature hero or Wise Old Man. Instead, Peter Pan’s iconoclasm risks becoming an idol of boyish rebellion for its own sake.

(Ibid., p. 191. Greenfield argues that “The boy, Don Juan, and the trickster show us the ego in its early stages of development, while the hero, the father and the wise old man represent later stages of development. As a whole, the animus, or male archetype, unifies these disparate figures because it exists as those principles which underlie them all.” She suggests that the most powerful mythological forms of the masculine archetype are those of the father and the trickster, claiming the trickster as “an early incarnation of the father” rather than an archetype separate from that of the father, as it is treated by Jung. Her view supports our earlier discussion of the inherent similarities of Peter Pan and Hook and is useful when individual development and personal pathology are the issue. However, what we may describe as the “creative iconoclasm” of the Self in its impulse to further consciousness favours Jung’s treatment of the trickster and his recognition of its essential and constant role in the archetypal drama of the psyche. Perhaps this presents a case for “both/and” rather than “either/or” terminology; and for a concept of co-existing levels of activity rather than a more linear development from one stage to the next, with only faint traces of earlier characteristics evident in the later stages.)

Remember to cherish the child within you; thank you! 🙏

Edgar Allan Poe and Herman Melville

Standard

Hello friends!

I am back for a while from my holiday trip, although I am not fully recovered from a cold I caught a week ago, which I am still fighting to get rid of (it seems my immune system has been damaged after that problem earlier this year!). I didn’t plan to make a post today, but when I came across an article about the relationship between Poe and Melville, which I didn’t know about, I thought I would share it with you. Indeed, I should mention that I once published an article on Allan Poe; here it is!

As a new New Yorker, I once travelled across three boroughs to Woodlawn Cemetery to visit Herman Melville’s grave. I didn’t worship him as a hero but as a friend. Through the words of Professor Angela O’Donnell, who says that reading great writers is like having a conversation with them and fosters intimacy, I promised to visit often. Still, I was distracted by city life and never went back. However, a friend of another 19th-century American author never missed a visit.
The Baltimore Sun reports that, for decades, an anonymous “Poe Toaster” left three roses and a bottle of cognac at Edgar Allan Poe’s grave every January 19th. His mystery remains unsolved, as does Poe’s own death.

On October 7, 1849, the literary community remembered Edgar Allan Poe, a master of the macabre whose death remains shrouded in mystery. Although his anniversary has passed, his short, tragic life and death remain deeply saddening. He was found delirious on Baltimore’s streets, and the exact cause of his death remains unclear, speculated to be linked to alcoholism, rabies, or other health issues.

In the days leading up to his death, Poe grappled with personal turmoil and bouts of depression, reflecting the dark themes prevalent in his writing. His life mirrored the tragedies he explored—loss, madness, and mortality.

As we remember Poe, we not only honour his legacy as a pioneering voice in Gothic literature but also reflect on the profound connections between art and the struggles of existence, inviting us to confront the deeper aspects of the human condition he so eloquently captured.

The relationship between Edgar Allan Poe and Herman Melville is a compelling exploration of two iconic figures in American literature, whose works have shaped literary history. Both authors are monumental, yet their life paths and artistic styles diverged significantly, revealing profound themes of existentialism and the complexities of the human experience.

Edgar Allan Poe, born in 1809 in Boston, faced a tumultuous early life marked by personal tragedies. Orphaned as a child, he experienced the pain of loss that profoundly influenced his writing. His struggles with poverty and alcoholism fueled the dark themes in his work. Masterfully crafted tales such as “The Raven,” “The Tell-Tale Heart,” and “The Fall of the House of Usher” explore death, madness, and despair, establishing Poe as a master of horror and Gothic literature.

In contrast, Herman Melville, born in 1819 in New York City, enjoyed a more privileged upbringing that was disrupted by his father’s early death. This formative loss set him on a path of adventure at sea, which culminated in his magnum opus, “Moby-Dick.” Melville’s works engage with grand themes of nature and humanity, showcasing a narrative style that embodies the complexities of existence and human ambition.

Despite their differences, Melville and Poe respected each other’s literary talents. Poe’s sharp critiques of Melville’s early works, such as “Typee,” acknowledged Melville’s gift while highlighting differences in their narrative styles. Poe favoured compact storytelling, while Melville embraced sprawling narratives laden with existential questions.

Both writers engaged with themes of death and isolation, particularly evident in Melville’s Captain Ahab, who mirrors the psychological depths of Poe’s characters. Their respective narratives challenge audiences to confront profound aspects of the human condition. Timing also affected their careers; though Poe achieved fame earlier, Melville’s “Moby-Dick” was initially overlooked, though it would eventually be recognised as a key literary work.

Ultimately, the legacies of both authors flourished posthumously, with Poe celebrated for his innovative contributions to literature and Melville emerging as a foundational figure. This interplay between the two writers encourages contemporary readers to explore the connections that define their works.

In conclusion, the relationship between Poe and Melville offers a striking study of contrasting yet complementary voices in American literature. Their distinct views on existential despair and the human experience create a rich tapestry that continues to inspire and intrigue, leaving a lasting impact on generations of writers and readers alike.

Thanks, and have a good time, everybody.

Searching for the Eternal Girl/Boy P. 2 Puella Aeterna/Puer Aeternus and Corne/Senex

Standard

The dynamic principle of fantasy is play, a characteristic also of the child, and as such, it appears inconsistent with the principle of serious work. But without this playing with fantasy, no creative work has ever yet come to birth. The debt we owe to the play of imagination is incalculable. It is, therefore, short-sighted to treat fantasy, on account of its risky or unacceptable nature, as a thing of little worth.
~Carl Jung; Psychological Types Ch. 1; Page 82.
Fantasy is the creative function—the living form is a result of fantasy. Fantasy is a pre-stage of the symbol, but it is an essential characteristic of the symbol that it is not mere fantasy.
~Carl Jung, 1925 Seminar, Page 11
Source: Carl Jung Depth Psychology

Continuing from the first part of my blog, I recall the days when Al and I created our own worlds, feeling utterly disconnected from the outside world. My childhood was filled with dreams and wishes, driven by my imagination and a touch of fantasy. Perhaps it was my name that ignited my desire to make my wishes come true, with a hint of magic.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to be treated like a child. I don’t know what the issue was; maybe it was because I’d been isolated at that age. I mean, there we were, a group of five boys, Al and me, including three cousins, all nearly the same age. One of the cousins, Ham, who was around Al’s age, about two years older than me, and the other two were roughly two years younger than me, and I was stuck in the middle.

Dream Catcher by Michael Cheval

As I remember, one evening in Mashhad, when we were visiting our aunt, we were playing hide and seek — a game like ‘catch me if you can find me!’ I was so engrossed in the game that I didn’t notice Al and Ham were missing. At first, when I caught my breath from running around to find a hiding spot, I thought, ‘What’s going on with me?’ and scolded myself for acting like a child. But then I got angry when I found out Al and Ham weren’t playing with us – they were off to see a movie, and I wanted to be there with them so badly! In the evening, when we gathered again, Al and Ham began by making a reference and a joke about the movie, which I remember was called Madame. This made me feel jealous and sad. It was so obvious that my mother recognised it and tried to comfort me, but to me, her effort was like giving milk to a crying infant! So I felt even more alone and forsaken.

In Ann Yeoman’s book, we can read:
…In terms of personality traits, a strong emotional attachment to what we may call the mother-realm manifests on the one hand in a certain preciousness, a sense of specialness and difference, a fictional example of which we see in James Joice’s young hero Stephen, who is always “on the fringe,” a little apart from his fellows, an isolate. On the other hand, when out of the province of the mother and, metaphorically, the reach of the mother’s watchful eye, the mother’s son experiences an incapacity to stand on his own and embrace the risks, challenges and unpredictable fullness of life, or realise the courage “to live, to err, to fall, to triumph, to recreate life out of life,”> to cite Joice once again>(A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Amn, p. 172).
As a result, the puer remains dissociated from his feelings. In order to shield himself unconsciously from suffering, he protects himself from the possibility of abandonment, rejection and disappointment with an array of defences which prevent him from fully committing himself to life in the first place.
Jung describes the neurosis of such a “mother’s boy” in terms of a “secret conspiracy between mother and so…. [in which] each helps the other to betray life” He continues:

Where does the guilt lie? With the mother, or with the son? Probably with both. The unsatisfied longing of the son for life and the world ought to be taken seriously. There is in him a desire to touch reality, to embrace the earth and fructify the field of the world.
But he makes no more than a series of fitful starts, for his initiative as well as his staying power are crippled by the secret memory that the world and happiness may be had as a gift from the mother. The fragment of the world which he, like every man, must encounter again and again is never quite the right one, since it does not fall into his lap, does not meet him halfway, but remains resistant, has to be conquered, and submits only to force.
It makes demands on the masculinity of a man, on his ardour, above all on his courage and resolution when it comes to throwing his whole being into the scales. For this, he would need a faithless Eros, one capable of forgetting his mother and undergoing the pain of relinquishing the first love of his life.
~Carl Jung, The Syzygy, Anima & Animus, Aion, CW 9ii, par. 20-21

I may laugh at that event now, but as I recall every detail, it seems it left a particular impression on me. I know I wanted to be noticed and taken seriously. However, my mother, as she always had, saw me as her lost daughter. That’s why, when I finally found my solitude, it was mostly when I woke early in the morning in my bed and looked out of the window into the street, where the summer breeze made the leaves of the poplar tree dance. I immersed myself in my fantasy world and let my imagination run freely.

I will definitely try to write another episode.🙏💖

Searching for the Eternal Girl/Boy P. 1 Puella Aeterna/Puer Aeternus and Corne/Senex

Standard

Does fantasy lead to escape, or to the embracing of a new perspective? In other words, does it support psychic growth or impede it? That distinction is often complicated by paradox, but it helps to ask ourselves, “Is concentrating on this fantasy or daydream opening my creative possibilities, or is this sapping my ego strength in the real world?” ~Marion Woodman

This excerpt begins Marion Woodman‘s foreword from Ann Yeoman’s book, Now or Neverland, which I read some time ago, thanks to Deborah Gregory‘s recommendation, and I am very grateful for it.

Frankly, when I began reading this book, I felt at home; I saw myself as a puer aeternus, struggling to stay balanced on life’s rollercoaster.

Traditionally, the term ‘puer aeternus’ (Latin for ‘eternal boy’) is used to describe a child-god who remains eternally young. In Carl Jung’s psychology, it refers to an older person whose emotional life remains stuck in adolescence, often referred to as the “Peter Pan syndrome”. Jung suggests that the puer lives a “provisional life” due to a fear of being trapped. They seek independence, resist boundaries, and find restrictions intolerable. In Greek mythology, the term ‘puer aeternus’ originates from the Metamorphoses, an epic poem by Roman poet Ovid (43 BC – c. 17 AD) that explores Greek and Roman myths. Ovid refers to the child-god Iacchus as “puer aeternus” and praises his role in the Eleusinian mysteries. Iacchus is linked to Dionysus and Eros. The puer represents a deity of vegetation, resurrection, and divine youth, similar to Tammuz, Attis, and Adonis.

Senex is a Latin term that literally means “old man.” It can also be used to describe: a wise, elderly person, an archetype. The wise older person (also known as senex, sage, or sophos) is an archetype outlined by Carl Jung, as well as a familiar literary figure, often portrayed as a stock character. Such a figure can be a profound philosopher renowned for wisdom and sound judgment.

Marie-Louise Von Franz summarised her view of the puer as follows:
None of his reactions are particularly personal or special. He becomes a type—the type of the puer aeternus. He becomes an archetype, and if you become that, you are not at all original… He is merely the archetype of the eternal-youth god, and, therefore, he has all the features of the god: he has a nostalgic longing for death, he thinks of himself as being something special, and he is the one sensitive being among all the other tough sheep. He will have a problem with an aggressive, destructive shadow that he will not want to live with and generally projects. There is nothing special whatsoever. The worse the identification with the youthful god, the less individual the person, although he himself feels so special. (Puer Aeternus, pp. 121f)
Another type of puer that does not display the charm of eternal youth, nor does the archetype of the divine youth shine through him. On the contrary, he lives in a continual sleepy daze, and that, too, is a typical adolescent characteristic… The sleepy daze is only an outer aspect, however, and if you can penetrate it, you will find that a lively fantasy life is being cherished within. (Puer Aeternus, p.2)

Reflecting on my childhood, after my father passed away and my mother kept it a secret from my brother Al and me, I became very introverted. Once I learned the truth, I simply didn’t want to grow up. Al and I drew closer because of our mother’s lie, and over time, during our youth, we swapped roles as eternal children. Initially, I wanted to remain a child forever, while Al, aware of our father’s death almost from the moment it happened, tried to act as a mature older brother to look after me.

As we entered puberty, our roles underwent significant changes. I developed a strong sexual desire much earlier and believed I had to act like a man to attract girls, while Al began creating his own solitary world. For many years, this condition persisted. Although I was accepted into Al’s world and was part of it, I was the one who had to maintain contact with the outside world. As a result, I assumed the role of the senex, but I longed for my puer aeternus and tried to keep it concealed yet protected.

Let’s conclude this now, and I look forward to discussing this topic further in the next part. 🖖🙏