consciousness

There is always a Beginning to Grasp the Whole! P 6

Standard

I remember watching an intriguing film, A Dangerous Method, years ago, directed by David Cronenberg. It’s based on Christopher Hampton’s play and is “drawn from true-life events.” The film offers a fictionalised account of the complex six-year relationship between Sigmund Freud and Carl Jung, including a period when they shared a patient, Sabina Spielrein. I find the dynamic between Freud and Jung fascinating, and their connection with the remarkable Sabina Spielrein adds even more intrigue.

Before I proceed with my translation of Freud’s dream analysis (The last part, here!), I want to begin with a brief essay by Susan E. Schwartz, a Jungian Analyst, on the intriguing relationship between Jung and Freud. My thanks go to Laura London for sharing it on @JungianLaura on X. It is definitely included in an episode of Speaking of Jung: Interviews with Jungian Analysts.

“From Jung’s point of view, Freud initially fulfilled the role of a respected father figure. Jung hoped to have the autonomy and freedom to pursue his scientific enquiry, based on Freud’s ideas but revised in light of his own research. This research led to his interpretations, revisions, and additions, including his views on the nature and function of libido, and to the broadening of ideas about the complex and the collective unconscious. Jung’s ideas meant departing from the Freudian focus on the Oedipus complex by incorporating universal archetypal themes and by elaborating and reinterpreting the concept of the Self.

Jung and Freud ended their powerful, earth-shaking connection, leaving a compelling residue of feelings, concepts, and differences that influenced subsequent followers. Their mutual, unconscious and unmet expectations left the profession in opposition. Over the years, they have remained polarised like those dysfunctional fathers and sons who cannot communicate, include each other or share ideas.”
(Though I tend more towards Tesla and Edson as examples, mine!)

~Susan E. Schwartz, PhD, Absent Fathers, Yearning Sons: A Jungian Analysis of the Father-Son Dynamic, p. 61

Photo by Liam Daniel. From the film, A Dangerous Method (since we don’t have many photos of Jung and Freud together).

Let’s explore Freud’s attempt to interpret dreams. Although it might seem somewhat primitive, there’s much to learn from these basic perspectives. As Dr Jung states,

“one of the most important sources of the primitive belief in spirits is dreams. People often appear as actors in dreams, and primitive individuals easily believe these figures to be spirits or ghosts. For them, dreams hold a much greater significance than they do for civilised people.” ~Carl Jung, CW 8, Para 574

Dream Stimuli and Dream Sources (Traumreize und Traumquellen)

What is meant by “dream stimuli” and “dream sources” can be illustrated by referring to the popular saying, “Dreams come from the stomach.” Underlying these concepts is a theory that views the dream as the result of a disturbance to sleep. One would not have dreamed had something disturbing not stirred during sleep, and the dream is the reaction to that disturbance.

Discussions of the precipitating causes of dreams occupy the greatest space in authors’ accounts. It goes without saying that this problem could only arise once the dream had become a subject of biological research. The ancients, who regarded the dream as a divine message, had no need to seek a source of stimulation for it; the dream originated in the will of a divine or demonic power, and its content derived from that power’s knowledge or intention. For science, the question immediately arose as to whether the stimulus for dreaming was always the same or could be manifold, and with this came the consideration of whether the causal explanation of the dream fell within the province of psychology or, rather, of physiology. Most authors seem to assume that the causes of sleep disturbance—that is, the sources of dreaming—can take many forms, and that somatic stimuli, no less than mental excitations, can serve as dream instigators. Opinions, however, diverge widely on which of these dream sources should be prioritised and how they should be ranked by their significance in the dream’s formation.

When the enumeration of the sources of dreams is complete, four types emerge—which have also been used to classify dreams:
1) External (objective) sensory excitation.
2) Internal (subjective) sensory excitation.
3) Internal (organic) bodily stimulus.
4) Sources of stimulation that are purely psychic.

Sigmund Freud in his study.

Ad 1) The external sensory stimuli (Die äußeren Sinnesreize)

The younger Strümpell—son of the philosopher whose work on dreams has already served us several times as a guide to the problems of dreaming—famously reported the case of a patient suffering from general anaesthesia of the body surface and paralysis of several higher sense organs. Whenever the few remaining sensory gateways to the outside world were closed off for this man, he would fall asleep. When we wish to go to sleep, we all tend to seek a situation resembling the one in Strümpell’s experiment: we close the most important sensory gateways—our eyes—and try to shield the other senses from any stimulus or any change in the stimuli acting upon them. We then fall asleep, even though we never fully succeed in this endeavour; we can neither completely keep stimuli away from our sense organs nor entirely eliminate the excitability of those organs. The fact that we can be awakened at any time by stronger stimuli serves as proof that “the mind remains in continuous connection with the external world even during sleep.” The sensory stimuli that reach us during sleep can very well become sources of dreams.

There is a wide range of such stimuli—from the inevitable ones inherent in the state of sleep (or those that sleep merely allows to occur occasionally) to the chance stimulus capable of, or destined to, put an end to sleep. Intense light may penetrate the eyes, a noise may become audible, or an odoriferous substance may irritate the nasal mucosa. During sleep, we may expose parts of the body through involuntary movements—thereby subjecting them to a sensation of cold—or generate sensations of pressure and touch by shifting our position.

A fly might sting us, or a minor nocturnal mishap might assail several senses at once. Observers have collected a series of dreams in which the stimulus was identified upon waking, and a portion of the dream content corresponded closely enough to the stimulus for it to be recognised as the source of the dream.

I cite here a collection of such dreams—stemming from objective, more or less accidental, sensory stimulation—following Jessen (p. 527): Any indistinctly perceived noise evokes corresponding dream images; the rolling of thunder transports us into the midst of a battle; the crowing of a rooster can transform into a person’s scream of terror; and the creaking of a door can trigger dreams of burglaries. If we lose our bedcovers during the night, we might dream that we are walking about naked or have fallen into water. If we lie askew in bed with our feet protruding over the edge, we might dream that we are standing at the brink of a terrifying abyss or plunging from a steep height. If our head happens to slip beneath the pillow, a massive rock looms over us, on the verge of burying us under its weight. An accumulation of semen produces voluptuous dreams; localised pain gives rise to the notion of suffering abuse, hostile attacks, or physical injury…

“Meier (*Attempt at an Explanation of Sleepwalking*, Halle 1758, p. 33) once dreamt that he was set upon by several individuals who laid him flat on his back on the ground and drove a stake into the earth between his big toe and the next. As he imagined it in his dream, he awoke to find a straw wedged between his toes. According to Hennings (*On Dreams and Sleepwalkers*, Weimar 1784, p. 258), on another occasion—when he had pinned his shirt somewhat tightly around his neck—he dreamt that he was being hanged. Hoffbauer dreamt in his youth of falling from a high wall, and upon waking, noticed that the bed frame had come apart and that he had indeed fallen… Gregory reports that he once placed a hot-water bottle at his feet before going to bed and subsequently dreamt of a journey to the summit of Mount Etna, where he found the ground’s heat almost unbearable. Another person, after having a blister plaster applied to his head, dreamt that he was being scalped by a band of Native Americans; a third, sleeping in a damp shirt, believed he was being dragged through a river. A gout attack occurring during sleep led a patient to believe he was in the hands of the Inquisition and enduring the agonies of torture (Macnish).”

The argument based on the resemblance between a stimulus and the content of a dream can be further substantiated if one can induce dreams corresponding to a specific stimulus by deliberately applying sensory stimuli to a sleeping person. According to Macnish, Giron de Buzareingues had already conducted such experiments. “He left his knees uncovered and dreamed that he was travelling on a mail coach at night; he noted that travellers would be well aware of how cold one’s knees get in a carriage at night. On another occasion, he left the back of his head uncovered and dreamed that he was attending an open-air religious ceremony—for it was the custom in the country where he lived to keep one’s head covered at all times, except on occasions such as the one just mentioned.”

Maury shares new observations on dreams induced in himself. (A series of other attempts met with no success.)

1) His lips and the tip of his nose are tickled with a feather. – He dreams of a terrible torture; a pitch mask is placed on his face and then torn off, taking the skin with it.

2) Scissors are sharpened against a pair of tweezers. – He hears bells ringing, then the alarm bell, and is transported back to the June Days of 1848.

3) He is made to smell Eau de Cologne. – He is in Cairo, in the shop of Johann Maria Farina. This is followed by wild adventures that he cannot recall in detail.

4) He is lightly pinched on the back of the neck. – He dreams that a blister plaster is being applied to him and thinks of a doctor who treated him as a child.

5) A hot iron is brought close to his face. He dreams of the “Chauffeurs” (bands of robbers in the Vendée who employed this form of torture) who have sneaked into the house and are forcing the residents to hand over their money by thrusting their feet into a brazier. Then the Duchess of Abrantés appears; in the dream, he is her secretary.

8) A drop of water is poured onto his forehead. – He is in Italy, sweating profusely and drinking white Orvieto wine.

9) Candlelight is repeatedly shone on him through red paper. – He dreams of the weather and heat, and finds himself once again in a storm at sea—one he had actually experienced on the English Channel.

D’Hervey, Weygandt, and others made further attempts to experimentally induce dreams.

The “remarkable ability of the dream to weave sudden impressions from the sensory world into its fabric in such a way that they form a catastrophe—one for which the ground had already been gradually prepared—within that dream” has been noted by several observers (Hildebrandt). “In my younger years,” this author recounts, “I would sometimes use the familiar alarm clock—usually attached to a timepiece—to ensure I rose at a specific hour each morning. It happened to me fully a hundred times that the sound of this instrument fitted into a seemingly very long and coherent dream in such a way that the entire dream appeared to have been constructed solely for that moment, finding in it its true, logically indispensable climax—its natural, predestined conclusion.”

I will quote three of these waking dreams again for a different purpose.

Volkelt (p. 68) recounts: “A composer once dreamed that he was holding class and was about to explain something to his students. He had already finished and turned to one of the boys with the question: ‘Did you understand me?’ The boy shouted like a madman: ‘Oh yes.’ Annoyed by this, he told him to stop shouting. But then the whole class shouted: ‘Orja!’ To which they replied:

‘Eurjo!’” And finally: ‘Fire whoop!’ And now he awakens to real fire whoop shouts in the street.”

Garnier (Traité des facultés de l’âme, 1865), in Radestock, reports that Napoleon I was awakened by the explosion of the infernal machine from a dream he had while sleeping in his carriage, which allowed him to relive the crossing of the Tagliamento and the Austrian cannonade, until he awoke with the startled cry: “We are undermined!”

A dream experienced by Maury has become famous (*Le sommeil*, p. 161). He was ill and lying in bed in his room; his mother was sitting beside him. He dreamt of the Reign of Terror during the Revolution, witnessed gruesome scenes of murder, and was finally summoned before the tribunal himself. There he saw Robespierre, Marat, Fouquier-Tinville, and all the tragic heroes of that ghastly era—he answered for his actions, was sentenced after various incidents that left no imprint on his memory, and was then led to the place of execution, accompanied by a vast multitude. He climbed the scaffold; the executioner strapped him to the plank; it tipped over; the guillotine blade fell; he felt his head being severed from his body, woke up in sheer terror—and discovered that the bed’s headboard had fallen down and struck his cervical vertebrae, in a manner strikingly similar to the guillotine blade.

Linked to this dream is an interesting discussion—initiated by Le Lorrain and Egger in the *Revue philosophique*—about whether and how the dreamer can compress such an apparently vast wealth of dream content into the brief interval between the perception of the waking stimulus and the act of waking up.

Examples of this kind make objective sensory stimuli during sleep appear to be the most reliably established of all dream sources. Indeed, this is the only source that plays a role in the layperson’s understanding. If one asks an educated person—otherwise unfamiliar with the literature on dreams—how dreams originate, they will undoubtedly answer by citing a case known to them in which a dream was explained by an objective sensory stimulus recognised after waking. Scientific inquiry, however, cannot stop there; it finds grounds for further questions in the observation that the stimulus acting upon the senses during sleep does not appear in the dream in its actual form. Still, it is represented instead by another idea that bears some relationship to it. Yet the relationship connecting the dream stimulus and the resulting dream is, in Maury’s words, *une affinité quelconque, mais qui n’est pas unique et exclusive* [a certain affinity, though not a unique and exclusive one] (Analogies, p. 72). Consider, for instance, three of Hildebrandt’s “alarm-clock dreams”; one is then compelled to ask why the same stimulus produced such diverse dream outcomes, and why it gave rise to precisely these particular ones:

(p. 37) “So, I am out for a walk on a spring morning, strolling through the greening fields towards a neighbouring village; there, I see the inhabitants—dressed in their Sunday best, with hymnbooks tucked under their arms—making their way in large numbers to the church. Of course! It is Sunday, and the early service is about to begin. I decide to attend, but first—feeling somewhat overheated—I pause to cool off in the cemetery surrounding the church. While reading various epitaphs there, I hear the bell-ringer ascending the tower and spot the small village bell high up—the one that will signal the start of the service. It hangs motionless for quite a while, then begins to swing—and suddenly its strokes ring out, bright and piercing—so bright and piercing, in fact, that they put an end to my sleep. For the sound of the bell is actually coming from my alarm clock.”

“A second scenario. It is a bright winter day; the streets are piled high with snow. I have agreed to go on a sleigh ride, but must wait a long time for the announcement that the sleigh is waiting outside. Now come the preparations for boarding—the fur coat is put on, the footmuff brought out—and finally I am seated in my place.

Yet departure is delayed a moment longer, until the reins give the waiting horses the signal they can feel. Then they pull away; the vigorously shaken bells strike up their familiar Janissary music with such intensity that it instantly tears apart the gossamer web of the dream. Once again, it is nothing more than the shrill sound of the alarm clock.”

“One more example! I see a kitchen maid walking down the corridor toward the dining room, carrying several dozen stacked plates. The column of porcelain in her arms looks to me as if it is about to lose its balance. ‘Watch out,’ I warn, ‘the whole load is going to crash to the floor.’ Naturally, the inevitable objection follows—that she is used to this sort of thing, and so on—all the while I continue to watch the woman with anxious eyes. Sure enough, she stumbles at the threshold—the fragile crockery falls, clattering and crashing into a hundred shards across the floor. But—as I soon realise—the sound that continues endlessly is not actually a clatter, but a distinct ringing; and the person now waking up recognises that this ringing is simply the alarm clock doing its job.”

The question of why the mind misinterprets the nature of an objective sensory stimulus during a dream has been answered by Strümpell—and, to much the same effect, by Wundt—by stating that, when faced with such stimuli while asleep, the mind operates under conditions that give rise to illusions. We recognise and correctly interpret a sensory impression—that is, we assign it to the category of memories where, based on all prior experience, it belongs—provided the impression is sufficiently strong, distinct, and enduring, and we have the time necessary for this mental process. If these conditions are not met, we misinterpret the object that gives rise to the impression; we form an illusion based upon it.

“If someone is walking in an open field and perceives a distant object indistinctly, they might initially mistake it for a horse.” Upon closer inspection, the interpretation of a resting cow might suggest itself, and finally, the image might resolve with certainty into that of a group of seated people. The impressions the mind receives from external stimuli during sleep are similarly indeterminate in nature;

It forms illusions based on them, as the impression awakens a greater or lesser number of memory images, through which the impression acquires its psychological significance. Which of the many relevant spheres of memory yields the associated images, and which of the possible associative connections come into play,

remains—even according to Strümpell—impossible to determine and is left, as it were, to the caprice of the mind’s own workings.

We are faced with a choice here. We can admit that the underlying principles of dream formation cannot really be pursued any further, and thus forgo asking whether the interpretation of the illusion triggered by a sensory impression is subject to other conditions as well. Or we might be led to suspect that the objective sensory stimulus acting upon the sleeper plays only a modest role in the dream, and that other factors determine which memory images are evoked. Indeed, when one examines the experimentally induced dreams of Maury—which I have recounted in such detail for this very purpose—one is tempted to say that the experiment actually accounts for the origin of only one of the dream elements; the rest of the dream content appears far too autonomous and too specifically detailed to be explained by the single requirement that it must be compatible with the experimentally introduced element. One even begins to doubt the illusion theory and the power of the objective impression to shape the dream when one learns that this impression sometimes undergoes the most peculiar and far-fetched interpretation within the dream. For instance, M. Simon recounts a dream in which he saw gigantic figures at tables and distinctly heard the terrifying clatter produced by their jaws striking together as they chewed. Upon waking, he heard the sound of a horse galloping past his window. If the noise of the horse’s hooves did indeed evoke ideas from the realm of memories associated with *Gulliver’s Travels*—specifically the stay among the giants of Brobdingnag and the virtuous horse-creatures (an interpretation I would venture to offer without any explicit support from the author)—must not the selection of this particular set of memories—so unusual in relation to the stimulus—have been facilitated by other motives as well?

P.S. Thank you for reading, even though this post is a bit longer than usual! I’ll see if I can post again next week—heaven knows. Thanks again, and all the best to you. 🤗🙏💖

Carl Jung And Synchronicity…

Standard

Or in the Search for the Meaning of Coincidences. “Might we be living in our archetypal parallel world, simultaneously?”

Synchronicity Forest Nymph Goddess Psychedelic Canvas Poster by Emily Balivet

Today, I am pausing my series on Dr Freud’s works to share something from Dr Jung—specifically, on the intriguing topic of synchronicity. It is indeed a delicate subject, perhaps even a phenomenon, though it is very profound and insightful. While the topic may seem complex, everyone has likely experienced it at some point. I will do my best to explain it as simply as I can.

>>Sadly, “Synchronicity” is all too often tossed about describing events which do not adhere to the synchronistic events as used within Depth Psychology.<<

“How are we to recognise acausal combinations of events, since it is obviously impossible to examine all chance happenings for their causality? The answer to this is that acausal events may be expected most readily where, on closer reflection, a causal connection appears to be inconceivable. It is impossible, with our present resources, to explain ESP [extrasensory perception], or the fact of meaningful coincidence, as a phenomenon of energy. This makes an end to the causal explanation as well, for “effect” cannot be understood as anything other than a phenomenon of energy. Therefore, it cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity. Because of this quality of simultaneity, I have picked on the term “synchronicity” to designate a hypothetical factor equal in rank to causality as a principle of explanation.
~Carl Jung, Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle, 1960, extracted from CW 8.”

Synchronicity: A phenomenon where an event in the outside world coincides meaningfully with a psychological state of mind.

“Synchronicity . . . consists of two factors: a) An unconscious image comes into consciousness either directly (i.e., literally) or indirectly (symbolised or suggested) in the form of a dream, idea, or premonition. b) An objective situation coincides with this content. The one is as puzzling as the other. ~ “Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle,” ibid., par. 858.“

Sometimes, life’s events feel more than mere chance; they are difficult to explain and hold significance only for those experiencing them. These coincidences are often overlooked, dismissed as oddities. Carl Jung coined the term ‘Synchronicity’ to describe events that occur without causal links but seem connected through our thoughts and feelings. Drawing inspiration from Chinese texts like the I Ching, Jung sought to explain such phenomena scientifically, bridging inner experiences and external reality. For instance, selecting a TV show and then encountering a character with similar struggles illustrates synchronicity. In Eastern cultures, such moments are seen as divine messages; in Western societies, they tend to be viewed sceptically, regarded as simple coincidences.

In his book ‘Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle’, Jung emphasises that he does not dismiss chance, suggesting that the improbable could just be unlikely events without any intent or significance. However, when coincidences accumulate, it becomes tempting to believe that a different explanation might be at play. As Jung states,

“What I found were ‘ coincidences’ connected so meaningfully that their ‘chance’ concurrence would represent a degree of improbability that would have to be expressed by an astronomical figure.”
~Carl Jung, Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle, Page 21.

Carl Jung Depth Psychology

Jung recounts the case of a young woman who was ‘psychologically inaccessible’—so rational and logical that she couldn’t express her emotions, having sealed herself off with her intellect and appearing cold and distant. She recounted a dream of receiving a golden scarab beetle, and as she spoke, Jung heard a tapping at the window. He opened it and caught a large flying insect, which proved to be a greenish-golden scarab beetle similar to the one in her dream. He then handed it to her and said, “Here is your scarab.”

Jung describes this synchronistic event as having ‘punctured the desired hole’ in her rational mindset, breaking her resistance and allowing him to work successfully with her. Her firm beliefs about reality made her resistant to influence unless confronted with an extraordinary paranormal occurrence. This incident dismantled her mental defence, leading to a sudden change in attitude and psychic renewal. Although her transformation likely began earlier, this event marked the breakthrough. Her dream featuring the scarab symbolised rebirth and transformation—central themes in Egyptian mythology. Jung observed that dream symbols are often connected to psychic events, and understanding these ‘symbolic parallels’ involves exploring the collective unconscious.

Synchronicity extends beyond assigning subjective meaning to unlikely events; it suggests these events hold inherent significance, indicating a link between the physical and psychic domains. Rooted in metaphysics, it points to a deeper, unseen order in the universe. Synchronicity involves engaging with the spiritual and the mysterious, challenging the scientific worldview, and offering an alternative to rational religion. While modern views regard such events as mere coincidences, traditional cultures interpret them as acts of spirits—gods transforming or mediators connecting us to unseen worlds. Spirits communicate through symbols and archetypes from the collective unconscious, with dreams considered messages from gods guiding us during sleep. Western culture, however, often dismisses wonder as superstition, prioritising logic and reason.

Jung advises us to avoid superstition by not interpreting chance events as acts of the gods. Instead, we should see coincidences as insights into ourselves and our surroundings. Synchronicities lead us inward, uncovering hidden aspects or opportunities that foster growth. By being attentive, we can use these signs to guide our lives positively rather than passively letting events shape us. The key question is not what causes a coincidence, but what message it offers. For example, dreaming of an old friend and then encountering them might suggest reconnecting or learning from their qualities. These symbols point to neglected or undeveloped parts of ourselves. Recognising that events serve a purpose helps us understand their connection to our lives, how they support us, and what they teach.

In this video, Marie-Louise von Franz explores Jung’s concept of synchronicity, describing acausal order and meaningful coincidences, illustrated by examples such as mistaken dress after death, telepathic dreams, and birth. She cautions against primitive magical thinking, draws on physics analogies such as singularities, and emphasises human freedom within archetypal patterns.

The second part features Jung’s 1960 letter on the psychic connection known as synchronicity, which involves archetypes, emotions, and unconscious processes in paranormal experiences such as telepathy, precognition, and psychokinesis. He reflects on scientific challenges and on links to human instinct, myth, and spirituality.
This letter is from C.G. Jung Letters, Volume 2 (1951-1961). Jung’s voice is created.

Heartfelt thanks for stopping by. Take care, everyone! 🙏💖

There is always a Beginning to Grasp the Whole! P 2

Standard
Pang Torsuwan. The Play. 2021

Let’s move on to the next section, which examines the link between dreams and wakefulness. Dr Freud’s effort to study the history of dreams is noteworthy, and naturally, Dr Jung held Freud’s contributions in high regard.

In Carl Jung, CW 5, Para 1, we read:
Anyone who can read Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams without being outraged by the novelty and seemingly unjustified boldness of his procedure, and without waxing morally indignant over the stark nakedness of his dream-interpretations, but can let this extraordinary book work upon his imagination calmly and without prejudice, will not fail to be deeply impressed at that point where Freud reminds us that an individual conflict, which he calls the incest fantasy, lies at the root of that monumental drama of the ancient world, the Oedipus legend.
The impression made by this simple remark may be likened to the uncanny feeling which would steal over us if, amid the noise and bustle of a modern city street, we were suddenly to come upon an ancient relic—perhaps upon the Corinthian capital of a long-since walled-up column, or upon the fragment of an inscription. And yet, but a moment before, we were utterly immersed in the hectic, fleeting life of the present; in the very next moment, however, something profoundly distant and alien flashes before us, directing our gaze toward a different order of things. We turn away from the vast confusion of the present to glimpse the higher continuity of history.

(My thanks go to Lewis Lafontaine.)

Freud and Jung in the USA, 1909. US psychologist G. Stanley Hall (1846-1924, lower centre) was the president of Clark University, Worcester, Massachusetts, USA. Hall had invited Austrian psychologist Sigmund Freud (1856-1939, lower left) and Swiss psychologist Carl Jung (1875-1961, lower right) to give lectures at a 20th anniversary celebration in September 1909. Freud, on his only visit to the USA, gave five lectures on psychoanalysis. He and Jung, both then relatively unknown, were also awarded honorary degrees. Behind them are those who helped promote Freud’s theories (left to right): Austrian psychiatrist Abraham Brill, British psychoanalyst Ernest Jones and Hungarian psychoanalyst Sandor Ferenczi. Freud and Jung were key figures in the development of two major schools of psychology (Freudian and Jungian).
Credit: LIBRARY OF CONGRESS / SCIENCE PHOTO LIBRARY

I’ll begin with a few sentences from the earlier post; may the thread make it easier to get to the topic. Of course, you can find the previous post here.

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


…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”; 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.”
The ancients thought no differently about the dependence of dream content on life. I quote from Radestock (p. 139): When Xerxes, before he campaigned against Greece, was distracted from his decision by good advice but repeatedly spurred on by dreams, the ancient, rational Persian dream interpreter, Artabanus, aptly remarked to him that dream images usually contained what a person already thinks while awake.

In Lucretius’ didactic poem, De rerum natura, we find (IV, v. 959) the following passage:

»Et quo quisque fere studio devinctus adhaeret,
aut quibus in rebus multum sumus ante morati
atque in ea ratione fuit contenta magis mens,
in somnis eadem plerumque videmur obire;
causidici causas agere et componere leges,
induperatores pugnare ac proelia obire, … etc. etc. « “And to which almost everyone adheres, bound by their passion,
or to which things we have previously spent a lot
and in which the mind was more content,
We often seem to do the same in dreams;
lawyers argue cases and draft laws,
induperators fight and fight battles, … etc., etc.”

Cicero (De Divinatione II) says very similarly, as does Maury much later: »Maximeque reliquiae earum rerum moventur in animis et agitantur, de quibus vigilantes aut cogitavimus aut egimus.« “The greatest relics of those things move in the minds and are agitated, of which we have either thought or acted vigilantly.”

The contradiction between these two views regarding the relationship between dream-life and waking-life appears, indeed, irresolvable. It is therefore fitting to recall the account given by F. W. Hildebrandt (1875), who suggests that the distinctive characteristics of the dream cannot, in fact, be described in any other way than through a “series of contrasts which seemingly culminate in contradictions” (p. 8). “The first of these contrasts is constituted, on the one hand, by the strict detachment—or self-contained isolation—of the dream from real and true life, and on the other, by the constant encroachment of the one upon the other, the constant dependence of the one upon the other. — The dream is something entirely distinct from the reality experienced while awake—one might say a mode of existence hermetically sealed within itself, separated from real life by an unbridgeable chasm. It detaches us from reality, extinguishes within us all normal memory of it, and transports us into a different world and into an entirely different life-story—one which, fundamentally, has nothing whatsoever to do with our actual life…” Hildebrandt then elaborates on how, with the onset of sleep, our entire being—along with all its modes of existence—vanishes “as if behind an invisible trapdoor.” One might, for instance, undertake a sea voyage in a dream to St. Helena, there to offer the imprisoned Napoleon some exquisite Moselle wine. One is received by the ex-emperor with the utmost graciousness and almost regrets seeing this fascinating illusion shattered by the act of waking. Yet now, one compares this dream-situation with reality. One has never been a wine merchant, nor has one ever harboured the desire to become one. One has never undertaken a sea voyage—and St. Helena would be the very last place one would choose as a destination for such a journey. As for Napoleon, one harbours absolutely no sympathetic sentiments toward him, but rather a fierce, patriotic hatred. And to top it all off, the dreamer was not yet even among the living when Napoleon died on the island; establishing a personal connection with him lay entirely outside the realm of possibility. Thus, the dream experience appears as something alien, interpolated between two phases of life that fit together perfectly and seamlessly flow into one another.

“And yet,” Hildebrandt continues, “the apparent opposite is just as true and correct. I mean to say that, alongside this self-containment and seclusion, the most intimate relationship and connection go hand in hand. We may go so far as to say: Whatever the dream may offer, it draws its material from reality and from the mental life that unfolds within that reality. … No matter how strangely it may play with this material, it can, in truth, never truly break free from the real world; and its most sublime creations, no less than its most grotesque, must always borrow their raw substance from that which has either appeared before our eyes in the world of the senses, or has somehow already found a place in the train of our waking thoughts—in other words, from that which we have already experienced, whether outwardly or inwardly.”

Next time, we’ll explore memory in dreams. Take care! 🙏💖

Observing the Depths from Below!

Standard

I am a forest, and a night of dark trees: but he who is not afraid of my darkness will find banks full of roses beneath my cypresses. The higher we soar, the smaller we appear to those who cannot fly.
~Friedrich Nietzsche, Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Understanding duality and the existence of opposites is essential for comprehending both our world and ourselves. Today, I often see the phrase ‘We are good & They are bad’ being misused and exploited. Good and evil are present within everyone!

Duality promotes understanding of the balance and tension between opposing elements, showing that complexity and harmony come from these interactions. Jung extensively studied duality, viewing it not just as external contrasts like light versus dark, cold versus warm, or above versus below, but as essential components of the human psyche and the process of individuation.

Jung says: Roots of Life reach into Hell. A core idea in Jung’s view of human existence is the concept of Duality and the Principle of Opposites. He argued that the psyche operates under the “principle of opposites,” meaning that every psychological concept or experience—such as light, warmth, consciousness, or life—inevitably has its opposite, like darkness, cold, unconsciousness, or death. The ongoing tension between these opposing forces is vital for psychological development and transformation. Dualities are not always entirely opposite; instead, they often depend on each other and define one another. For instance, light derives meaning only through its contrast with darkness. Many philosophies, including Taoism, highlight that these opposites are interconnected and mutually dependent, creating a balanced whole (yin and yang).

Jung’s psychology focuses on a fundamental duality between the conscious mind—associated with light, warmth, and awareness—and the unconscious, linked to darkness, coldness, and forgotten elements. The unconscious includes repressed or unknown parts, with the ‘shadow’ representing darker aspects we often reject or ignore. Recognising and accepting the shadow is crucial for achieving psychological wholeness.
The process of individuation involves integrating these opposites, acknowledging and reconciling them, rather than suppressing one side.
Jung explored myths, dreams, and alchemy, which frequently symbolised these dualities—such as sun/moon, king/queen, above/below—as part of psychic development. He saw alchemy as a metaphor for merging the conscious and unconscious components of the psyche.

Jung’s idea of duality illustrates how opposites are essential and creative elements of the mind. Concepts like light and dark, cold and warm, or the branches of a tree reaching upward and downward symbolise both external facts and internal truths. Personal development requires embracing these dualities to achieve a more integrated and authentic self.

An 1847 depiction of the Norse Yggdrasil as described in the Icelandic Prose Edda by Oluf Olufsen Bagge. Via Carl Jung Depth Psychology

He perceives the tree of life, whose roots extend into Hell and whose top reaches Heaven. He no longer distinguishes between right and wrong, holy and unholy, genuine and false, or good and evil. The only difference he recognises is between below and above: he sees that the tree of life grows from the ground upward, with its crown at the top, clearly separate from the roots. This view is unquestionable to him, and it guides his path to salvation.
To unlearn all distinctions except that of direction is part of your salvation. This liberates you from the old curse of knowing good and evil. Although you separated good from evil based on your best judgment, aiming only for the good and denying the evil you did- and struggled to accept it- your roots no longer drew dark nourishment from below, causing your tree to weaken and wither.
Therefore, the ancients said that after Adam ate the apple, the tree of paradise withered. Your life needs the dark. But knowing it is evil makes acceptance impossible, leading to suffering and confusion. You cannot accept it as evil, or your sense of goodness will reject you. Nor can you deny it, because you
know both good and evil. This knowledge of good and evil became an insurmountable curse.

But if you return to primal chaos and recognise that which hangs stretched between the two unbearable poles of fire, you will notice that you can no longer conclusively separate good and evil, neither through feeling nor through knowledge, but that you can discern the direction of growth only from below to above. You thus forget the distinction between good and evil, and you no longer know it as long as your tree grows from below to above. But as soon as growth stops, what was united in growth falls apart, and once more you recognise good and evil.
You can never deny your knowledge of good and evil to yourself, so that you could betray your good in order to live evil. For as soon as you separate good and evil, you recognise them. They are united only in growth. But you grow if you stand still in the greatest doubt, and therefore, steadfastness in great doubt is a veritable flower of life.
He who cannot bear doubt does not bear himself. Such a one is doubtful; he does not grow, and hence he does not live. Doubt is the sign of both the strongest and the weakest. The strong have doubt, but doubt has the weak.

Therefore, the weakest is close to the strongest, and if he can say to his doubt: “I have you,” then he is the strongest. But no one can say yes to their doubt unless they endure wide-open chaos. Because there are so many among us who can talk about anything, pay heed to what they live. What someone says can be very much or very little. Thus, examine his life.

My speech is neither light nor dark, since it is the speech of someone who is growing. ~Carl Jung, Red Book, Page 301

Thank you for taking the time to read. 🙏

Everything is Relative; Even Happiness!

Standard

Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That’s relativity.
~Albert Einstein

I was always sceptical about the concepts of time and space. As I explored Einstein’s theory of relativity, I realised that it encompasses not just time and space, but everything else as well, including happiness.

Indeed, it pertains to an individual’s life circumstances or, more precisely, it is linked to them. For example, someone living a stress-free and trouble-free life may experience a lack of happiness, but when faced with tough times, they may find happiness more readily.

My life has been filled with challenges, but this year has been especially tough. As you know, I had issues with my lower abdomen and underwent three surgeries to fix it, or so I thought. However, a problem arose when I went to the toilet, which caused concern, and I visited my doctor. After the examination, he stated that an apparent mistake had occurred during the last operation, a part had been injured, and I would require another procedure. I won’t go into the details, but after some anxious days, I’ve managed to secure a scheduled appointment for next Wednesday, as the procedure needs to be done soon to prevent kidney issues.

I gathered some insights and words from my teacher, Carl Jung, who held that the psyche and cosmos are fundamentally timeless. Working with Einstein and Pauli, he examined a concept of timelessness that goes beyond linear clock time. Jung proposed that accurate understanding involves transcending causality because time in the psyche and reality is relative. Although our conscious mind perceives time linearly, embracing a sense of timelessness can enhance learning. His goal was to unify physical and psychic realities and how they interact.

He believed in a psychological “relativity of time,” where perception is subjective and affected by inner states. He connected this to synchronicity, implying that the psyche and material world are not always ruled by linear cause-and-effect but can relate in other ways. Jung pointed out that, similar to the space-time continuum in modern physics, the unconscious also exhibits “indistinctness” or psychic relativity, which blurs the boundaries between time and space.

For Jung: “[Synchronicity] cannot be a question of cause and effect, but of a falling together in time, a kind of simultaneity. Because of this quality of simultaneity, I have chosen the term ‘synchronicity’ to designate a hypothetical factor equal in rank to causality as a principle of explanation.”
Jung, C. G. (1952). The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche; Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle, in CW, Vol. 8.

Now, what about happiness? I tell you this: when I go to the toilet and manage to pee, I feel the entire joy of life again and find happiness!

Humour plays a vital role, and hope remained until the very end. In my seventy years, I have enjoyed good health and no surgeries, but this year I face my fourth operation. Here’s to a brighter year ahead. Wishing you all health and prosperity.

The Mystery Of “Mana Personality” Part Nine

Standard

Translated from volumes published by Lorenz Jung based on the edition “Gesammelte Werke” dtv.de The Symbols of Transformation (1952) and Aion (1950)

Today, I share the final part of the translation of Mana-Personality. It was full of joy for me to learn more and even better from his works because I had to read them word by word to achieve an understandable translation. I hope it was the same for you.

We often wonder why there are so many injustices, differences, and failures in human progress (decline?). Is God flawed? Dr. Jung suggests that God must be imperfect; otherwise, we cannot reach Him.

In the figure of the divine hero, God himself wrestles with his own imperfect, suffering, living creation; he even takes its suffering condition upon himself and, by this sacrificial act, accomplishes the opus magnum of salvation and victory over death.

Credit Text and Image Carl Jung Depth Psychology 🙏

He, instead, talks about the importance of the Self and Individuality.

He personally also admits that his explanation is sensitive to experiences that some may not have practised. He emphasizes:

I am deeply aware that in this work, I have not made any ordinary demands on the understanding of my reader. I have made every effort to smooth the path to understanding. Still, I have not been able to remove one great difficulty, namely the fact that the experiences underlying my explanations are probably unknown to most people and, therefore, strange...

Still, he tries to enlighten us on the matter based on his experiences.

Image credit Carl Jung Depth Psychology

Previous

Now, let’s move on to the final chords:

Individuation
The Mana Personality (P9)

The conception of God as an autonomous, psychological content makes God a moral problem – and that is, admittedly, very uncomfortable. But if this problem does not exist, then God is not real either because he does not intervene in our lives anywhere. Then, he is a historical conceptual bogeyman or a philosophical sentimentality.

If we leave the idea of ​​a “divine” out of the equation and speak only of autonomous contents, we may remain intellectually and empirically correct, but we thereby conceal a note that psychologically cannot be missed. If we use the idea of ​​a “divine”, we are thereby aptly expressing the peculiar way in which we experience the effects of autonomous content. We can also use the term “demonic” as long as we do not imply that we have reserved a concrete God somewhere who completely corresponds to our wishes and ideas. However, our intellectual sleight of hand tricks do not help us to create a being according to our wishes in reality, just as the world does not adapt to our expectations. If we, therefore, attribute the effects of autonomous contents with the attribute “divine”, we thereby acknowledge their relative superiority. And this superior is the power that has forced a man of all ages to think of the most unthinkable things and to inflict the greatest suffering on himself in order to do justice to those effects. This power is as real as hunger and fear of death.

The Self could be characterized as a kind of compensation for the conflict between inside and outside. This formulation may not be a lousy fit insofar as the Self has the character of something that is a result, an achieved goal, something that has only gradually come about and has become possible through much effort. Thus, the Self is also the goal of life, for it is the complete expression of the combination of destinies that we call the individual, and not just of the individual human being, but of a whole group in which one completes the other to form the complete picture.

With the sensation of the Self as something irrational, indefinable, to which the ego is not opposed and not subject, but rather attached and around which it rotates, as the earth rotates around the sun, the goal of individuation is achieved. I use the word “sensation” to describe the perceptual character of the relationship between “I” and Self. There is nothing recognizable in this respect because we are unable to say anything about the contents of the Self. The “I” is the only content of the Self that we know. The individualized “I” perceives itself as the object of an unknown and superior subject. It seems to me that the psychological statement reaches its extreme end here because the idea of ​​a Self is in and of itself a transcendent postulate that can be justified psychologically but cannot be proven scientifically. The step beyond science is an absolute requirement of the psychological development described here because, without this postulate, I could not adequately formulate the empirically occurring psychological processes. The Self, therefore, claims at least the value of a hypothesis corresponding to that of the atomic structure. And – should we still be enclosed in an image here – then it is something overwhelmingly alive, the interpretation of which is beyond my capabilities. I do not doubt that it is an image, but one in which we are still contained.

Youri Ivanov _ DIGITAL GRAPHIC ART _ SD World 141

I am deeply aware that in this work, I have not made any ordinary demands on the understanding of my reader. I have made every effort to smooth the path to understanding. Still, I have not been able to remove one great difficulty, namely the fact that the experiences underlying my explanations are probably unknown to most people and, therefore, strange. As a result, I cannot expect my readers to follow all of my conclusions. Although every author naturally enjoys understanding their audience, interpreting my observations is less important to me than pointing out a broad area of ​​experience that has hardly been explored, which I would like to make accessible to many through this book. In this area, which has been so obscure up to now, it seems to me that the answers are recumbent to many puzzles that the psychology of consciousness has never even come close to solving. I do not wish to claim under any circumstances to have formulated these answers definitively. I am, therefore, quite content if my paper can be regarded as a tentative attempt at an answer.

I sincerely appreciate your support and interest. Thank you!🤗🙏💖

The title image: Maiden Voyage of the Airship Falcon” by Alexei Gurl

The Future is Feminine!

Standard
Museum of Fine Arts, Boston
‘Satan Watching the Caresses of Adam and Eve’; watercolour by William Blake for John Milton’s Paradise Lost, 1808

During one of my workdays, I had a guest in my car – an intelligent woman who left a lasting impression on me with her profound awareness. We delved into a conversation about various topics such as God, the world, and eventually, my birthland, Iran. I shared my views on equality between men and women. Then I dared to discuss Femininity, Anima, Animus, and Dr Jung’s idea of their existence, which are present in every human. She listened attentively, found my words intriguing, and even agreed somewhat. However, she expressed her preference for being a “pure woman” and did not desire to have any masculine traits in herself!

I believe the current wave of feminism is a form of emancipation fueled by frustration toward men. This frustration stems from the fact that men have dominated the world’s history. However, I wanted to discuss this further to convince her to understand my perspective.
Unfortunately, we arrived at her destination before we finished, and she got out of the car and left.

I have gathered here some words and quotes on femininity, body and soul, which I believe has very little to do with gender (as Marion Woodman says so well), and we might need a vested development to comprehend it.

The Body and The Soul

The Garden of Love – William Blake
I went to the Garden of Love and saw what I had never seen: A Chapel was built in the midst, Where I used to play on the green. And the gates of this Chapel were shut, and “Thou shalt not” writ over the door; So I turned to the Garden of Love that so many sweet flowers bore; and I saw it was filled with graves, and tomb-stones where flowers should be; and Priests in black gowns were walking their rounds, And binding with briars my joys & desires.
“Do what you will; this world’s a fiction and is made up of contradiction.” William Blake (UK 1757-1827) Infant Joy – Infant Sorrow – by William Blake

Ascension by William Blake

William and Marion

“William Blake says the body is ‘that portion of soul discerned by the five senses’ I live with that idea. I sit and look out my window here in Canada, and the autumn trees are golden against the blue sky. I can feel their “food” coming into my eyes and going down, down, down, interacting inside, and I fill up with gold. My soul is fed. I see, I smell, I taste, I hear, I touch. Through the orifices of my body, I give, and I receive. I am not trying to capture what is absent. It’s that interchange between the embodied soul and the outside world that is the dynamic process. That’s how growth takes place. That is life.”

~Marion Woodman, Conscious Femininity, P. 44-45

The Worship of the Serpent: The Awakening of Eve and the Generation of Nature The Symbol of the Serpent

Award-winning author Teri Degler quoted:

“….embodying the divine feminine is critically important for our times. (Teri Degler: The Divine Feminine Fire)

Teri Degler

It shows you how to accomplish this by getting to know your body, bringing your body and your dreams together, and uniting body and soul. Marion Woodman, author of Dancing in the Flames

This issue might have a long way to go, and as I am involved in something more primitive like the situation in Iran, I can see those women who are beyond all boundaries and fighting for their rights; I discern light at the end of the tunnel! Thank you all for your interest. Have a lovely weekend, everybody.🙏💖🥰