Becoming Whole A Jungian Guide To Individuation

BECOMING WHOLE
Also by Bud Harris, Ph.D.
Radical Hope and the Healing Power of Illness: A Jungian Guide to Exploring the Body, Mind,
Spirit Connection to Healing
Aging Strong: Living It Forward and Giving It Back
The Search for Self and the Search for God
Cracking Open: A Memoir of Struggling, Passages, and Transformations
Sacred Selfishness: A Guide to Living a Life of Substance
The Father Quest: Rediscovering an Elemental Force
Resurrecting the Unicorn: Masculinity in the 21st Century
The Fire and the Rose: The Wedding of Spirituality and Sexuality
Knowing the Questions Living the Answers: A Jungian Guide Through the Paradoxes of Peace,
Conflict and Love that Mark a Lifetime
Coauthored with Massimilla Harris, Ph.D.:
Into the Heart of the Feminine: Facing the Death Mother Archetype to Reclaim Love, Strength, and
Vitality
Like Gold Through Fire: Understanding the Transforming Power of Suffering
The Art of Love: The Craft of Relationships: A Practical Guide for Creating the Loving
Relationships We Want
BECOMING WHOLE
A Jungian Guide to Individuation
DR. BUD HARRIS, PH.D.
DAPHNE PUBLICATIONS • ASHEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

BECOMING WHOLE:
A JUNGIAN GUIDE TO INDIVIDUATION
COPYRIGHT © 2016 BY BUD HARRIS
Copyright© 2016
Becoming whole: a Jungian guide to individuation by Bud Harris.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Daphne Publications, 6 Cambridge
Road, Asheville, North Carolina 28804
DAPHNE PUBLICATIONS, AN IMPRINT OF SPES, INC.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016911457

Spes, Inc, Asheville, NC
Harris, Clifton T. Bud

Becoming whole: a Jungian guide to individuation/
ISBN 978-0-692-75428-3 Non-fiction
1. Personal Growth 2. Body, Mind and Spirit 3. Jungian Psychology 4. Spirituality
Interior Layout by Susan Yost

Author’s Note:
This book comprises the text of two lectures and the seminars that
accompanied them. I have presented these workshops and seminars in
Asheville, North Carolina and in many other cities in the United States over
the last ten years. The book includes the questions I asked to spark the
audience’s reflections and participation. I have also included the exercises
from the seminars as well with the hope that you will find them stimulating
and useful. As much as possible, I have maintained the original text of each
lecture as it was delivered. I believe this makes the lectures more personal
and easier to read and doesn’t run the risk of changing any of my implied or
intended meaning.
Bud Harris, Ph.D.

Asheville, North Carolina
Contents
Introduction
PART ONE
Individuation: The Promise in Jung’s Legacy and Why Our Culture
Has Trouble Accepting It
Chapter 1 : Lecture
Chapter 2 : Seminar
PART TWO
A Lifetime of Promise: A Jungian Guide to Discovering the
Transformative Power in Complexes
Chapter 3 : Lecture
Chapter 4 : Seminar
Resources
Introduction
“As the dream opened with the force of something coming from
the distant past, I found myself sitting in the front of a Shoney’s
Big Boy restaurant. The booth I was in was next to the large front
window. While I sipped on my morning coffee, I looked out onto
the main street of the town I grew up in. Across the street and the
railroad tracks, was the white Presbyterian church my mother
had taken me to when I was small and where her funeral service
had taken place. Farther down the street were the high school,
the bank and the shopping district. The fact that Shoney’s still
included the words ‘Big Boy’ in its name placed the setting back
in history. As I turned my head and looked across the table from
me, I saw a small boy with ruffled brown hair and intense blue-
grey eyes. Shocked, I realized that he was a five-year-old version
of myself, before tragedy had struck our family. I looked into his
eyes and he quietly said, ‘What have you done with my life?’”
T hese lectures and seminars are part of the answer to that little boy’s
question. They represent a portion of the path of living and working
that I have been following for over four decades. My title: Becoming
Whole: A Jungian Guide to Individuation reveals the common thread
running throughout these lectures and seminars. Professionally, the process
of becoming whole is called individuation. Personally, I call it the search
for Self and the search for God (or the search for whatever you might like to
call the Transcendent). However you designate it, individuation is a path of
awakening, transforming, becoming conscious and fully engaged in living,
being authentically alive and fulfilling the unique pattern within ourselves.
Part 1 of this book “Individuation: The Promise in Jung’s Legacy and
Why Our Culture Has Trouble Accepting It” includes the C. G. Jung
Memorial Lecture, sponsored by the Jung Society of Washington, D.C. that
I was invited to give at the Swiss Embassy on the fiftieth anniversary of
Jung’s death. I believe that the continuing attraction to Jungian psychology
rests on Jung’s focus on the healthy personality. It also rests on the
paradoxes included in the Jungian perspective. We will explore these
paradoxes as we look into Jung’s ideas that our suffering and struggles
become meaningful parts of our lives when understood and that life’s
hardships can initiate us into a more profound sense of being and
satisfaction. Individuation, the centerpiece of Jung’s legacy, is a path that
shows us how self-knowledge not only helps us navigate the most difficult
encounters with ourselves and life but also becomes the creative force
behind expanding our psychic structure and attaining a fulfilled life.
In chapter 1, we will focus on the components of Jung’s work that
make up the spirit of individuation, which teaches us to see some of our
most frustrating characteristics as a source of new life. We will learn how to
strengthen our personalities for this work and revitalize the feminine in our
own natures and lives. This process frees us from our history and inner
conflicts and helps us to live in partnership with the Self and the Divine
Energy within us and, ultimately, to make a true contribution to life. In
chapter 2, we will invite this process into our lives and explore some of the
reasons we have trouble accepting it by examining the following topics: (1)
The Quest for Consciousness and Living a Life with Soul, (2) The Path of
Individuation and Transformation as the Descent into Life, (3) The Jungian
Process: Story, Dreams, Healing and Individuation, (4) Creative
Transformation: Love and Wholeness.
In part 2, “A Lifetime of Promise: A Jungian Guide to Discovering the
Transformative Power in Complexes,” we will discover why the continuing
attraction to Jungian psychology rests on Jung’s focus on the healthy
personality. Suffering and struggle don’t have to be pathological. They
become meaningful parts of life that, when understood, initiate us into a
more profound sense of being and satisfaction. In chapter 3, we will
examine why complexes, a central focus in Jung’s work, are not signs of
pathology unless we insist on repressing them, thus turning them into
enemies, or we cannot or have not developed the ego strength to face them.
Jung thought that his work with complexes was so important that he
almost named his work “Complex Psychology” instead of Analytical
Psychology. Jung viewed complexes as both the energy fields and the
building blocks of our psychic structures. Chapter 3 will also help us
understand how to realize and integrate complexes so they can become the
architecture of a fulfilled life. We will see how, like the stone the builders
rejected, our most devilish and frustrating complexes hold the greatest
promise for expanding our personalities and our lives. We will also review
how when they are repressed and battled against, complexes drain our
energy like a chronic disease, souring our relationships with ourselves and
everyone around us.
Learning how to face these challenges and unleash their
transformative powers renews our energy, reconnects us to its source and
enables our transformed complex to become the cornerstone in a more
creative life. This chapter will show us how we can strengthen our
personality for this work and explore the seven steps in transforming a
complex from life-draining to life-empowering. As this process continues,
we will also look into how it frees us from our history and inner conflicts
and helps us live in partnership with our Self and the Divine within us.
Chapter 4 describes some of the major complexes that influence our
lives, personally and culturally. We will also examine how the Self and
individuation are trying to work through these complexes. In this chapter, I
use stories, dreams and fairytales to help us understand the options of
growth or regression, of transformation or destruction, that complexes
present to us. In addition, we will carefully look at how we can become
aware of our central complexes.
The material that I deal with in these lectures has grown from the
experiences of my life—experiences that I am very thankful for. Of course
developing this material has transformed me in more ways than I can
explain. I believe that all of our efforts to examine who we are and where
we are going in order to heal ourselves and our culture are sacred activities.
I hope that you will join me in this work with that same spirit. I must also
add that presenting this material and interacting with audiences around the
country also transformed me and left me deeply moved by the potentials in
the human spirit.
PART ONE
INDIVIDUATION:
The Promise in Jung’s Legacy and Why Our Culture
“The meaning of ‘whole’ or ‘wholeness’ is to make holy or to heal. The descent into the depths will
bring healing. It is the way to the total being, to the treasure which suffering mankind is forever
seeking, which is hidden in the place guarded by terrible danger.”
– C. G. JUNG, C. W. VOL. 18, PARA. 270

Chapter 1 : Lecture
INDIVIDUATION:
The C. G. Jung Memorial Lecture, sponsored by the Jung Society of Washington, D.C. Presented at
the Embassy of Switzerland, June 3, 2011, by Jungian Analyst, Dr. Bud Harris. ©
W hen I began my reflections in preparation for this lecture I

remembered a very poignant letter that Dr. Jung wrote to an
English friend late in his life. In this letter Dr. Jung said: “I have failed in
my foremost task to open people’s eyes to the fact that man has a soul, that
there is a buried treasure in the field and that our religion and philosophy
are in a lamentable state.”
As I thought about this letter and my devotion to over four decades of
the Jungian process, several very personal memories that had been long
buried by the years and my intense inner work slowly came to the surface—
brought up by this topic and the blank sheet of paper in front of me. I
remembered a time when I was in my early forties and was beginning one
of my so-called crises. During this time I had the following dream.
As the dream opened, with the force of something coming from the
distant past, I found myself sitting in the front of a Shoney’s Big Boy
restaurant. The booth I was in was next to the large front windows. While I
sipped my morning coffee, I looked out onto the main street of the town I
grew up in. Across the street and the railroad tracks was the white
Presbyterian Church my mother had taken me to when I was small and
where her funeral service had taken place. Further down the street was the
high school, the bank, and the shopping district. And, the fact that Shoney’s
still included the words “Big Boy” in its name placed us back in history.
As I turned my head and looked across the table from me, I saw a
small boy with ruffled brown hair and intense blue-grey eyes. Shocked, I
realized that he was a five-year-old version of myself before tragedy had
struck our family. When I looked into his eyes he quietly said, “What have
you done with my life?”
Before I could answer, I awakened from the dream. As I was musing
over the dream, I knew that he hadn’t been talking about the surface stuff
like going to the office, shopping, dieting, or even making a living for my
family. Those sensitive eyes were searching for a more serious answer. That
small boy was posing the question to me that life asks of us all. And, that
question is not “What is the meaning of my life?” It is “What meaning am I
creating with my life?”
The search for the answer to that question has brought me here today.
My answer to it is to try to be fully engaged in life, so that I can develop a
greater awareness of my reality and the truth of my existence, so that my
life will have an evolving purpose, values and a way of being fulfilled. And,
I am seeking to be in touch with life’s spiritual aspects and the spiritual
depths within myself, so that I can be sure that love is the foundation of
how I live.
Now, if I have aroused your curiosity enough to get you to ask me
how I am pursuing this complicated-sounding task, I would answer by
telling you that I am doing my level-best to live C. G. Jung’s individuation
process. Dr. Jung’s individuation process is one of our greatest gifts from
the twentieth century. Beyond being a brilliant healer of the body and soul,
Jung brought us the use of the imagination and the experiences of creativity
and love in a new way.
I can put my answer to you very simply by saying that it was the ideas
in Dr. Jung’s individuation process that challenged me to become more
fully engaged in life. Dr. Jung was strongly convinced that only a full
engagement in life can give us the necessary material for reflections that
can transform our consciousness. In individuation, reflecting upon a life
being lived is meant to teach us more about ourselves, to increase our daily
self-awareness, to expand our consciousness, and to guide us in cultivating
our capacities to love. Without mincing any words Dr. Jung told a
convention of pastors before I was born that we must be willing to take
risks and make mistakes. And, that if “we do the wrong thing with all of our
hearts we will end up at the right place.”
Then, to illustrate this amazing conclusion—that has given me so
much comfort over the years—Jung used the example of Saint Paul’s
conversion from the man Saul—who was persecuting the Christians—to
Paul who became one of the founders of the Christian religion. It was Saul’s
pursuit of his own worst mistake, according to Dr. Jung, that put him on the
road to Damascus and the total transformation of his life. And then, Dr.
Jung electrified me with his position that our mistakes, neuroses,
complexes, addictions, and dysfunctions are more than shameful, negative
characteristics that we need to ferret out, overcome or get rid of. He
considered these things—that we usually dislike or despise about ourselves
—as containers of a divine spark.
At first, they appear as blocks to our full development such as the
achievement of our goals or hopes and dreams, including those of having
relationships built on love and trust. But within these very blocks are the
seeds, even the roadmaps and the energy, that when opened and tapped,
lead us to wholeness which means the ability to live as fully as possible.
Dr. Jung’s thinking is so radical and challenges us to such a
transformative way of life that conventional religious and psychological
institutions have rarely dared to try to understand what he is trying to teach
us. All too often there is nothing in our intellectual and emotional
development that can give us the frame of reference we need to grasp what
Jung is trying to teach. It took me years of re-education through study,
analysis, and new life experiences to be able to even come up with
intelligent questions about individuation. However, Jung’s teachings
captured my imagination and the longings in my heart and soul over forty
years ago, and I have devoted my life to this kind of work.
The path of individuation challenges us to grow and to be full of
vitality for the rest of our lives. In a way that is demanding and difficult for
us to understand, true growth usually begins with a serious problem, a block
in our life, a breakdown or a serious illness, or a general feeling of
restlessness that is calling for a change in the basic structure of how we
perceive ourselves and life. The questioning eyes of my five-year-old self
years ago, looking at me in the landscape of my childhood, was reminding
me that I needed to differentiate myself, once again, not only from old
attitudes, values, and complexes from my childhood, but also those in my
recent past and present, including the ones that have supported my success
so far.
The final piece of the journey, my midlife journey, was learning to
listen more to my unconscious and its expressions, to discover and integrate
disowned parts of myself, and to pursue an ultimate wholeness and balance
in my life. The most exciting and frightening part of this journey is that it is
one of continuous transformation. This reality means it is difficult at times,
and always requires devotion. In addition, it forces us to question our basic
assumptions about who we are and what we value, again and again. And,
we also have to keep in mind that deep down in our personalities our ego
always prefers comfort and safety to transformation.
So, we have to face the unpleasant reality that the pursuit of self-
knowledge means we question every aspect of conventional wisdom, of our
religion, or lack of religion, our notions of what love is, our approaches to
problem-solving, our ideas of peace and the value of struggle, the value of
suffering, and the meaning of unhappiness in our lives.
In order to bring my discussion down to earth and help clarify what I
am talking about I am going to focus on several aspects of Jung’s thinking
that have been especially important to me in my personal journey and my
practice as a Jungian analyst. And, I want to explain and then discuss with
you how developing more inner clarity showed me that my conventional
view of reality was a fiction, how it challenged my customary sense of
ethics, and led me into considering a new sense of ethics.
The Spirit of Individuation

Now, I want to begin my discussion of the Spirit of Individuation by telling
you a story. One day, a few years ago, a woman named Lisa came in to see
me. She sat down and softly said, “I’m tired of struggling. I just want to be
happy.” As she finished her statement, she was quietly weeping. I had
noticed that even in her sadness she was dressed in a way that showed she
put care into things.
“Can you tell me more?” I asked. She looked like she was wilting as
she began to speak. Her shoulders slumped and I could see the weariness in
her body and around her eyes. “I’ve been married for sixteen years,” she
said. “I think I love my husband, or at least I used to. But we argue a lot and
he doesn’t seem to desire me. I don’t think he even really sees me anymore.
We don’t talk. But we have two children and he’s not a bad father...I’m just
exhausted. We’ve been to counseling. I’ve read a stack of books. I said it
already. I’m worn out. I’m so depressed. I just want to be normal and
happy.”
Now, at this point three things are going on inside of me. First, I am
deeply touched to hear how Lisa, like so many people in our culture, just
wants to be normal and happy. This is such a deep human longing in a
society that teaches us that is this is what we should want, and that if we can
find it, our lives will work out well. And, secondly, I am aware that I must
remember fully who I am. I am a Jungian analyst. In the long run, it is not
my purpose to simply alleviate suffering, solve problems or help someone
make their life work so they can get on with it, or even to be normal and
happy. What I do is more complex than that, and I am given purpose and
direction in my life and work by Jung’s myth of individuation. All of our
situations are unique, and so is every encounter that we have in our
consulting rooms. And, thirdly, I have to remind myself to put all of my
Jungian theory and clinical training aside and to follow Jung’s advice, that
he states so elegantly in Memories, Dreams, Reflections—which is to listen
to Lisa’s story until I understand what it is like to be in her shoes. This point
is fundamental in Jung’s approach. Eventually, I am able to understand the
true depth of her story because I have worked carefully and reflectively on
understanding my own story and continue to do so.
By working with so many people I have learned to be clear on a few
points every time I embark with a new person. To begin with, individuation
is not a self-improvement program. It is much more than firming up, losing
weight, having more positive thoughts, or solving problems and getting on
with your life.
And, individuation is not self-actualization. The mythologist Joseph
Campbell noted that self-actualization is for people with nothing better to
do—people who don’t know their personal myth or deeper purpose in life.
The humanistic psychologist Abraham Maslow’s hierarchy of needs for
security, prestige, self-development and even personal relationships are not
the primary values a person inspired by their deeper Self, or the thread of
their individuation, lives for.
Simply put, individuation is about transformation. It means being
willing to embrace a lifetime of full-fledged metamorphosis analogous to a
caterpillar becoming a butterfly over and over again. It means letting go of
the defining characteristics that make up our identity for the sake of
becoming something further enhanced by the Self, with a capital “S”, the
Divine spark within us. The pain in this process is the pain of breaking
through our own limitations. The joy is our increased capacity for living
and feeling at home within ourselves, and experiencing our wholeness.
Now, you can very well imagine that when Lisa begins this path, she
will probably be accused of becoming self-absorbed by her husband or
other friends and family, who find that the way she is relating to them is
changing. They may accuse her of becoming selfish and irresponsible. As
Lisa develops self-awareness, she may also realize that like many of us, she
carries her responsibilities as a burden or a weight. When she does this, like
many of us, she is using them in a selfish way, as a defense against looking
more closely at herself. This kind of approach will diminish her capacities
for growth and eventually make her feel resentful of the people she feels
responsible for.
Now, this realization about how we often carry our responsibilities as
a burden and a defense is a very important insight. It can be life changing
for many of us, so let me repeat it. As Lisa develops self-awareness, she
may also realize that, like most of us, she carries her responsibilities in a
selfish way—as a burden, a weight, an obstacle against self-examination.
Using her responsibilities as a defense mechanism and even as an avoidance
of self-love diminishes her and makes her feel resentful of the people she
feels responsible for.
However, knowing what I know about the process of individuation
gives me hope for Lisa. For example, Lisa tries hard. She has worked at her
marriage, and gone to counseling. She argues with her husband and pays
attention to how she looks. In addition, she pays attention to her suffering
and frustration and tries to do something about it. In other words, Lisa is
engaged in life. And, one of our primary goals in facilitating individuation
is to get people more fully engaged in life.
Dr. Jung explains clearly that we cannot know how to live our lives in
advance; that knowledge can only come as a result of being fully engaged
in living. To explain this point he continues his discussion of Saul’s
conversion to Paul that I mentioned earlier. Jung says, “Saul owed his
conversion neither to true love, not to true faith, not to any other truth. It
was solely his hatred of the Christians that set him on the road to Damascus
and to that decisive experience which was to alter the whole course of his
life. He was brought to this experience by following out, with conviction,
his own worst mistake.” Now, this is no small conclusion to get your head
around.
In Lisa’s case, for years, whether she has been moved by love or
desperation, she is still pursuing something—and this desire on her part
gives me hope. And, here’s something else that gives me hope for Lisa. As
wonderful as all of the benefits of individuation sound, neither I nor anyone
I know, chose this path because of its benefits. In fact, we are chosen for it,
by something deep within us. And, our awakening—the crack in the illusion
of how we are living—our call, generally comes in the form of a personal
crisis that lasts, repeats, or gets worse until we begin to answer the call or
repress it with such force that it becomes a serious set of emotional or
physical symptoms, and we end up in lives that are spiritually and
emotionally congealed.
Another aspect of individuation that can bring hope to Lisa is to
realize that she hasn’t been doing things wrong. We are all too familiar with
how our culture hammers us with the idea that if we aren’t happy, we aren’t
getting things right. This insidious pressure made Lisa feel guilty and
ashamed. In fact, she felt like a failure in many ways. And most of us have
felt the same way at one time or another. These feelings bring us face-to-
face with the reality that being normal doesn’t mean being happy or
fulfilled. In fact, from the standpoint of individuation, we do not want to
return to being normal—we want to grow beyond normal.
Lisa’s unhappiness, frustrations or symptoms mean that she is facing a
psychological and spiritual turning point. Her challenge is to begin a
process of transformation that, while difficult in its appearance, will offer
great rewards. Lisa, like so many of us in these kinds of situations, also
realized deep in her heart that following any other course would ultimately
diminish or be destructive to her.
It took some work for Lisa to develop the strength to shift her
perspective away from the idea that she must be doing something wrong, or
that something was wrong with her if she was suffering so much. It took
even more strength and support from me—support grounded in my own
personal experience of individuation—to begin to think of her problems as
potential teachers, or in other words, guides to transformation and a larger
capacity for life.
It is no small task to learn to see our depression, anxiety, weight,
relationship problems, addictions, and illnesses as efforts of our psyche to
heal us—as symptoms that are trying to get us to change, in ways that will
help our lives become better on a more profound level. Jung calls learning
to value our problems and how they can lead us into becoming transformed,
the “teleological aspects” of symptoms.
As Lisa became brave enough to accept this point of view, she could
see that behind her problems and dissatisfactions were hidden the powerful
psychological and spiritual influences that had shaped her attitudes toward
life, and that had become her guiding principles.
Now, once again speaking as an analyst, let me be clear when I say
that if we need to cure, fight, defeat or overcome a symptom or even an
illness, we have made our problem into an enemy and are losing the
teleological value of it. Of course, it is easy to see that this point of view is
counter-cultural. It negates our ideas of control, rationality, curing, and to
some extent the notion of alleviating human misery. But if, for example,
Lisa makes an enemy of her current feelings of depression, she gives them
power. The 43rd hexagram in the I Ching helps explain how this process
actually works. The hexagram says that, “If evil is branded, it thinks of
weapons, and if we do it the favor of fighting against it blow for blow, we
lose in the end because then we ourselves get entangled in the hatred and
passion.” Or, in other words, our traditional approach to dealing with
symptoms and problems can easily cause us to develop a war within
ourselves.
On the other hand, when Lisa takes the Jungian position, she
immediately gains a certain amount of distance and separation from her
depression. It becomes what we call something that is “Not-I.” This opens a
number of doors as to how she can relate to it—as to how to seek to
understand it from the inside—and how it may want her to change her life
in order to become more whole and complete as a person.
We all know that there is a lot of emphasis on choices in our society.
So at one point in our work together, Lisa wondered if better parenting or
counseling earlier in her life could have put her on a more satisfying path.
During this discussion I shared some of my own experience of growth and
how as a businessman my depression made me question my choice of
career. Yet it was my experiences during this career that helped me develop
the ego strength and maturity to risk further changes and pursue new
dreams. It is important to remember that we never know the innermost truth
about how our mistakes, failures, and tragedies may be affecting our
destinies. Lisa learned quickly and was relieved to discover that we rarely
make the wrong choices. We make the ones necessary for our growth and
that is what she had done.
In summary, until this point I have been talking about the spirit of
individuation. Theoretically, individuation is the conscious realization of
our unique personality, including its strengths and weaknesses—and the
living with this complexity which makes us a unique and differentiated
person. On the personal level, however, it is encountering the difficulties
that make us slow down and listen to life. It means beginning the inner
journey, accepting the importance of self-knowledge and the unconscious,
as a partner in informing our lives. This journey shifts how we look at our
inner selves, and the life around us, as we realize that being fully human is a
much more profound activity than self-improvement or self-actualization. I
have learned that Individuation brings healing as it initiates us into
becoming artists of living—people struggling to hold their clarity of vision
against the rat-race of busyness and obligations pressing on us today.
Living the Questions

About midway through our work Lisa commented, “As I look back, I can
see how restless I have been, how frustrated, and how hard I was trying to
deny it because life seemed so good. Now I realize I was searching. During
the first part of our work, I thought I was searching for intimacy and a sense
of being loved. Then I began to understand I was searching for much more
than that. I needed to discover the path that is my life.”
Like myself, Lisa had been caught in the familiar paradox of seeming
to have a good life, or a secure life, and yet knowing it wasn’t working for
her. A dream that Lisa had, in which she was confronted by a furious
geisha, had scared her and made her think that something was wrong deep
inside of her. As many of you know, dreams themselves are a creative
response to our reality and often provide good advice. In Lisa’s case, it was
this dream that led her to see me. Having a good life and realizing it wasn’t
working was Lisa’s initiation into one of the first tests of awakening
consciousness—that of living in a contradiction. It took me an awfully long
time to realize that life is made up of living in contradictions. The reality
was they scared me, made me anxious and uncomfortable. So I did what
most of us do. I denied and repressed the conflicts they caused me.
Just like Lisa, if I had a good life that didn’t seem to work for me, did
I want to risk it to look for something else? Unfortunately, denial and
repression led me to live in a make-believe world that was diminishing me
as a person. Living in contradictions is what Jung refers to as living in “the
tension of opposites.” And, as I have said, we hate to live in contradictions,
or in Jung’s words, to hold “the tension of opposites.” Lisa was afraid her
ambivalence about her “good life” would make her look weak and selfish to
the people around her. At a deeper level she was afraid that the tension
might cause her to do something drastic, something that might hurt the
people she loved, disgrace her, or embarrass her family, or eventually break
her heart.
However, I have learned that the Jungian approach to these dilemmas
can become a springboard into a whole new life. Jung’s idea is that if we
have the courage to develop the characteristics of, and the arguments for,
each side of the contradiction—which means to bring each opposite pole
into full conscious awareness—and then hold these two in full
consciousness—then the tension between these opposing perspectives will
become a source of new creative energy in the unconscious that will give us
a solution that is beyond what we could have figured out rationally. Jung
labeled this process “the transcendent function.”
I know that the first generation Jungian analyst Erich Neumann is
right when he says that it is the building up and holding the tensions, that
arouses the creative potential in our deepest being. In my experience, these
contradictions or conflicts generally arise from two sources. First, the path
of our individuation will bring us into conflict with one of our conventional
values—a value we have used to help define ourselves or a responsibility or
obligation we feel. The second conflict comes when we meet a part of
ourselves that we have repressed into our shadow that once again, if
accepted, will cause us to change who we think we are.
For example, Lisa, like most of us, started in early childhood to make
choices about who she would be and how she would respond to life in ways
that would make her feel safe and affirmed. In making these decisions,
which were generally made unconsciously while she was growing up, she
reduced a situation of conflict by deciding to adopt certain characteristics
and cut off other ones. When she decided to win approval, she cut off the
prospect of confronting people. When she decided to be rational, she cut
away the possibility of becoming furious. When her early life was
threatening and she decided to protect herself with a hard emotional shell,
she cut away and buried her vulnerability. She cut these things out of her
ego-identity and repressed them into her shadow.
This is how we generally develop in the first half of life. The better I
am at adapting, the better I am at cutting away opposing thoughts, feelings,
and characteristics that might get me in trouble or into a conflict. At some
level, we want our lives to be problem and conflict-free in order to function
smoothly and feel safe.
The process of growing up and adapting leaves us with an ego that is
made up of the things we identified with, for one reason or another, either
through adaptation, rebellion, or a refusal to grow up. We then believe we
know what we want, what we believe, what we think we can do, what we
believe we love, what we believe we value and what we regard as the aim
of our lives. Because of the way our environment affected us as we
developed, because of the ways we experienced love, and learned
instinctively to expect the world to be safe and supportive, or hostile and
isolating, and because of other ways we were wounded or affirmed—we
found ourselves having to adapt. And that adaptation shaped us, in a one-
sided way, as we had to repress parts of ourselves, in order to try and feel a
sense of safety and security.
As Lisa and I slowly explored her story and the conflicts she was
having, she quickly began to see how helpful, what Jung called the
compensatory perspective of the unconscious, is in giving us balance and
clarity. In other words, the characters and stories in her dreams, her
conflicts, her longings, and yes, even her unhappiness and depression, were
giving us clues to the parts of herself that needed to be recognized,
reclaimed from her shadow and integrated into her personality, in order for
her to become a more authentic person.
It is important that we realize that if we refuse to recognize the help
and assistance from our unconscious and rigidly live out of our ego alone,
we will be living in a state of continuous error in how we understand
ourselves and perceive our lives. We will be wrong about how we
understand our relationships and the nature of the world—no matter how
successful our lives appear to be. But when our unconscious begins to urge
us toward wholeness around mid-life, sometimes sooner, sometimes later,
the characteristics and potentials we have repressed or denied seem to be
coming back to haunt us. As these parts of ourselves are struggling to
emerge, they threaten our idea of how we have defined ourselves, and thrust
us into the need to change who we are, how we live—and into the
contradictions this necessity brings.
Now, it doesn’t take much insight to see that if we don’t open our
consciousness—our egos—to this growth we will force our denied conflicts
out into the world around us and project our shadow characteristics onto our
partners, our children, and others, or we will force them into our bodies as
physical problems. Repressed shadow conflicts easily become physical
problems. This needed opening of our personality takes courage because we
must lower the psychological defenses that give us our sense of security and
safety, in order to incarnate a greater sense of conscious wholeness.
For example, it took great courage for Lisa to deconstruct the illusion
of what she wanted her marriage to be, and yet she found this gave her a
new freedom within it. What this meant in terms of individuation was that
she held the tension between her ideals of marriage and what she thought
she needed, and the reality as she saw it, without acting in ways to damage
or abolish either perspective until she found that something new—a new
perspective—a new vision of relationships or a new sense of who she was,
had evolved in her. She held the tension. She didn’t seek to get her ideals or
needs met in a new relationship or to sublimate them in an affair, a new
house, vacation home, or a great vacation.
Now, again, pay close attention to what I am saying because this is
very important. Here is the formula for activating the transcendent function:
1. Fully engage in life. In other words, quit seeing life as
something we want to avoid. By this I mean, accept that taking
risks, loneliness, conflict, defeat, and suffering are not only vital
parts of life, they are necessary to transformation, wholeness, and
the experience of joy.
2. Reflect upon your life. This means to be aware of the
contradictions that come up in your life, don’t repress them.
Amplify and explore them. Make the opposites fully conscious
and hold them in your awareness. Use your journal, dreams, and
active imagination to help you in the way I explain in my book,
Sacred Selfishness.
3. Bear the burden of the conflict. Remember that Jung points out
that suffering isn’t pathological; it is part of life. It is our refusal
to bear legitimate suffering that causes neurotic pain. So, don’t
resort to fight or flight, taking an easy way out, or trying to
sublimate or repress the conflict.
4. Live the transformation. Remember, we must change the way
we live so that our lives are an expression of our expanded
consciousness, self-awareness, and purpose. If we don’t, all this
work has simply been a mind game.
So, remember these four steps: (1) Fully engage in life, (2) Reflect
upon your life, (3) Bear the burden of your conflict, and (4) Live the
transformation.
Now let’s see what this process meant for Lisa. As part of her journey,
she had to go through the difficult process of figuring out that what she
longed for and wanted in her marriage was an ego ideal based on her
history, wounds, and family and cultural values. This doesn’t mean what
she wanted was wrong. It simply meant that what she was seeking wasn’t
complete and wasn’t based on her potentials for wholeness. Then, as a
result of holding the tension, using it to fuel her inner search, reflecting on
and amplifying her feelings around the situation, a new solution emerged
that we could not have planned or foreseen.
So, it is important to note that Lisa did not simply try to adjust to the
“so-called” reality of her situation. Nor did she assume she had to accept
her husband for who he was, and suppose that she had no right to ask him to
change. What happened is that she discovered a new freedom. By becoming
free of her ideal of what a marriage should be, she no longer had to try to
make her life work to fit it. She became more authentic and grounded in her
own personhood. From this foundation, she could love and relate to her
husband and herself in new and evolving ways. I might also mention that if
she had decided to leave the relationship due to this new knowledge, she
would not have ended up pursuing the same old ideal unconsciously in new
relationships.
These experiences of renewal are very satisfying and even bring a
sense of wonder. But, they may also put us into a painful paradox. This
paradox causes a huge conflict in people that begin the journey with the
secret hope of living a beautiful, self-actualized life that has seemed to be
constantly eluding them. In my own case, I felt that life had been
continually throwing roadblocks in my way. The result was that I wanted to
live an “ego-ideal,” a vision of life that was actually a fantasy. It was a
fantasy that had evolved in compensation for my earlier woundings and
longings. My Self, which I was totally out of touch with, when I was that
age, had a different story altogether in mind for me. I still had more to learn
from the failure of my so-called, at the time, “dreams and ambitions.” And
so did Lisa.
After several years of work, Lisa had a particularly angry and bitter
confrontation with her parents, who were now in their seventies. She was
deeply hurt as she was reminded that they had little interest in who she
really was, or was becoming. She remarked that she had thought this kind
of suffering was in her past.
The reality is that our suffering and its effects can never be fully
locked away in the basement of the past. Individuation, however, teaches us
how to integrate sorrow, disappointment, illness, and tragedy into a life
being fully engaged in. As we follow the path of individuation, we find out
that Dr. Jung is showing us how to discover a new blueprint for our lives
designed by our deepest Self and not by everyone else. That is why
individuation leads us to a more intense feeling of being alive and an
awareness of transcendent movements taking place within our selves and in
our lives. We will see what these experiences meant to Lisa.
During her next visit Lisa said, “I’ve been thinking about our
discussion of suffering. And, I remember that when I first came to see you I
wanted to learn how to find some peace in my life. I thought peace was a
lack of conflict or suffering. Now it seems that to be fully alive means being
at peace with the idea that life is full of conflict and suffering. Maybe that’s
what the ‘peace that passeth understanding’ really is.” Lisa is right.
Individuation, which is also the art of living or living creatively, means we
must develop a new version of our ideas of peace and well-being.
The creativity of life, of the Self, or individuation, always grows out
of conflicts, tension and suffering. This is another idea that our culture has
trouble understanding and is very resistant to. The archetypal pattern we
grow by, is that of transformation which is symbolized by life, death, and
rebirth. Our personality experiences the death process of old aspects of
ourselves through tension, conflict, betrayal, and destruction—tension
between our deep values and conventional values or obligations, being
betrayed by our most idealized people and institutions, having conflict
within ourselves and with others over these tensions, and finally, the
destruction of our fantasies and ideas of how things should be or what we
want. Individuation is a continuous flow of transformation. The peace that
is brought on, by the individuation process, is the acceptance of tension and
conflict as signs of the life force, the Self at work.
Finding the Home Within

Now, let me go on to talk about finding the sense of home within ourselves.
About midway through her analysis, Lisa came in with a dream that had
moved and disturbed her. In the dream she was dressed well, in her
professional persona, and she was holding the hand of a ten-year-old girl.
She and the little girl entered a large house. In the house they walked up
flight after flight of stairs. Finally, at the top, they entered a bedroom that
was in extreme disarray. Walking carefully into the room, they slowly
opened the door to a closet where they found themselves face to face with
an old woman who looked like a dreadful witch. But she was sitting on the
closet floor crying and crying. Lisa slowly said to me, “All at once I
realized that I don’t know what it means to be feminine. Here I am as a
child—before my whole psyche got overlaid with a masculine education
and values that focused on achievement, competition, getting things done,
and being in control of my life. And here shut away somewhere is my
feminine soul that I have no contact with.”
This dream represented another turning point for Lisa and it illustrates
one we must all face in individuation. Dr. Jung reported that he worked for
several decades with disturbed and unhappy women. Often those years were
frustrating for him, until he realized that he was working on the wound to
the archetypal feminine principle in our times, that had been inflicted by the
ages of rationalism, science, and technology.
Jung knew very well as he developed this idea of the other within us—
the unconscious, the shadow, the anima, the animus—that rather than seeing
the other as enlivening and expanding, we have been taught to experience
differences and otherness as hostile to our identity and our need to control
our lives.
As an archetypal principle, the feminine is beyond definition. In terms
of Yin in the Chinese tradition, it is the yielding, dark, moist nature of
earthiness, which is also solid and continuing. In terms of passion, we see it
in the creative destructiveness of the Hindu goddess Kali, the love affairs of
the Greek goddess Aphrodite, and, in another sense, the love of Mary and
the wisdom of Sophia. This principle doesn’t define either women or men
as an archetypal energy, it is present in all of us.
In our time, every one of us has been shaped by the masculine
principle as the dominant force in the world we live in. Coming from a
world of doing, competitiveness, achievement tests, self-discipline or
willpower, and being in control—has turned what Jung thought of as the
feminine principle, into something negative—an emotional force that we
repress and fear, one that we can’t control, don’t trust, and have difficulty
figuring out how to accept, love, and relate to. Of course, a certain amount
of the masculine principle of focused consciousness and activity is
necessary to become self-responsible adults. But, if we are limited to only
that, our capacities for love, creativity, and connectedness to life are also
limited.
In Jung’s perspective, receptivity to the creative principle of the Self is
necessary for the transformative acts of self-development in individuation.
In his great book, Symbols of Transformation, the book that caused his
separation from Freud, Jung amplifies the importance of the mother
archetype in each of us as the foundation for our creative receptivity and the
ability to nurture new beginnings in our lives and new wholeness in our
personalities. He also points out that this process leads to enormous tension
with the world of the ego and the symbolic “father.” In fact, he says we
must “slay the father” which means symbolically that we must slay the
inhibiting influences of practicality, safety, obligations, and conventional
wisdom.
The feminine principle affects how we are “being” in life and how we
are “being a person” rather than simply existing. Quite naturally, many of
us still associate coming into being, or failing to do so, with the woman
who took care of us early in life—which means how we were loved, or not
loved at the beginning. And that association determines how we relate to
our life, and in particular to our unconscious, our inner life. The modern
brain researchers, Lewis, Amini, and Lannon say in their book on
attachment theory and brain research, A General Theory of Love, that—and
listen to this—”From birth to death, love is not just the focus of human
experience, but also the life force of the mind, determining our moods,
stabilizing our body rhythms, and changing the structures of our
brains...Love makes us who we are, and who we can become.”
Now Jung who, as usual, was ahead of his time often equated the
feminine principle with eros, the formative power of life that works through
relatedness—through love in its many forms. The archetypal feminine
covers a vast world of images, such as the goddesses in every tradition. And
every positive image is matched with a negative one. The nurturing figure
of the Madonna is matched by the witch in Hansel and Gretel who devours
new life. Both are real; both have their place as opposites in our
personalities. And if we are going to become whole, we must be aware of
these opposite centers of archetypal energy—of how they live within us and
of how they affect our lives.
There are three aspects of the feminine element of being in the Jungian
approach. The first one is being grounded within one’s own nature. The
second one is the capacity to then be truly related to another person and to
other people. And the third aspect, which is another aspect of eros, is how
personally related we are to life. Of course, Jung includes the aspects of
inner and outer relatedness as being interdependent when he speaks of eros
as the feminine principle.
When we experience ourselves, our being, as rooted in the
unconscious and our instinctual lives, we are rooted in what Jung
considered the greater feminine principle or the ground within ourselves.
Lisa described this place as knowing when she was standing in her own
truth. From this being at home within ourselves, an unforced mode of
“doing” evolves—one that is inspired.
All of us, no matter who we are, in the pressures of our busy,
complicated lives, lose this fundamental relationship to ourselves, again and
again. We get caught in false “doing” that isn’t rooted in the ground of our
being, the Self. False “doing” manufactures a hollow or false sense of
identity and accomplishments. It assaults us with formulas for changing and
bettering ourselves, that ultimately leaves us feeling diminished, frustrated,
or empty, like imposters. At this very point, when we are in enough distress
to be open, Jung loved to tell “The Rainmaker Story” which he used to
illustrate our journey of return to ourselves. This story is so popular in our
circles that you may have heard it before.
In this story, a remote village in China was experiencing a prolonged
drought. The fields were parched, the crops were dying and the people were
facing starvation. They had done everything they could. They prayed to
their ancestors; their priests took the sacred images from their temples and
marched them around the parched fields. But no prayers or rituals brought
the rain that they so badly needed.
In despair, the villagers pooled their last few resources and sent for a
rainmaker from far away. When the little old man arrived, he found the
cattle dying and the people in a miserable state. When the people asked him
what he wanted, he said only a small hut and a little food and water. He
went into the hut, closed the door, and left the people wondering what he
was doing. On the third day, it began to rain. When he emerged, they asked
him what he did. “Oh,” he replied, “that is very simple. I didn’t do
anything. I came from an area that was in Tao, in balance. Your area is
disturbed, out of balance, and when I came into it, I became disturbed. I
retreated to the little hut to meditate, to bring myself back into balance.
When I am able to get myself in order, everything around me is set right.”
The point is that when we are caught in false “doing” we create a
wasteland for ourselves. The rainmaker does not cause the rain. By
returning to the feminine principle of being within, he allows the rain to
come. This receptive allowing, that isn’t trying to achieve and fix things,
allows the wasteland to receive nourishment, and as new growth begins, a
healthy form of doing will evolve.
As our journey of individuation progresses, we learn that being at
home, in the core of ourselves, is the foundation that gives us the security to
be with another, and to be in full relationship to life. Being in the core of
ourselves removes the fear of being abandoned or overwhelmed by other
people in life. The journey of individuation is in this sense a continuous
coming home to ourselves that gives us the ongoing courage to face the
suffering involved in allowing our buried talents to emerge, and to realize
the innate wisdom within us—that can only be forged by the fires of
feelings and passion that bring our soul to an inner glow.
If we can realize that, in general, the basic masculine or ego attitude
toward life is one of focus, division, accomplishment, and change and the
feminine (in either sex) is more nearly one of acceptance, gestation,
transformation, the unity of life, and a readiness for relationships—then we
can accept a rudimentary division of the psyche into masculine and
feminine. To discover what the feminine really means to us personally is to
go inward, and look for the images we find in dreams and our creative
imagination. There is no formula. Lisa began this quest with active
imagination by having continuous dialogs with the witch and herself, as a
young girl. She discovered that there is joy in finding what has been lost
and in cultivating feelings and potentials that have laid fallow for a lifetime.
As our final session was coming to a close, Lisa leaned forward and
said to me, “Looking inward has helped me feel the presence of love in my
life. That something has been interested in me all along, guiding my life,
supporting it in some strange way—trying to become known by me. It’s
somewhere within myself. It seems funny I had to seek it, while at the same
time allow it to find me. It brings a sense of peace, or serenity, no matter
what hardships I have to face.” This describes Lisa’s experience of what we
call the “Self.”
I would like to end with a quotation from Jung’s closing paragraph in
“The Technique of Differentiation” in Volume 7 of The Collected Works.
Jung says, “Here one may ask, perhaps, why it is so desirable that a man
should be individuated. Not only is it desirable, it is absolutely
indispensable because through his contamination with others he falls into
situations and commits actions that bring him into disharmony with himself.
From all states of unconscious contamination and non-differentiation, there
is begotten a compulsion to be and to act in a way contrary to one’s own
nature...For these reasons individuation is indispensable for certain people,
not only as a therapeutic necessity, but as a high ideal, an idea of the best
we can do. Nor should I omit to remark that it is at the same time the
primitive Christian ideal of the Kingdom of Heaven that ‘is within you.’
The idea at the bottom of this ideal is that right action comes from right
thinking, and there is no cure and no improving of the world that does not
begin with the individual himself.”
I like the ideas in this statement by Dr. Jung and I feel strengthened by
knowing that pursuing this inner path, a path of purpose and value, not only
brings me personal fulfillment, it brings me into a world where I can make a
unique contribution. By being devoted to the individuation process, I have
learned that no matter how desperate the moment in history is, I can change
my life in the direction of a greater wholeness of being and of experiencing
love in a greater awareness of the mystery of love.
After pursuing this path and carefully studying Dr. Jung’s work, I am
left wondering why it is so hard for our culture to understand that our
symptoms and difficulties are trying to transform us. And yet, I also realize
that to answer this question we must re-learn that the cultivation of wisdom
is more important and of more benefit to our lives than the acquisition of
knowledge alone.
Questions to Expand Our Understanding

1. I would like to ask you to write your reflections about Jung’s individuation process as a
path of awareness.
2. Did anything surprise you in this section?
3. What did you think and feel about the statement that “our symptoms and difficulties are
trying to transform us”?
Chapter 2 : Seminar
INDIVIDUATION:
W hen I opened my lecture, “The Promise in Jung’s Legacy and Why

Our Culture has Trouble Accepting It,” I mentioned a letter that
Jung wrote late in his life where he said that he considered his life a failure
because he had been unsuccessful in opening people’s eyes to the fact that
we have a soul and there is a buried treasure in the field—a field and a
treasure that we cannot see through the lens of our conventional
perspective.
As I continued musing over this letter, I remembered a dream that
came during one of my mid-life crises where I was sitting across the table
from a five-year-old version of myself. This very serious lad, and indeed I
have always been serious, looked me carefully in the eye and asked me,
“What have you done with my life?” The search for the answer to that
question has brought me here today and my answer has been my devotion
to living the individuation process.
During the evening lecture, I mentioned what I believe are some of
Jung’s most helpful points about living this way. One of my favorites is
that, “If you do the wrong thing with all of your heart, you will end up at
the right place.” In other words, life requires our full engagement, or we
have no foundation for developing self-awareness, consciousness, and
individuation.

1. I wonder what you think of that statement?
2. What is your emotional response to it?
As I continued, I also explained—and I think this point is a very

important one—that all too often there is nothing in our intellectual and
emotional development, in our shaping and educational processes, that can
give us the frame of reference that we need in order to grasp what Jung is
trying to teach. As we grew up, we identified with the dominant cultural
complexes in our society. These cultural complexes are the attitudes and
perspectives that supply the lens through which we see ourselves and life.
For example, in general, our educational systems teach us to accumulate
facts, ideas, and concepts that it considers a body of knowledge. On the
other hand, individuation teaches us to build our consciousness and our
capacities for love by being fully engaged in life, reflecting upon our
experiences, and bringing what we have learned into a new version of
living. I will say more about this process later, but you can quickly see that
individuation is the cultivation of wisdom and receptivity, rather than the
building of a body of knowledge.
This process in itself is counter cultural. In a society that values
concepts, facts, goals, accomplishing things, focusing on other people,
positive thinking, and so on, individuation gives us a new perspective, a
new language, and new practices to help us understand the experiences we
all have as human beings. These are the experiences of a life where we are
fully engaged in it. These experiences need to be cultivated and reflected
upon, intentionally and precisely, in order to serve as a force not only for
self-knowledge but also for self-transformation.
Through discussing the following topics, I’m going to explain
individuation and why we have trouble accepting it:
I. The Quest for Consciousness and Living a Life with Soul.

II. The Path of Individuation and Transformation as the Descent into
Life.
III. The Jungian Process: Story, Dreams, Healing, and Individuation.
IV. Creative Transformation, Love, and Wholeness.
I. The Quest for Consciousness and Living a
Life with Soul
Living a life with soul and consciousness requires that we give up our roles
as victims and create an inner culture of questioning and seeking. Normally
we live in a dream state, where our perceptions on the inside are governed
by the complexes that control our egos, and on the outside, our reality is the
illusion created by the complexes we are projecting. In awakening from this
dream state, I think it helpful to consider what I mean when I say, “living a
life with soul.” Here are a few ideas for us to consider:
Living a Life of Soul

1. Amor Fati – Love Your Fate
2. New Heroism – A Turning Point
3. Transform From Victim to Seeker
4. Right Relationship with Depth
5. Become a Witness
6. Become an Apprentice
7. Relationship with Unconscious and Self – Our Lifetime’s Inner Work
To begin with, Amor Fati means accepting our fate, a term from
Nietzsche that both Jung and Campbell were fond of using. This is really a
second-half-of-life need—that is, a state of longing for meaning. We are
thrust into this state after experiencing the psychological heroism of the first
half of life. As you may know, heroism, in the first half of life, describes the
quest for independence, identity, and a place in the world. We need this
heroic attitude in order to overcome and subdue the dragon of our
dependency needs. Heroism supports our struggle to achieve a place in the
world and stability in love and work. But when midlife, unhappiness,
trauma, or illness thrusts us into the search for meaning—as well as the
need for the support of our own depths and the Divine within us, the Self—
a new kind of heroism is called for. This heroism is the ability to say yes to
our fate, to what is already happening to us, to dive into it and into our own
depths.
Such is the transformation Parsifal made when he turned from being a
glorious knight—the fulfillment of a childhood dream—into a knight
seeking the grail and the right questions to ask of it, in order to bring new
vitality and wholeness into the kingdom, which is the symbol of our inner
being. It is the turn that Chiron the centaur made when he gave up eternal
life and the inflated sense that he could be his own redeemer. He began to
cooperate with the forces that shaped him and, at that moment, was
transformed from a tragic victim into a courageous seeker, one who was
prepared to plunge into the unknown in search of healing, wholeness,
authenticity, and a new dynamic spirit of life. By doing this, he became the
guiding archetypal spirit of the wounded healer. And incidentally, if we are
in pain—whether it is psychological, emotional, or physical—making this
turn will lessen it.
THE RIGHT RELATIONSHIP WITH DEPTH
This turning point marks a transition in our lives toward having what
we might call a “right relationship” with our depth...and our depth—the
Self—will respond to our seeking a relationship with it. In the spirit of this
relationship, we become a witness to what wants to unfold in our lives and
an apprentice to what life, our complexes, our troubles, our failures, and the
Self are trying to teach us.
Living with soul, thus, is a transformation of our heroic attitude of
winning, achieving, accomplishment, and trying to be in control of our
lives, into a new kind of heroism that accepts the reality of where and who
we are, and then moves us to become a courageous explorer of the
interaction between our inner and outer worlds. And we explore by
reflecting upon our experiences...upon how our story has led us to these
experiences...and upon how and what our unconscious (including our
complexes as well as the Self) is trying to teach us. Whatever our life’s
work may be in a material sense, this inward journey and our relationship
with our unconscious and the Self will be our lifetime’s inner work.

Now, I’ve said a lot. Let us stop for a few questions.
I would like to ask you:
1. What do you think the significance of this turning point is?
2. How do you think it can be relevant to your life right now?
Dangers in This Process of Turning Inward

...for you to reflect on...
1. Sounding prescriptive and intellectual
2. Making it sound too easy when the emotional side may be deep, profound and challenging
3. Ego takes over—unconscious and Self lose their position as “not I”
Understanding Our Biggest Danger—The Collective Shadow

1. How it negates inner world and inner journey
2. How it causes us to split ourselves and thus to think we can control everything
3. How it emphasizes our obligations and duties
The biggest danger that we face within and without ourselves is the
collective shadow of our culture. Let me tell you a few ways this shadow
affects us.
1. We, as a society, have negated the value of the inner world, the
inner journey, and the idea of a committed search for the Divine
within us. Even people who sincerely want to value the inner
journey find it difficult to give adequate time to the process—and
this is because we are always caught in the undertow of a cultural
tide that idolizes concrete outer activity, busyness, and
accomplishments.
2. And we split ourselves by thinking we can control everything
through consciousness, meaning in this case, ego consciousness,
or at the other extreme through magic, currently referred to as
manifesting things such as abundance and so on.
In the first case, we have to give up the ideas of many of our cherished
dreams and fantasies, which are generally compensatory to our major
wounds and complexes. And we have to give up our limited ideas of what a
psychology is, and by this I mean our notions that we can gain rational or
so-called conscious control over our emotions, moods, attractions, destinies,
and so on by making “better choices.” Better choices aren’t controlled—
they come naturally, not even as choices, when we have healed and
restructured the inner foundation of who and what we are.
In the second case, we have to learn to understand that our self-help
gurus and best-selling authors are so popular, not because they are giving an
accessible expression to deeper reality, but because they are presenting what
the public, which means most of us, wishes were true. For example, few of
them endorse “The Descent” that we will talk about next, that is supported
in the wisdom traditions of our great religions. Now, I’m not saying we
can’t learn a few handy things from these people and books. But, I will say
that few of them help us live continually in the deep streams of support and
transformation that flow within us, or help us to recognize ourselves as the
“Beloved” of the Self, the Divine within.
Now there is a third aspect of the collective shadow we have to
confront, and that is the idea of obligations and duties we have, and our
fantasies of ourselves as good or bad people, or perhaps both. Note that I
said confront, not abandon. The obligations—which in fact we often use as
a defense against accepting ourselves, and our ideas of who we are good
and bad—offer us the fuel for a struggle that can refine and transform us. In
addition, when we go against a cultural norm, Jung informs us that we will
experience a degree of guilt that can only be expiated by bringing value
back to the culture.

So, I’ve made some strong statements here...
1. What kind of responses, thoughts, and feelings do they bring up in you? And these
statements are complicated...
2. How do you understand them or what do you think about them?
A Struggle Between our Values, Obligations, and the Call for

Transformation
So, on the inner journey, I—meaning my ego—am challenged again and
again. It is challenged to separate from my persona and ideals of who and
what I should be. It is called, like Moses, to “set my people free from
bondage”, to let my enslaved feelings and talents out of the captivity of
conventional wisdom and obligations—not to run amok but to begin a
psycho-spiritual journey to a new land. Like Abraham, our ego is called by
the Self to leave the wisdom and security of the culture, out of the land of
the “fathers”, out of the manufacture of our cultural idols, appearances, and
success, and into a new land of opportunity and miracles.
Then we must meet and confront our wounds and our shadows, walk
up to our own Golgotha where our ego will suffer and be transformed.
Meeting our wounds means creating the interior space to hold the reality of
our experiences—our hopes, joys, terrors, hurts, triumphs, and finally our
strength. It means accepting the anger and rage that breaks the mold of our
denials, and frees us to experience the stages of grief inherent in every life,
and in every experience of transformation. Leaving denial means seeing the
poor dysfunctional men, women, and criminals within us, and going
through the stages of grief from former hurts and events that shamed and
diminished us.
Meeting our wounds also means redeeming our anima and animus
from their inner primitive state, where they are usually attached to our
shadow and its complexes. Then the anima and animus become guides to
our soul, and we can discover the support of the Self—discover that
something inside of us is caring about us, is confirming us, is unfolding our
future, and yet will not rescue us from anything.
The Soul Contract

The Soul Contract: Practices for Pursuing the Journey
1. Engage
2. Reflect
3. Transform Consciousness
4. Live the Transformation
The Soul Contract begins with our becoming fully engaged in life, and
proceeds as we learn a devoted practice of reflecting upon our experiences,
until our reflections enlarge and transform our consciousness. Then we
must integrate this new level of consciousness into our lives. This is the
contract: (1) Engage, (2) Reflect, (3) Transform consciousness and (4) Live
the transformation.
The Map of Stage One in the Individuation Process
The Map of Stage One in the Individuation Process

1. Freedom from Our Parents
2. Freedom from Our Dependency Needs
3. Transform Major Complexes
4. Freedom from World Parents
Now I want to share with you a Map for Stage One in our Individuation
Process:
1. Freedom from our parents—our mother and father complexes

and the complexes we have internalized from them that define
us. Now, please remember that freedom from complexes mean
transforming them and being transformed by them, not heroically
overcoming them. Also remember that deep in our bones we
rarely want to change—but deeper in our souls is a longing to
become reconciled with possibilities within us that we may only
faintly sense.
2. Freedom from our dependency needs: These include our needs
for a soul mate—our need to be loved unconditionally—to be
truly accepted, understood, and so on.
3. Transforming our major complexes: These complexes reside in
our shadows and are rooted in our parental complexes.
4. Freedom from the world parents: Our Jungian name for the
parental influences of the culture on our development, world
parent complexes include the following.
a. More dependency needs, such as depending on the culture
to define values and directions
b. Obligations functioning as defenses and complexes
c. The definition of a good life
d. The definition of being religious
e. Other such complexes we have internalized or been
indoctrinated into by the culture
Now, so far we are simply out of Egypt, so to speak, and are beginning
the journey to the Promised Land. One may wonder: what is worth this kind
of commitment? We will explore the answer to this question and the
promises of the journey further in the next three sections.
We must also remember that in this journey we talk a lot about
suffering, trauma, and struggling because that is an aspect of life. But, the
journey is really about transformation, about realizing the deep strengths of
a support within us, about surviving intact, and being able to love and to
realize that even while we have been caught in illusions, complexes, and
denial—something in our nature is still looking out for us.
EXPERIENCING THE SUPPORT OF THE SELF

At this point, the Self is experienced as the support of a hidden hand.
Learning how to love—without our efforts at it reflecting needy
psychological pursuits, idealistic fantasies, or sentimental hopes—is a
success in itself. Whether this love brings a successful relationship or not is
another story that concerns our destiny. But, simply being able to love in
this way means that some part of being human in us has become vitally
alive.
II. The Path of Individuation and

Transformation as the Descent into Life
When I think about the title of this second part of the seminar, “The Path of
Individuation and Transformation as the Descent into Life,” I always find it
interesting, even amusing, that when the newest pied piper for
enlightenment is speaking in our town, he or she is usually focusing on how
we can achieve peace and joy. Well, no wonder! That is what sells or what
creates followings because that is what so many of us think we are longing
for.
On the other hand, all of our great religions (and I am not speaking of
the pied pipers they also have), those religions that religious scholar Huston
Smith calls our wisdom traditions, have a very different emphasis. For
example, a rabbi famous in Jewish history lived in a tent pitched next to the
walls of Jerusalem because he wanted to be close to the poor. When Prince
Siddhartha walked out of his father’s palace, he came face to face with
poverty, illness, and death. These encounters launched his journey into
becoming the Buddha. In Christianity, Jesus says in the gospel of Matthew:
“For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners,” when he was asked
about the people he liked to spend his time with.
Our wisdom traditions tell us that the root meaning of the word
salvation means “the way of redemption” or the “way to wholeness.” As we
follow this line of thinking, we discover that our journey into wholeness, or
holiness, in the words of the mystical traditions, begins in a paradoxical
way—not by a search for peace and joy—but by acknowledging the grit
and grist of life: suffering, illness, death, and our alienation from ourselves
and the depth of our own spiritual and psychological capacities. Now, this is
a very important point: it is the full acceptance of these aspects of ourselves
that initiates our journey into becoming fully human, fully incarnated, and
more open to joy.
Of course we all want a good life. And when we encounter life’s
difficulties we want peace of mind, good relationships, and we want to keep
our lifestyle and habits—the personalities we are used to. And of course our
culture supports this point of view. The culture doesn’t see our wounds and
difficulties as calls for transformation. It sees them as symptoms to alleviate
so we can get back to “normal,” which actually means functional in a social
way, not a spiritual, psychological, or even a personally fulfilling way.
In addition, most of us want to have a vision of life that is successful,
prosperous, and fulfilling, and if we have children, we want to have a dream
of a successful life for them. We get angry with them, ourselves, and life
when our dreams and visions fail. But, the failures of these dreams and
visions are very important for they are meant to awaken us to compassion—
compassion not for others, but for ourselves and for how difficult life is.
Generally we need our dreams of a good life to carry us into
adulthood. But later, we also need for these dreams to fail, in order to make
way for our wholeness to begin to emerge and be discovered. And we need
the self-compassion that these experiences can generate, in order to accept
the difficulties in our lives as spiritual and psychological incubations and
not as failures. Plus, as we begin to do the work in what Jung called “the
realization of our shadow,” we need this capacity for compassion in order to
accept the poor, dispossessed and disapproved parts of ourselves.
To illustrate this point, I’ll share with you the words of the Ba‘al Shem
Tov, founder of the Hassidic tradition in Judaism. He said, “There are many
rooms in God’s castle.” Does that sound familiar? He then went on to say,
“There is, however, one key that opens every room, and that key is a broken
heart.”

1. How do you feel about the statement of the Ba‘al Shem Tov?
2. What do you think about this emphasis on suffering, the disowned, compassion, the broken
heart and so on?
The statement of the Ba’al Shem Tov reminds us of the emotional
reality involved in the realization of our shadow, of making a true descent
into life. Here is a chart from Barbara Hannah’s book on Jung. Notice the
Island of Consciousness above the wave and the Unconscious below the
wave.
EGO AND SHADOW
In this diagram, our ego develops like an island out of our unconscious
as the basis of our identity. The ego consists of the things, attitudes, and
values we identified with as we grew up in order to form who we are. To
function in our families and society, we usually identify with values,
attitudes, and behaviors that either bring approval, affirmation, and safety or
are instead a desperate rebellion to keep ourselves from being
overwhelmed. The opposite of what we identify with goes into our shadow.
To illustrate, I have listed virtues and vices on the chart you see here.
VIRTUES VICES
humility pride
generosity covetousness
temperance lust
love envy
moderation gluttony
patience anger
industry sloth
DEALING WITH THE PARADOXES OF OUR SHADOWS
1. Acceptance
2. Valuing
As we develop psychological maturity, the problem we run into is that

every virtue can have an unseen negative effect. Humility can make us
passive and compliant, and it can cause us to build up an unconscious
volcano of resentment or even pride in our virtuous behavior. On the other
hand, a vice, such as pride, can have a positive effect, urging us to reach
beyond ourselves, and it can even save us from despair.
Once again, you can see paradoxes at work here. What happened as
we formed our identities is that we generally identified with characteristics,
feelings, ideas, and attitudes that we felt would make our lives work, and
they came to represent what we thought were our strengths and best values.
In other words, we developed our own unconscious lists of virtues and vices
to guide us.
When these identifications begin to fail, people come in to see us
professionally, because they have become unhappy, discontent, or were
never able to form a workable list and want their suffering to stop.
Now, two things make it possible for our suffering to begin to stop.
First is the acceptance of our suffering—remember self-compassion is
needed, not self-judgment. Acceptance is the necessary first step in
transforming anything psychological, according to Jung. But our next
question is, what will our suffering be transformed into? The answer,
according to Jung, is not into peace and joy but into true suffering, which
means facing the real early wounds within ourselves and the truth of our
inner contradictions.
The second thing we must do is to value the inhabitants of our
shadows—the parts of ourselves that have been disowned, devalued,
rejected, and repressed. This all starts with some of our most negative
feelings and self-critical voices.
Let me read to you a piece from the New York Times article on The
Red Book that explains what I mean.
“Creating the book also led Jung to reformulate how he worked

with clients, as evidenced by an entry Shamdasani found in a
self-published book written by a former client, in which she
recalls Jung’s advice for processing what went on in the deeper
and sometimes frightening parts of her mind.
‘I should advise you to put it all down as beautifully as you
can—in some beautifully bound book,’ Jung instructed. It will
seem as if you were making the visions banal—but then you
need to do that—then you are freed from the power of them....
Then when these things are in some precious book you can go to
the book and turn over the pages and for you it will be your
church—your cathedral—the silent places of your spirit where
you will find renewal. If anyone tells you that it is morbid or
neurotic and you listen to them—then you will lose your soul—
for in that book is your soul.’”
This is the way Massimilla and I value our own shadows. You might
also want to remember that nothing in our shadow frightens us more than
our own denied and impoverished potentials.

Valuing our negativity? Making it sacred?
1. What do you think of that?
In summary, knowing our shadow is to become aware of the parts of

our personalities that we have repressed or disassociated from in our
development and early adjustment, both good and bad.
Two Paths to Knowing Our Shadows
Two Paths to Knowing Our Shadows

1. Dreams – same sex people in our dreams
a. What are your associations with, or to these people, in specific, or in general if you
don’t know them?
b. What are they doing in your dream? How are they behaving? What do you think
about their character?
c. Are you attracted by them or repelled by them?
d. Are you afraid of them, disgusted by them, etc.?
2. Projections
a. Note the irrational strength of our feeling about someone.

b. Note our difficulty in getting rid of these feelings, passion, the broken heart and so
on.
There are two primary paths that we can follow in looking for our
shadows. The first one is in dreams. Figures who are the same sex as
ourselves represent shadow aspects of ourselves. Let me give you a brief
example.
A few days ago, an analysand told me a dream. It had followed a long
and somewhat controversial discussion he had the previous evening with
his wife. In the dream, he was at a celebration with former President
Clinton. When I asked him what his associations were with President
Clinton, he said that he considered Clinton a completely political animal.
That he could not tell if he truly had any values or not, because he always
seemed to be compromising what he said he believed in, for political
expediency. As he was talking, his face began to change its expression, as
he recognized the dream image in himself, in terms of how he dealt with his
wife.
The second pathway to our shadows that we can follow is in
projections. The irrational strength of our feelings and our inability to get
rid of them alert us to the idea that the projection is our issue, no matter
how justified we feel otherwise. The resentments that keep us from going to
sleep and the arguments that go on and on in our minds illustrate that
projections are at work. In an extreme case, we may see someone who
seems to personify all that is shifty, cowardly, or evasive. They will arouse
in us dislike, animosity, and even fear. We will find it impossible to be fair
with them.
They are unbearable to us because they stand for something within
ourselves which we do not wish to own. They enable us to maintain our
good opinion of ourselves, because the projections carry our rejected, bad
qualities. In some cases, the projections may even carry good qualities—
which, otherwise, we might have to acknowledge as our very own qualities.
Getting to know our shadows is a painful journey because we must
crucify our own opinions of ourselves. The mystics aptly termed this
process the “purification of the Self.” Literature and mythology refer to this
process as a “descent” that requires faith, courage, and usually a guide.
I think that it is probably apparent at this point that the realization of
our shadow compels us to outgrow our parents’ psychology, as well as to
become aware of and outgrow our society’s psychology. Both of these are
closely tied in with our shadow—our parents, our parental homes,
policemen, institutions, and their representatives often show up in our
dreams, in order to help us come to grips with “conventional” attitudes and
values we have internalized.
Detachment
The psychological process of viewing our ego development in relation to
our families’ and society’s psychology, values, and needs is akin to the
mystical process called “detachment.”
Detachment in the mystical process has several levels:
1. Poverty: This means giving up the things that chain our spirits.
In the parable of the “rich young man,” it was not his wealth, but
his attachment to it, that caused Jesus to admonish him to give it
up.
2. Chastity: This means to keep the personality (the soul, in
religious terms) open only to the inner voice of the Self, the
Divine within.
3. Obedience: This means to follow the razor’s edge of the inner
voice and to become strengthened and refined by the conflicts
between that inner voice and conventional values and wisdom.
The next step for the mystics is mortification, which in our Jungian
language is the realization of the shadow. Through mortification we bring
our old personality into the spirit and form of the new, enlarged one. The
interesting point about this kind of work is that it is never over, and it is
always enriching. This is true because the more light we create, the more
shadow we create.
1. Does the process of detachment make sense?
2. Consider this quotation:

“The less I can say, ‘THEY do this, THEY are wrong, THEY must be fought,’ the more I
become a serious problem to myself.”
III. The Jungian Process: Story, Dreams,

Healing and Individuation
In this part of our seminar we are going to look at how important the
concept of story is in Jungian psychology, and how important the idea of
story—our story and the greater story of humanity... and our knowledge of
our story, in particular—is for developing consciousness and for
individuation.
In olden times, we created culture by using stories to give a sense of
form and meaning to life, to give us a sense of the mysteries of life, and to
connect us to those mysteries. Today we tell our children stories to entertain
and to teach them. They, in turn, hunger for the archetypal themes in stories
that connect them to mysteries. The current popularity of the Percy Jackson
books that connect children with the Divine—he is the son of Poseidon and
a mortal woman—and to the hero myth, as the characters in the book
develop and fight evil, is a good example.
All of our great wisdom traditions and religions are made up of stories
that teach. And we are struggling to re-imagine these stories so they can
help inform our lives. Many of us have had the experience that when we
began a relationship as lovers, our intimacy was initiated as we shared our
stories with each other. Stories connect us with each other, with important
values, with patterns of living that give meaning and healing, and they
connect us with the transcendent aspects of life, as well as our deeper
selves. A real story touches the mind, the heart, and the soul.
Yet we are living in a world that is destructive to our experience of
stories. Television gives us disconnected news blips, soap operas, sitcoms,
and reality shows that have no deeper theme, and everything is fragmented
by the insertion of commercials. Talk radio has no story to tell us, as it tries
only to arouse emotions. Or movies such as Avatar turn archetypal themes
into emotional entertainment and rob these themes of their truly
transformative power. This cultural direction has caused us to develop a
resistance to “story” in its more profound forms. The hum of noise, often
referred to as white noise, urges us to want security, the status quo, or to
want to stop the world and get off. The world supports our resistance to
stories, because to pay attention to them takes time.
Questions for Reflection

1. What is your response is to what I have been saying about the importance of story?
2. What are your thoughts about our challenges in this culture to “story” in its more profound
forms?
I began my Jungian experience in the same way that many people

have, by reading Jung’s autobiography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections.
Every time I’ve re-read this book, and I’ve done so many times, I am struck
in my own inner work and in my professional work when Jung writes, on
page 117, “...the patient who comes to us has a story that is not told and
which, as a rule, no one knows of. To my mind, therapy only really begins
after the investigation of that wholly personal story. It is the patient’s secret,
the rock against which he [or she] is shattered.”
Dr. Jung continues, “...the problem is always the whole person, never
the symptom alone. We must ask questions which challenge the whole
personality.” In other words, symptoms arise from this blockage of our
story, and we must discover this story in order to have our life follow a
track of authenticity, meaning, and fulfillment.
Of course, every time I read this passage, I wonder anew what story I
am living, is it my real story or is it a cover story that protects me, helps me
fit in, and makes my life look like it’s working?

1. Am I living in my story?
2. Am I living a cover story?

3. How has this idea of Jung affected you?
4. What feelings came up when I said we have a secret story?
5. What feelings came up when I said that it may be the rock that blocks you or shatters your
hopes and dreams?
Dreams and Story
Every dream is or has a story behind it.

Every complex has a story behind it.
Now I would like to talk about the importance of “story” in our

dreams. In Jungian psychology every dream is a story, or has a story behind
it. And in addition, as we shall see later, every complex has a story behind
it, as well. In order to understand a dream, we try to understand its story and
what it is like for us and the characters in the dream, to be in that particular
story. So, as we look at dreams we look at Classic Dream Structure.
Classic Dream Structure:

1. The opening place and situation, the beginning;
2. The complications, the flow of action, the complications that occur, or the lack of action;
3. The climax of the action, the situation that is a turning point;
4. And finally we look at the result, what has been solved, pointed out or left unsolved.
In other words, we look at the dream from the standpoint of a classic,

dramatic structure. This perspective, the dream as a story, helps its flow of
events make sense. For example, the dream opens and I am in my childhood
home. As I write my associations to the dream, I will write about what it
felt like to be in my childhood home, and I will wonder why or how I am
still in this boyhood situation.
As I go through my dream this way, one sentence or image at a time, I
will be amplifying the dream into a broader story, and I will also become
more personally informed by its story. Dreams remind us to pay attention to
the story of our lives, and they connect us to this story. Dreams with
shadow figures in them are telling us stories about our identities. Dreams
with anima or animus figures are telling us stories about our relationships to
ourselves and others. Dreams with archetypal images in them speak about
destiny, transformation, deep healing, and other soul issues. And, if we
develop almost every dream sufficiently, we will usually come to a deeper
theme, an archetypal pattern.

1. Do you have any thoughts or questions to journal about as you consider dreams as story for
you?
2. Have you had dreams that reminded you to pay attention to the story of your life?
Complexes and Story

Every complex has a story as well...When we know enough about them,
complexes, too, can be put into a story form. In Chapter Three, we will go
into more detail about complexes. In short, a complex situation looks like
this:
When we face an outer situation that activates a complex, it takes over
the decision-making power of our ego. The complex is an energy center
with an archetypal core, which means our ego can rarely overcome the
energetic power of the archetype with insight and/or willpower.
For example, if I had a non-nurturing mother, in times of stress my
negative mother complex will be constellated and I will crave sweets. The
complex overrides the ego and says, “I will have what I need—sweets.”
The ego may say no, but the power of the negative complex is
stronger.
What we must do is accept the complex, and begin an interaction with

it that unfolds its story. By following the seven steps I will outline, this
interaction with the complex enlarges and strengthens the ego and then the
complex becomes transformed, as we uncover and experience the positive
side of the archetype. In this case, we reveal and release our capacity to be
self-nurturing in a deep sense.
Life As Story
If we live life as in a story, then we must remember that our childhood is
not something that was simply good or wounding, but rather it is the
beginning of our story. In that regard, it is like a wellspring that we go back
to, not as a source of pathology, but as a source of new life. Our soul-self is
our full being: body, mind, spirit, symptoms, fear, love, hurt, expectations,
dreams, and fantasy. Many of our problems come when our ego gets scared
and tries to use power to repress and overrule the biddings of our instincts
and the desires of our hearts, or to hide from powerful emotions like fear,
shame, and rage.
Remember that life as story is easier for our ego to comprehend
because our flow of experiences can be seen in the context of a form, a
“structure” that helps make sense of them. It is the limiting or blockage of
our personal stories by ourselves, others, our culture, and the nature of our
environment that has tragic consequences. Our symptoms—physical and
emotional—can show us how our story is limited. The question then
becomes, “Can we change our story, our fate?” The answer is yes. Here are
the following seven steps I want to share with you for changing your story.
7 STEPS for Changing Your Story

1. Make your wounds sacred.
2. Step out of the culture’s plot.
3. Allow a new story to emerge.
4. Participate consciously in your story—become a full actor in it.
5. Accept the creative cycle of life: life—death—rebirth.
6. Follow the soul-contract.
7. Realize the story changes because new influences have come to bear on it.
Wounds as Sacred
The first thing we must do is accept our wounds and the complexes they
caused, and make them sacred by letting our old stories around them die, so
they can become the vehicles through which new stories can emerge.
Beyond Culture’s Plot

Then, we must step out of the limitations imposed on our stories—by the
conventional wisdom of our families and society as well as the fear and
shame these groups use to limit us.
Let New Story Emerge

We must, then, be willing to hold the tension and endure the anxiety while a
new story is trying to emerge.
Participate as Full Actor

We must help this emergence by participating consciously, by becoming a
full actor in our story.
Accept Creative Cycle

And, we must remember the importance of accepting the cycle of life,
death, and rebirth...and realize that we usually experience the death aspect
as conflict, betrayal, and disappointment. This process of accepting the full
creative cycle is countercultural in a society that sells the “good life.”
Follow Soul Contract

Our vehicle for building consciousness and fueling transformation is the
soul-contract and the practices for pursuing the journey, that I discussed
earlier:
1. Engage
2. Reflect
3. Transform consciousness
4. Live the transformation
Realize New Influences

And, finally, we must trust that our story will change because new
influences come to bear on it.
This whole process of Life as Story becomes healing and flows into
our ongoing individuation process. We are then in our own unique story of
self-realization and the expression of the potential person we are meant to
be. For all of this to happen, our ego must become a committed seeker—or
we will continue to be caught in a story that never evolves and is unable to
fully engage in the love and fullness of life.
What I have been telling you is a real distillation of Jungian theory
and very counter-cultural.

1. What questions come up for you as you look as the possibility of changing your story?
IV. Creative Transformation, Love, and

Wholeness
As we come to this final section of this seminar, I have said in many ways
that I am teaching and Jung is teaching us how to have a profound regard
for discovering, nourishing, and preserving our relationship with the Self—
the center of our being, the Divine within us, and the central archetype of
our being.
The Self is also seeking us at the same time, orchestrating our lives
and acting as an inner teacher if we can learn to participate in life on the
symbolic level. The Self puts us on the road to our spiritual quest—which is
to become fully human—puts us on the road to discovering “the truth of our
own reality,” and puts us on the road to discovering the real meaning of
love. If we seek greater consciousness through confronting our experiences
and ourselves, the Self will guide us. And it will transform us, which means
that it will transform our egos by a process of life, death, and renewal, or
what the great German poet Goethe called, “the eternal process of creation,
destruction and re-creation.”
Transformation: Goethe
creation destruction re-creation
From this perspective, it becomes apparent that we have two important

forces in our lives. First is the Self, which is a presence, a force in our lives
that is dynamic, and Jung literally refers to it as God within us or the Divine
within us. And, second, the actual way the Self works, which is a force of
transformation in our lives...a force which works through creation,
destruction, and re-creation. In addition, it is helpful for us to keep in mind
that the Self works on and through our egos—who we think we are, who we
experience ourselves to be—and in our lives.
Two Important Forces in Our Lives

1. The Self
2. The Way of the Self – Transformation
Naturally, our ego wants safety, security, and control, because

otherwise life can be terrifying. So, even when we are seeking
individuation, we are resistant to the Self and fail to realize that the good
life is the enemy of a better one. What this longing for safety means is that
we all want peace of mind, good relationships, spiritual growth, and a
fulfilling life—but we also want to keep our lifestyles and habits, or slightly
improved versions of them, at a minimum expenditure of time and effort.
And even if we dedicate time and effort, we want to grow joyfully and
successfully. In a symbolic sense, we are afraid of the dark. We are afraid of
life and circumstances that we can’t control and have no experience in how
to adapt to.
It is this intrinsic desire in all of us that caused Jung to define God by
saying “To this day God is the name by which I designate all things which
cross my willful path violently and recklessly, all things which upset my
subjective views, plans and intentions and change the course of my life for
better or worse.” (Jung quoted in Ego and Archetype by Edward Edinger, p.
101)
No wonder Dr. Jung was also fond of quoting from Proverbs, “The
beginning of Wisdom is the fear of the Lord.” The workings of the Self will
always upset the way we want to plan, control and envision our lives and
goals. A symbolic life is grounded in the quest for consciousness and is a
life of discovery, trust and deepening as the spiritual life, or the second half
of life, is meant to be. Goals in general are for the first half of life, when we
are building our identities and competencies in relationships and careers. In
the second half of life—the discovery half—even what we are meant to do
or accomplish, as well as the purpose supporting it, must evolve from the
process of discovery—of seeking self-knowledge.
First Half of Life – The Building Half

• Identity
• Competence in relationships
• Competence in career or occupation
Second Half of Life – The Discovery Half

• Learning and discovering turns inward
• Doing evolves from being and discovering
• Becoming more fully human, results from knowing our depths

1. How have these ideas of Jung have affected you?
2. What feelings are coming up in you?
3. Are you surprised in any way?
Other Fears
Now, I believe that there are other fears as well, that make our fear of
transformation or God deeply and even unconsciously intense. They are:
1. The fear of waking up, becoming conscious, and realizing life,
our lifestyle, friends and family aren’t what we thought they
were.
2. The fear of being alone—out of the tribe—old and alone, a bag-
lady—I’ve heard this so many times—or T. S. Eliot’s J. Alfred
Prufrock
3. The fear of losing our self-image and the self-respect we have so
carefully constructed (our persona, success, respect,
trustworthiness, etc.).
4. The fear of being confused, overwhelmed, and unable to cope
with life—which often means we have embraced the illusion that
we have control over our life.
5. The fear of having to cope with or of creating chaos (being out
of control).
6. The fear of being shamed and seen as inferior, sick, or broken
(despite the reality that all new creation comes from chaos and
brokenness).The fear of our demons, desires, shameful or raging
aspects, and that our caged Mr. Hyde or Medea will get out of
control.
7. The fear that our sexuality can become overpowering.

1. Now, do you have any thoughts or feelings to journal about this?
We know from what we have studied so far that Jung’s visionary

intellect and profound spirituality have helped many of us heal by learning
that our wounds actually open the door to a larger reality—a reality which
has been blocked by our one-sided perspective, the point of view we were
indoctrinated into.
Dr. Jung has taught us that real suffering, the suffering we use our
inauthentic or neurotic pain to defend against, will lead us to wisdom and
depth of character. In addition, he teaches us that we unconsciously
pathologize because we no longer know how to mythologize. This means
that we slide into depression, anxiety, despair, and regression because we
have lost the thread of transformation spun by our inner teacher.
Individuation is the road home where we discover the unconscious is also
the home of the Muses and the abode of angels. Seeking self-knowledge
requires commitment and it is hard, but in the long run, suffering and
discouragement can become a doorway to joy, beauty, and life’s glory.
So, in our world of busyness and an approach to life that suffocates the
soul, Jung brings an alternative that is calling us to listen to the voice
within, which as the wise old Jungian woman, Helen Luke, tells us, is a
voice that is also calling us to live with a noble spirit and the courage of a
lion.

1. Now, let me pause for a minute and ask you again what kind of thoughts and feelings are
coming to mind for you?
Phoenix, Moth, and Fire

Now, let us look at images of the Phoenix and the Moth—two archetypal
images. The one thing they have in common is “Fire”—the consuming
flame. To understand what fire means in transformation, we must think
about what it has meant in the human story. We have a hard time imagining
what fire must have meant to primitive people. It was their only light in the
dark...It provided safety against the dangers of the night...It provided the
warmth of life against the cold. To keep the fire or maintain the living coals
when a tribe moved was often a sacred and honored job.
Fire is our greatest image of living awareness, the light of
consciousness in the Human. This was the gift to Humanity, stolen from the
gods, for which both Mantis and Prometheus had to suffer.
In myths and tales, fire represents emotions and passions which can
either burn or spread light. The fire of passion compels one to sacrifice an
attitude that is too cerebral, and also enables one to realize the spirit. In
alchemy, fire indicates one’s participation in the work and is equated with
the passion one gives to the different stages of growth.
Fire is also transformation and purification. It burns away the
impurities. “He has been tested by fire.” The fire of emotions in men and
women [and often in ourselves] sometimes scares us to death. But without
the fire of emotions, no development takes place, and no higher
consciousness can be reached. For this reason God says, “But, because you
are lukewarm, neither hot nor cold, I will spit you out of my mouth.” (Rev.
3:16) If someone is dispassionate about life and does not suffer—if one has
neither the fire of despair nor hatred nor conflict nor love nor annoyance
nor anything of that kind, then that person has little growth and little life.
So, fire, whether it represents the negative conflict, hatred, jealousy, or
any other effect, speeds up the transformation process and is a type of
“judge” that clarifies things. People who have fire may run into trouble and
may suffer despair from the destructive aspects of emotional outbursts, but
at the same time, if that fire is extinguished, all is lost. We can have too
much or too little fire, but make no mistake about it: fire is life itself.

1. Isn’t it frightening to think of the many ways we are taught to smother our fire?
2. Can you name a few?
The Moth
Now, let me say a few more words about the moth, the “butterfly of the
night” that seeks the flame until it is consumed. The shallow interpretation
of this image is that it is the soul seeking the Divine until it is consumed by
mystical love. But this interpretation is inaccurate if we are one of the twice
born, and I will explain that term in a few minutes. We do not need to be
devoured by Divine love, nor do we need for the Divine, in whatever form
you wish to call it, to relate to us as if it is a “good enough” mother
showering its baby with unconditional love. Seeing the Divine in this way
reduces us to helpless infants that, in fact, the Divine has no real or
meaningful need for.
There is a false mystical path, which I refer to as narcissistic
mysticism. It is a path where some people think we can lose ourselves in the
Divine love and transcend this life. That is a false path. Until we are twice
born, however, we will tend to seek a Divine figure or spiritual path that
wraps us in security and love, or detachment and peace.
The true mystical path, like individuation, calls us to transform
through self-knowledge, to follow the path of self-knowledge until it leads
to the Divine, or in psychological terms, the Self. The true mystical path
leads us to become twice born—to know that the Divine’s path of creation
is transformation—and to then become a co-creator of the world with the
Divine.
The moth is relentlessly attracted to the flame as we should be
attracted to life. This attraction should never let up until we know it is time
to relax into death, our final consummation by life. Nikos Kazantzakis, in
his great epic poem, The Odyssey: A Modern Sequel, has Odysseus tell us to
love our fate, build it beyond ourselves, and pursue the adventure and
purpose of our lives until nothing is left unused or unlived at the end and we
have burned our lives into ashes. This is the passion for life that he and
Jung have defined, and they both made it very clear that our love of life
should be constant in life’s darkness and in its light, so that the abundance
of life that we experience will overflow the boundaries of death.
It is very clear to me that Jung’s earlier definition of God—that is,
God as a force moving across our path, a force challenging us to
transformation when it is least expected—is no sentimental God of
motherly love or even fatherly love, for that matter. We will soon see that
love for the twice born is something very different.

1. Before I go on to discuss the twice born, has what I have said about the moth and the flame
and being consumed by a love of life made sense?
Twice Born – Transformation

OK, now let’s get to the discussion of the twice born. Jung uses the term
twice born repeatedly in Volume 5 of the Collected Works, Symbols of
Transformation. By this he means we are born first from our mothers into
our families and cultures. To be twice born means to have accomplished the
first half of life’s tasks, and then having made the inner journey back into
our unconscious—the symbolic mother of our consciousness—in order to
be born again: transformed. Then we are born into a new circle of brothers
and sisters, our mother has become the archetypal depths of the Self and our
family is now humanity. The people who haven’t been twice born are not
fully matured and are driven in some form by personal neediness. They
have a false reaction to the world. They react as a child toward parents:
oversensitive, rebellious, combative, and often sulky, while at the same time
being fearful, demanding love, understanding, and emotional rewards. Such
people behave like their parents did in many cases, or they follow the
customs of our social character because they cannot find their own
character.
In fact, the Self or the unconscious will attempt to “throw up” a person
seeking safety in being unconscious, by living in an illusion of life,
especially the illusion of a good life or a too carefully controlled one, based
upon fear and their parents’ or the culture’s definitions. The Self will often
do this by putting us in situations that require a new heroic response, such
as a depression or an illness.
Please keep in mind here that the true heroic path is to carry the
burden of ourselves and to seek the consciousness that can heal and free us.
The heroic complex, however, is different. It is trying to overcome and
control life by power and expansion. In fact, this complex means a person is
still caught in the “mother”: unconscious dependency needs. Such a person
is approaching life in an adolescent manner, often seeming to be acting out
if you look at him or her closely.
When we try to overcome life with insight, power, and expansion—
which is actually a defense against carrying the real burdens of our life and
becoming twice born—our efforts never fully work in the long term. That’s
because the patterns of our needs and anxieties, and the complexes behind
them, have not been transformed. Anyone who has been chronically
overweight or addicted can testify to this reality.
The twice born have gone through all of the metaphorical struggles of
passing through a gestation and birth process, a process that frees us from
the comforting feelings that call us to regress during times of challenge into
the arms of fear, busyness, conventional wisdom, obligations,
responsibilities, and the religious values, family values, and so on, that can
rescue us from the confrontation with ourselves, our purposes, the meaning
of our lives, and personal destiny.
The development of consciousness through self-knowledge leads to
separation not only from the real mother, the symbolic mother, and the pull
to be unconscious and to sleepwalk through life but also from the father, our
whole family circle, and the power of our instincts.
“Fire making,” Jung says (C. W. 5, p. 211) “is a pre-eminently
conscious act and therefore ‘kills’ the dark state of union with the mother.”
Therefore, we have come full circle here, being sure we are fully engaging
in life, reflecting on our experiences, putting what we learn into action, and
knowing this process creates a life that is fully alive and transforming.

1. Can you hold the tensions between deep values, powerful social obligations, and your
responsibility to the Self?
2. Reflect on the statement:

Who we are doesn’t change – What we are does change.
The Phoenix
This discussion now brings us to the symbol of the Phoenix. From the
ancient accounts given by Herodotus and Plutarch, the Phoenix is a
dramatically beautiful and striking mythological bird that had the power to
be reborn from its own ashes. When the time of its death drew near, it built
a nest of aromatic twigs in which it burned from the heat of its own body.
This process clearly displays the aspects of its symbolism—the cycle of
regeneration, resurrection, and an eternal process of transformation. The
Phoenix, whose fire comes from its own body, in the aromatic nest that it
built, symbolizes the destructive and creative fire that brings transformation
to life through us.
This myth reminds me of the dream of Jacob’s ladder—which came
while he was on a journey—a dream that told him when we are at the top,
we must come down, and when we are at the bottom, we must struggle for a
new beginning. When we find ourselves in a bleak place, when everything
has disintegrated into ashes, we must respond with the creation of fire,
becoming conscious of and open to the Self, or the Divine, catching us in
the “hidden hands” of support that Jung spoke of in Memories, Dreams,
Reflections. As we allow ourselves to be held and our old selves to burn
away, something unexpected emerges and brings a fresh surge of meaning
and inspiration from within, which will help us begin to climb the ladder
again.
So, we have Fire as the archetypal symbol of the intensity of an
engaged life; the Moth as a symbol of our seeking a full engagement with
life and the Phoenix as the symbol of transformation by conscious
participation.
Fire the intensity of an engaged life

Moth seeking full engagement in life
Phoenix being transformed by a conscious
participation in the engagement of life

We have really covered a lot of ground.
1. What kind of thoughts and feelings are you having?
In Summary
The work we have been talking about here is hard on the surface. It is
difficult to hear that to want unconditional love, acceptance, and
understanding—which never means that care and tenderness must be lost—
can be seen as a regression to the unconscious as a child. It almost sounds
brutal. But, we have to keep in mind that in his book Ego and Archetype:
Individuation and the Religious Function of the Psyche, the analyst Edward
Edinger uses the crucifixion as a metaphor for the transformation of the
ego. And yet, Jung says that we can depend upon the hidden hands of the
Self to support us when everything else has failed us. This seems like a
contradiction. However, Jung also goes on to say in C.W. 11, Answer to
Job, that: “It is quite right, therefore, that fear of God should be considered
the beginning of all wisdom. On the other hand, the much-vaunted
goodness, love, and justice of God should not be regarded as mere
propitiation [a pleasing statement], but should be recognized as a genuine
experience, for God is a coincidentia oppositorum. Both are justified, the
fear of God as well as the love of God.”
Therefore, we can depend upon the love of God or the Self, not to
rescue us or give us what we want, but to move us challengingly and
creatively toward wholeness. And, if our love of life is passionate, we can
depend upon our “depths” for support, especially when our ego is
overwhelmed. But, this doesn’t mean we should regress into childhood
dependency and the unconscious acceptance of life.
Until we have confronted our shadow, pursued the inner journey, and
become twice born, our efforts at love will reflect needy psychological
pursuits, idealistic fantasies, or sentimental hopes. But, if we are seeking
self-knowledge, we will discover that the Self is working, even through
these events, as an inner teacher seeking to heal and bring wholeness to us.
I would like to close with my favorite page in Jung’s writing, the final
page in the chapter titled, “Late Thoughts” in Memories, Dreams,
Reflections. Jung says:
For we are in the deepest sense the victims and the instruments
of cosmogonic “love.” I put the word in quotation marks to
indicate that I do not use it in its connotations of desiring,
preferring, favoring, wishing, and similar feelings, but as
something superior to the individual, a unified and undivided
whole. Being a part, man cannot grasp the whole. He is at its
mercy. He may assent to it, or rebel against it; but he is always
caught up by it and enclosed within it. He is dependent upon it
and is sustained by it. Love is his light and his darkness, whose
end he cannot see. “Love ceases not”—whether he speaks with
the “tongues of angels,” or with scientific exactitude traces the
life of the cell down to its uttermost source. Man can try to name
love, showering upon it all the names at his command, and still
he will involve himself in endless self-deceptions. If he possesses
a grain of wisdom, he will lay down his arms and name the
unknown by the more unknown, ignotum per ignotius—that is,
by the name of God. That is a confession of his subjection, his
imperfection, and his dependence; but at the same time a
testimony to his freedom to choose between truth and error.
PART TWO
“The fear of complexes is a rooted prejudice, for the superstitious fear of anything unfavorable has
remained untouched by our vaunted enlightenment. This fear provokes violent resistance whenever
complexes are examined, and considerable determination is needed to overcome it.”
– C. G. JUNG, C. W. VOL. 8, PAR. 211
“The fundamental task of the complex is to serve as a vehicle and vessel of transformation, whereby
the archetypal essence is brought into living reality. The complex brings archetypal core and
personal experience to bear on each other, uniting them in the flow of psychic life.”
– E. SHALIT, THE COMPLEX, P. 68
“In Jung’s view, suffering in human life is never an illness as such; rather, it presents the opposite
pole to happiness, and the one is unthinkable without the other. A complex becomes pathogenic only
when it is repressed, suppressed, or denied in that we think that we don’t have it. A complex turns
into a negative and disruptive element in the psyche only due to the ego-complex’s insufficient
capacity to face it.”
– HANS DIECKMANN, COMPLEXES, P. 3
“As events in wartime have clearly shown, our mentality is distinguished by the shameless naiveté
with which we judge our enemy, and in the judgment we pronounce upon him we unwittingly reveal
our own defects: we simply accuse our enemy of our own unadmitted faults.”
– C. G. JUNG, C. W. VOL. 8, PAR. 516

Chapter 3 : Lecture
A LIFETIME OF PROMISE:
A Jungian Guide to Discovering the Transformative
Power in Complexes
The Character of Complexes

Whenever we begin to study complexes, a lot of emotion and history can
become stirred up in us. So, I am going to ask you to fasten your seat belts
and to remember Captain Kirk’s words whenever a Klingon Battlecruiser
began to fire on the Starship Enterprise: “Full power to the shields, Mr.
Scott.” So, let us begin...
In the same way that atoms and molecules are the invisible
components of physical objects, complexes are the building blocks of our
psychic structure, and the source of our emotional energy. When complexes
are realized and integrated, they become the architecture of a fulfilled life.
Like the stone the builder rejected, our most devilish and frustrating
complexes hold the most promise for expanding our personalities and our
lives. These are the kind of complexes we will focus on in this lecture and
then in the seminar. Each one of these complexes can be very destructive
and drain our energy as we defend against them like a chronic illness. They
disrupt our relationship with ourselves, destroy our self-esteem, and erode
the nature of our relationships.
But each of these complexes also holds an inspiring challenge and the
promise of transformation—the potential of a greater experience of life.
Learning how to discover this challenge and unleash the transformative
power in a complex renews our energy, reconnects us to its source, and
enables this transformed complex to become the cornerstone in the new
design of a more creative life.
Now I would like to tell you a story of one of my encounters with a
complex and how the story worked out. As I am talking, keep in mind that
true humility comes from confronting our shadows—those things we have
repressed that are threatening to our identity, our sense of safety, and our
self-respect—and that our shadow is made up of complexes.
With that in mind, I’ve titled my story, “Complexes are Humbling.”
The story begins when Brian, a man in his mid-forties came in for his
analytic session. Brian had been working with me for several years and his
individuation process had led him into a sense of vocation, a loving family
life, and financial success. As Brian sat down, he mentioned that he and his
wife had lunch over the weekend with several friends who were also, or had
been, in analysis with me. I wasn’t too surprised because after all I do live
in a small town.
Brian said that at one point the conversation had turned to Jung, the
journey of individuation, and then to me. “Wade said,” Brian continued,
“‘Bud has a unique way of putting his arm around your shoulder and
kicking your rear end at the same time.’”
Then with a smile, Brian said, “And I added, ‘Putting his hand in your
pocket at the same time.’” I was stunned at this comment. Then I could feel
my anger beginning to surge. But, you see, that I also know from the
intensity of my reaction that a complex had been touched—or constellated
in Jungian terms—which means the intense concentration of emotions in
the complex had been aroused. It’s like someone has bumped an infected
wound very hard.
Realizing a complex had been hit, I was able to compartmentalize it
and keep my professional persona intact. That night, in my journal, I was
able to work with this experience in the way I will outline for you in a few
minutes, and develop further in the seminar. That night was also the
beginning of this lecture.
Even in the moment, I knew if I had reacted angrily or confronted
Brian’s statement as being passive-aggressive, untrue, or even a projection
or part of the transference, I would have aborted the potential growth in this
situation for both of us.
Now don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mean that legitimate anger
should be avoided. I mean that we need to know ourselves well enough to
tell if our intense feelings are legitimate or are coming from a complex.
Journaling that evening I began to uncover the potentials for growth. Here
is a synopsis of that part of my inner work:
1. For years I secretly resented paying for analysis—until I went to
Zurich and realized how priceless this experience of self-
discovery really is and how it was revolutionizing my life. Why
did I resent paying for something priceless? The answers are:
a. Pride—I didn’t want to admit I was so wounded and
screwed up that I couldn’t achieve this kind of life on my
own. (Nor can most people.)
b. I was cheap. I had a huge cheap/scarcity complex that I
kept hidden deep in my shadow while taking big risks in
business and in my life, especially financial risks.
2. This complex hurt me tangibly—cheap clothes, putting off
doctor and dentist visits, and having compensatory spending
sprees at times—expensive vacations, etc.
3. It hurt my wife—I unconsciously gave off the feeling that she
didn’t contribute enough—this hampered our efforts at intimacy,
distanced us, and devalued her.
4. It hurt my children as well. I devalued them and their wants and
needs, in small ways, often with passive aggressive remarks—
which really means cruel remarks.
As you can see, if you begin to really work on your
complexes you can’t avoid humility. It becomes real. And finally,
5. I didn’t want to give my analyst the appreciation he or she
deserved or to think that “I” might have a transference.
Reflecting on these issues and complexes led me back to some older
and deeper ones that I have worked with for years, such as “I am alone,” “I
have to do it all myself,” and “I can trust and rely on only myself.” From
the progression in my work you can see that complexes are interlinked.
They do not stand alone. Each one has a family tree, so to speak.
At this point I decided that it was time to talk with Brian about his
statement and my reaction. In practice, I share these kinds of things very
carefully, after giving them a lot of thought. In this case, I felt that Brian
had the ego strength to hear me and that he shared some of the same
complexes.
As we sat down in his next session, I reminded him of our previous
conversation and he actually responded that, “I thought about what I said
later and realized it wasn’t very nice.” I went on to share how I worked with
my complex and essentially what I have just told you. While I was going
over my list of complexes, Brian became very quiet. When I finished there
were several moments of silence. Slowly he said, “I can identify with
everything you said. We’ve got some work to do.” Brian was right. We had
some work to do. And, it’s helpful if we know a few things before we
begin.
What is a Complex?
I think most of us would like to know more about what a complex is, what
it does, how we spot it, and then what are the steps we need to take to
integrate it into our personality. And this is how I’m going to proceed,
beginning with the question—what is a complex. Our complexes come
from our deepest human experiences. They begin with how we experience
our mother and father. They are formed by the emotional encounters that
shape us, usually or most notably the negative and traumatic ones, because
growing up is always difficult and a struggle even in the best of
circumstances.
If we simply look at the psychoanalyst Erik Erickson’s developmental
phases, we see that each one of them is marked by a crisis. The names he
has given these crises tell us of their intense and dramatic nature—for
example, basic trust versus basic mistrust; autonomy versus shame and
doubt; initiative versus guilt; industry versus inferiority; identity versus
identity confusion; and intimacy versus isolation. Every step in growing up
presents a major challenge and the potential of a trauma that can cause a
whole village of complexes to develop. Many of these complexes form to
protect our vulnerable child-self from shame, guilt, trauma, fear, or some
other overwhelming emotion. Complexes can also result from injunctions
like “Don’t be stupid. Do it yourself. Please your parents. Please your
teachers.” And this doesn’t even get us into the big stuff like violence,
abuse, illness, loss of a parent, or having disturbed parents.
Complexes that will affect our lives generally have to do with
relationships. The way others respond to us, as we grow up, shapes our
view of ourselves and the world. Once we awaken to a complex, we face a
task—a journey—yet this journey isn’t back to normal, for in Jungian terms
there is also a promise. The promise of the journey is to have an enlarged
life of increased empowerment and authenticity; and if this complex is a
central or dominant one—a destiny. If you read my first book, now re-titled
The Resurrection of the Unicorn: Masculinity in the 21st Century, you can
see behind the pages, my personal story of working through my mother
complex and then into the full meaning of being a man.
The promise in a complex comes from its archetypal foundation.
Archetypes are the psychological blueprints in our makeup for how our
experiences and emotions can be channeled. Let me read to you what Jung
says about the archetypes in his essay, “The Significance of the Father in
the Destiny of the Individual.” (C.W. 4)
Man “possesses” many things which he has never acquired but

has inherited from his ancestors. He is not born a tabula rasa, he
is merely born unconscious. But he brings with him systems that
are organized and ready to function in a specifically human way,
and these he owes to millions of years of human development.
Just as the migratory and nest-building instincts of birds were
never learnt or acquired individually, man brings with him at
birth the ground-plan of his nature, and not only of his individual
nature but of his collective nature. These inherited systems
correspond to the human situations that have existed since
primeval times: youth and old age, birth and death, sons and
daughters, fathers and mothers, mating, and so on. Only the
individual consciousness experiences these things for the first
time, but not the bodily system and the unconscious...
I have called this congenital and pre-existent instinctual
model, or pattern of behaviour, the archetype.
Archetypes are like hidden magnets in our psyche that attract and
pattern our experiences and emotions. For example, if my father is
bombastic, aggressive and shames me for being timid and quiet, I will find
my emotions defensively patterned by fear into withdrawal, and the
reluctance to express myself. On a deeper level, I will have anger and
resentment for his failure to value and understand me. I will have developed
a negative father complex. That complex will flood me with fear, confusion,
anger and resentment whenever I encounter a bombastic or aggressive
authority figure.
But every archetypal image has two poles. The negative father has its
opposite, the positive father. The unrealized potential of the opposite pole
offers the possibility for growth and transformation. The complex provides
the link between the archetypal potential and our ego (our sense of who we
are). In other words, when we do the work of integrating a complex, who
we think we are is radically transformed. Our ego, our personality has
found new strength and emotional balance. We will begin looking at how to
integrate a complex in Part B of the lecture.
In summary, a complex is a storehouse for the intense personal
emotions we experienced around an event or series of events that are
connected to a typical pattern of development or activity in our personality.
The complex will cause us to act in ways that protect us from these
emotions. Its potential for growth lies in its call to us to heal our past,
release the energy the complex is costing us and experience the new growth
that is now possible.
What Does a Complex Do?

Next let us ask ourselves: What does a complex do? Actually, we all have
some familiarity with complexes and what they do. Haven’t we heard of
and even used terms like an inferiority complex, a superiority complex, and
haven’t we had a relative who tried to manipulate us with their victim
complex? Power complexes are notable in bosses, colleagues, and
organizations. We’ve heard of messianic complexes, mother complexes,
father complexes, and so on, until the word has become fairly common.
What this familiarity means is that a complex can have enough power to
take over someone’s personality or our own, to the point that it becomes
apparent to everyone except the person who has it. And, when it has done
this to us, it determines our worldview, our emotional responses, and how
we feel about ourselves.
Let’s look at a couple of typical examples. A man with a negative
mother complex will tend to feel criticized whenever women do anything
other than praise him. He, of course, has this inner witch that is criticizing
him constantly or making him think he is living the wrong life. This
complex keeps his masculinity in a weak position and hinders his ability to
initiate his life relationships and healthy confrontations. He fears being
devoured by the feminine and will often project this complex onto women
and then fail to see them as who they really are, and fail to protect his
boundaries appropriately.
The woman with a negative mother complex will feel that she is an
awful person in a rejecting world. She may seek out soft or wounded males
who appear to have “good mothering qualities” such as appearing nurturing,
accepting, and sensitive. An inner voice of fear, anxiety, and distrust as well
as the feeling she has no right to exist will remind her constantly of how
hard she needs to strive to earn love; and even then it is unlikely to come or
to be trustworthy. And, she will try to control what happens around her.
These two examples are greatly oversimplified, but are common
enough that we can understand them. The man’s inner witch and the
woman’s inner tyrant are complexes that will drain their energy, self-
confidence, and relations like a chronic disease.
When one of these complexes is activated, we become very defensive.
The complex crowds everything else into the background. It inhibits all
other ideas, and shapes everything going on to fit its perspective. It pushes
any thoughts or feelings that run counter to it into the unconscious.
In our ordinary experience, the feeling of being taken over by a
complex is often referred to as “I was beside myself” or “I don’t know what
got into me.” But, if the complex is strong enough, we will be absolutely
convinced of the rightness of our position and will find endless arguments
to support it.
Frequently these arguments may simply be within ourselves. If,
because of the early wounds in our formative years, we over-identify with
the need for safety, which means control and often power, and have a self-
concept based on achievement, we may feel like we can’t slow down, we
can’t stop driving ourselves. Actually, these are complexes that our society
supports. But they create the kind of stress that can destroy our health, as
can any complex that demands perfectionism. In many cases our choices
are either to become the victim of our complexes or to wake up to them and
learn how to integrate them.
In summary, a negative complex can momentarily put our life off track
and embarrass us, or become an increasing source of neurosis, or if it is
strong enough and repressed forcefully enough, it can impair or even
destroy our health.
We have covered a lot of ground in a few minutes. I began with the
story of my experience of a complex. Then I went on to answer the
questions, “What is a complex? And what does a complex do?”
And I will talk about how we spot these complexes in the next section.
The only thing I would like to add at this point is the worst shape we can be
in, is to think we don’t have any complexes, or only a few. This kind of
unconscious naiveté or denial simply means that our complexes have us,
and we have lost touch with our potentials for growth and transformation.

1. As I have talked about my experience of a complex, what kind of thoughts, memories, and
questions came to mind for you?
2. What are some of your questions about the emotions complexes arouse in our lives?
3. What kinds of thoughts and feelings came up in my discussion of complexes draining our
energy like a chronic illness?
4. What do you think about my statement that if we think we don’t have any complexes then
they have us?
The Heroic Journey Out of Cultural Complexes

and Into Self-Acceptance
How do we spot these complexes?
I promised in the last section to discuss how we can identify these
complexes. I have already said and most of you already know that we—and
that means our egos—are not in complete charge of our lives. There are a
number of moods that can sweep over us—things we have been conditioned
into and forces that drive us. Whether we sneak food, have too many
glasses of wine every night, snap at our partners or co-workers or scream at
our kids, we find ourselves doing things we wouldn’t choose to do.
Complicated bundles of feelings lurk in the complexes we work so hard to
overcome or repress. When they are touched, they leap out at our ego like a
troll who has hidden under a bridge, and thwart our best intentions and
activities.
Complexes have symptoms and we can learn to look out for these
symptoms. Major complex symptoms are often shown in our moods or
emotional overreactions. I knew at once that my anger at Brian’s remark
was an overreaction to the reality of the situation. An excess of hurt, fear,
anger, or even a bad or sulky mood is the mark of a complex. So is the
absence of hurt, fear, or anger, when such feelings should be appropriate. A
combination of being excessively angry and judgmental is the sure sign of a
complex.
Chronic emotional problems such as anxiety, depression, jealousy,
envy, and addictions are usually signs that we are repressing a serious
complex. Physical problems, weight problems, and other such things are the
signs we have repressed a complex with such force that the complex has
gone into our bodies.
One of our favorite defenses is to project our complex onto someone
else. As long as we keep our consciousness limited, we can more easily
confuse our inner and outer worlds. It is much easier, for example, for a
man to project his inner witch onto his partner or female boss than to
confront her as part of himself; or for a woman to project her inner tyrant
onto the culture, her partner, or boss. The more unconscious we are, the
more we use our own inner material to “create” the characters of the people
around us. Of course, projection can become a gold mine for developing
self-knowledge, though such mining is painful and humbling.
Journaling, reflecting on our feelings and relationships throughout the
day and the moods they left us in, helps us discover complexes. So do
dreams. The figures that threaten us, pursue us, ignore us, or even the ones
that just show up can be picturing a complex that can expand our
personhood. A few sessions after I had talked with Brian and he had tackled
a couple of new complexes he said, “Damn, this is really hard work. I can
see why Scott Peck opened his book, The Road Less Traveled, with the
statement, ‘Life is difficult,’ and then said, ‘Many are called, few are
chosen, and they are dragged through the door kicking and screaming.’”
Brian is right. Real change doesn’t take a little bit of time; it takes a lot
of time. And, it doesn’t take a little bit of work, it takes a lot of work. But,
Scott Peck had read enough of Jung to realize the promise in our
difficulties, and that the second half of life is a special time. It is a time of
great opportunity, emotionally, spiritually, and collectively—a time for love
to grow beyond our needy wounds and sentimental ideals—beyond our
complexes—and to flourish.
There are few journeys in our life that fit Joseph Campbell’s
description of the hero’s or heroine’s journey more accurately than
confronting and integrating our complexes. Whether a complex is big or
small, confronting it calls for a complete reorientation of our consciousness.
This means that we must be willing to give up our present system of ideals,
virtues, goals, and formerly successful ways of dealing with our problems,
instead of working to make this old system stronger.
For Brian, this also meant that he had to give up the secret hope that
had fueled his initial desire to begin his inner work. This was the hope of
leading a beautiful, self-actualized life that had previously seemed to be
constantly eluding him. Life, it seemed, had been continually throwing
roadblocks in his way. In fact, Brian, like many of us, myself included, had
wanted to live an “ego-ideal” that compensated for his earlier woundings,
secret feelings of inferiority, and longings.
I’ll share with you how one of my own complexes became clear to me.
For years, maybe decades, I had fantasized about having a Porsche. Then
one day I thought I might finally be able to buy one. On the showroom floor
was a sleek black Targa, my dream car. I opened the door, smelled the rich
leather, and slipped into the driver’s seat. Damn! My fantasies crashed to
the ground. It was small and cramped and I was eye level with the top of the
windshield. When I was forced by fate to think about the symbolic meaning
of the Porsche, I realized that for years a negative father complex had
caused me to remain hidden within myself, carefully calculating how much
of me it was safe to let the world see. The Porsche was a compensatory
fantasy from the unconscious that showed an inner desire to move around in
the world with power and agility, and to be noticed.
My Self, like Brian’s Self, which we both had been out of touch with,
had a bigger story in mind for us. But, this story included a series of night-
sea journeys into several complexes. In an interesting turn of events, once
Brian had worked through some of the complexes that were causing him to
long for a beautiful self-actualized life, he discovered his profession was
really his vocation.
With that realization, he was able to set aside his complaints about
having to work so hard, which like most of us he had blamed on other
people and having to make so much money. Then he was able to find
pleasure in the pursuit of creativity and excellence in his vocation. Instead
of being a burden that drove him, his work became a fulfillment.
It is our complexes that carry our wounds and our wounds are our
calls to transformation. In a way, our complexes are our wounds as well,
and if we defend against them too forcefully, they turn against us and
cripple us. There was a time in my early adulthood when I made it a point
to appear capable and competent and to avoid anything that might appear
like self-pity. Then I had a dream that I remember today, over forty years
later, like it came yesterday.
In the dream, I was eight years old. I was standing next to a bicycle
my father had repaired and given to me for Christmas. In actuality, I had
been ashamed that we couldn’t afford a new one. I was on the campus of
the private school my grandfather had founded. I couldn’t ride the bike or
even push it because I had a cast on my leg that went from the top of my
thigh down to my foot.
As long as my ego’s coping skills were intact, my childhood
vulnerability had remained repressed. But, once transformation began my
unconscious was reminding me that a healing journey was needed to secure
the foundation for later growth.
This is a hero’s journey because it takes me into the dark night on a
sea of emotions where my most treasured competencies can’t be used
because they were part of how I mastered the outer world, and now I had to
face the inner one. That’s where Campbell tells us the real hero’s or
heroine’s journey must be, even though it will bring us back into the outer
world, in a renewed form.
In a certain sense, Brian and I—for as you heard I too am on this
journey—have to face our fear of death. For the fear of death is about the
fear of change, or the fear of growing up, or the fear of becoming
independent of the claims of the material world, or a fear of questioning the
responsibilities and obligations we have used to define ourselves.
When I had my dream, I was facing a major life decision about
whether to leave the corporate world and start my own business, as
something inside of me was compelling me to do. My fantasies of outer
success were met by their image of vulnerability and the need for healing
from my unconscious. Campbell tells us that our calls often begin with
something ugly, just like in a fairy tale—a frog, a wizened old woman, a
dragon, a dwarf, or a robber. Our wounds, mistakes, and symptoms are
pictured this way, in story form. Our complexes cause ripples on the surface
of our lives, produced by the unsuspected springs of an archetype that
maybe as deep as the soul itself.
Giving up our complexes is often difficult because as long as we have
them, we can repress other things—like facing ourselves and owning our
potentials—and find excuses for not wishing to change. Our complexes
become a prop, and as long as we can fight them, we can, in Campbell’s
words, refuse the call and maintain the status quo, which will, in his words,
eventually create a wasteland in our lives where our heart should be
flourishing.
There is a second way to refuse the call that I actually learned in my
early training in humanistic and Gestalt psychology. That was to think I had
a breakthrough, to feel the release of tension, and to then think, “I’m back
in control, I understand the blockage or problem. Now everything is going
to work out, and I’m going to feel good.” A breakthrough insight is not the
end; it is the beginning because, Jung reminds us, we then have a moral
duty to live it, and that is a journey.
We can compound this mistake when we name our complexes in
overly simplistic ways such as, “that’s my money complex,” “that’s my
negative father speaking,” “that’s my mother complex” and so on. Naming
a complex can be important but it can also be a defense. We must not fall
into the typical shadow defense of our culture’s scientific complex which is
to think that to name something means we have some control over it. I’ve
heard many, many people say something like, “that’s my money complex—
but, I’m doing better at it,” or “that’s my critical mother—but I’m doing
better than I used to.” This approach is missing the point of healing and
transformation. It is simply causing a new inner battle on a different level. It
continues to split us against ourselves, rather than helping us find
wholeness and solidity.
This error reflects a cultural complex which is that we are taught to
live our lives according to the ways of Mars, the god of war and not the
ways of Eros, the god of love and relationships. Our society teaches us that
war is the way. We declare war on poverty, drugs, cancer, our weight, in
fact on whatever symptoms are giving us the most trouble. We declare war
on ourselves in this process. And, as far as I can see in my lifetime we
rarely, if ever, win these wars.
Why don’t we ever win some of these wars, we might wonder? Well,
let me suggest an answer on the personal level, because as you know, Jung
thought that in today’s world that’s where change must start. Most of the
complexes that really trouble us come from problems in Eros, those related
to love and relationships. They are wounds of the lack of love, the lack of
understanding and personal concern, the lack of affirmation in childhood,
and these events founded our complexes. Even wounds of fate, like my
mother’s death when I was a child, which was a trauma, brought a wound of
Eros because one of its major sources was lost, I was abandoned.
Abuse is a betrayal of Eros. There are, of course, many more than I
have named. The point I want to make is that you cannot heal wounds to
Eros with the techniques of Mars: aggression, suppression and control. Yet
that is what we try to do. We want to overcome, defeat our complexes.
The analyst Erel Shalit in his book, Enemy, Cripple and Beggar:
Shadows in the Hero’s Path tells us that to engage in Eros is to “...
recognize and accept, contain and relate to the inferior and suffering side of
ourselves. Likewise the capacity to experience internal pain is crucial to our
ability to relate, inwardly as well as to others.” When Jung was
corresponding with Bill Wilson, a cofounder of Alcoholics Anonymous, he
said that “Spiritus contra Spiritus” was needed for healing. For healing and
transforming our complexes I believe we need “Eros contra Eros.”
Jolande Jacobi was one of the first Jungian analysts to write a book on
complexes. In Complex/Archetype/Symbol, she says that we—that is, our
egos—have four different approaches to dealing with a complex: The first
one is to remain totally unconscious of its existence; the second one is to
identify with it—this means that when it takes over we have no choice but
to identify with it—it becomes the “I”; the third one is projection, which I
have discussed already; and, fourth, is confrontation.
In my way of thinking, confrontation means realizing that we have a
complex and that we have to wake up and begin the journey of transforming
it. And that journey means going from confrontation to Eros, working in
partnership with ourselves instead of being split against ourselves.
As I was working with Margaret, a woman whose story I tell in my
book Sacred Selfishness, she came upon a troubling complex and didn’t
want to continue pursuing it. Then, on her next visit she came in and told
me she had a dream the night after we had talked. In the dream, she was
lying asleep under the water in a shallow pond. The night was bright with
moonlight and her cat was sleeping beside her. “Damn” she said, “I’m
going to lie there and drown and let my cat drown with me, in water that
would hardly come up to my knees. I’ve got to wake up and get moving or
we are going to die.” Once we have awakened, we are ready for the journey.
How do we start the journey?

Before beginning I want to remind you what Joseph Campbell says about it,
because I love this saying and it has sustained me for decades. Campbell
says:
...we have not even to risk the adventure alone; for the Heroes of
all time have gone before us; the labyrinth is thoroughly known;
we have only to follow the thread of the hero-path. And where
we had thought to find an abomination, we shall find a god;
where we had thought to slay another, we shall slay ourselves;
where we had thought to travel outward, we shall come to the
center of our own existence; where we had thought to be alone,
we shall be with all the world.
We are called to confront our complexes by our circumstances,

frustration, and suffering, and by our desire for a more fulfilling and
complete life. It is very helpful if we know that people have traveled the
path before us, that we don’t have to plunge blindly into the unknown. And
even though our path must be unique, we are guided by a chart but not a
rigidified doctrine.
We have some legitimate questions as we begin. What will we
encounter? How do we strengthen ourselves for the struggle and the pain?
What will the pain be like? What are our alternatives? Is there a chart for
the territory? What is the reward? Each complex we integrate releases new
energy, broadens and strengthens our personality, adds to our wholeness,
and affects the world in the new way we relate to everyone around us. And
we have refined, through new inner clarity, our ability to see reality in a
more accurate way.
In terms of charting the territory I have put together seven steps for
transforming a complex. I want to briefly mention all seven of them, and
then I will examine them one at a time. They combine eros and
transformation and lead us to use our aggression in the service of wholeness
rather than against a part of ourselves.
STEP ONE in transforming a complex is to accept it.

STEP TWO is to amplify it.
STEP THREE is to write a history of it.
STEP FOUR is to give it a name and/or create an image that
symbolizes it.
STEP FIVE is to examine how it affects the events in our lives every
day.
STEP SIX is to use active imagination to dialog with it. And,
STEP SEVEN is to have a special section or box in your journal to
remind you of it daily.
The first step, acceptance, is where Eros contra Eros is the turning
point. Accepting it doesn’t mean loving it or embracing it. After all, the
princess didn’t embrace the frog. She very reluctantly kissed it. And, a kiss
is a transformative act in fairy tales.
If we need to cure, fight, defeat, or overcome a symptom or some
attitude or characteristic, we have made our complex into an enemy and are
losing the teleological value of it—the potentials to which the complex can
guide us. Of course, this perspective is counter-cultural. It negates our ideas
of control, rationality, and curing as well as, to some extent, the notion of
alleviating human misery. But if, for example, Margaret makes an enemy of
the depression that was coming from her complex, she gives it power. The
43rd hexagram in the I Ching, “Breakthrough or Resoluteness” notes, “If
evil is branded, it thinks of weapons, and if we do it the favor of fighting
against it, blow for blow, we lose in the end, because then we ourselves get
entangled in the hatred and passion.” Or, in other words, we develop a war
within ourselves, against ourselves.
When Margaret takes the Jungian position, she immediately gains a
certain amount of distance and separation from her depression. It becomes
what we call “Not-I.” She has differentiated from it. It can no longer
possess her totally whenever it is constellated. This separation opens a
number of doors: We can relate to the complex differently. We can seek to
understand it from the inside. We can learn how it may want us to change
our lives in order for us to increase our wholeness.
Taking the Jungian position doesn’t mean that we abandon our
capacity for being aggressive. If we abandon Mars, then we have to repress
him and that creates a hell of a complex. What we must do is hold our
capacity for aggression in abeyance until we can make a conscious choice
whether to declare war or not. We may end up needing to struggle with
some inner aspects of ourselves. But we want to be sure we are working in
a way that is constructive, that stands for, and if possible, facilitates growth
and transformation. This approach strengthens us, empowers us, eventually
inviting wisdom and compassion and deepening our humanity.
Our goal is to transform how we use our energy. We want our work to
end up enlivening us, not draining us like the complex did. Warfare takes a
lot of resources and should be chosen very carefully. Jung is emphatic that
nothing can be transformed until it is accepted. And, this acceptance of
ourselves is absolutely necessary to become whole and to be able to nurture,
support, and work in partnership with ourselves.

We have covered a lot of ideas. I think it is time for us to stop and have some questions and
discussion.
1. Did this material bring up any fantasies, feelings, ideas, or questions for you?
2. To what use can you put some of these ideas?
3. What do you feel about using Eros contra Eros in dealing with yourself? Think about what
complex stands in your way.
4. What are some of your responses to our societal complexes of getting it right, doing it
myself, i.e. individualism, and attacking everything rationally?
Journey Into Depth

The session right after I had gone over the seven steps for transforming a
complex with Margaret, she came into my office and sat down briefly.
“Boy, are you tricky,” she said, “You tricked me good.” “What do you
mean?” I answered. “Well,” she said, “I’ve been working on these steps all
week; it’s been hard and challenging, but I’ve opened up a lot. Then I
realized that if I’m spending this much time and energy on my life, I really
am valuing myself.” “Imagine that,” I thought to myself, “and I wasn’t even
trying to be tricky.”
Let’s continue to look at STEP ONE. When we learn to accept the
things within us that we feel are truly repulsive or even dangerous to our
well-being or self-image, such as selfishness, arrogance, rage, anger,
aggression, lust, self-loathing, grief, inauthenticness—things that might
make others (especially those close to us) dislike us or disapprove of us or
things that we fear may make us despise ourselves—we both open and
strengthen our personality.
Acceptance doesn’t mean we act on these impulses. We own the
ability to experience them, and act on them if we consciously choose to.
This opening gives us the strength of personality to then experience the
other side of these characteristics, such as love and compassion, in a truly
genuine fashion. It will also help us genuinely love and have compassion
with ourselves.
Usually when I’m in the throes of working with a complex, I find
myself awake in the middle of the night, furious or occasionally in despair
—more often furious—and unable to sleep, and the first thing I usually do
is project the whole conflict onto my wife and think of a number of great
reasons for being angry at her, hurt with her, feeling slighted by her—and
all having nothing whatsoever to do with her. At least I’ve learned that
much. Next, I used to go on to my analyst and think of all the ways he or
she misunderstood me, didn’t see I was right, didn’t value my pain
sufficiently, and was betraying me. Now I have the capacity to go on a long
way with this line of thinking, or rather projecting—sometimes to relatives,
friends, or long-dead parents, uncles, and aunts. And while the seeds of
some of my imaginings may not be wrong, the way I am pursuing these
thoughts is.
That is where STEP TWO, amplifying what’s going on within me,
becomes important. What I mean by amplify is to write down everything
that comes to mind about this complex, including all the irrational feelings,
with no censorship. This step is akin to what Julia Cameron calls “Morning
Pages” in The Artist’s Way, except that I do it whenever a complex is
seizing me or I am working on one. I write down everything I’m feeling
about my wife, analyst, or whomever, in just the way it comes. This cleans
the sludge out of my psyche, distances me from the feelings, because they
are out of my mind and concretely expressed on paper. This procedure
allows me to get a more objective perspective on what I’m feeling and
better insight into where it’s coming from.
In writing about her compulsive eating, at one point Margaret wrote,
“This sneaky complex allows me to secretly nourish myself no matter what.
It comes quickly and is very intense. It puts my needs first. If it tastes good,
eat it. If you’re hungry, eat. If you’re mad, eat. If you’re lonely, eat. If you
are sad, eat. If you are frustrated, eat. Nobody has to see you. If you want it,
have it...‘Oh, Oh’.”
There are two important points in this step of amplification. First, no
censorship. And, second, don’t share any of this with anyone except your
analyst. No fair dumping this on a friend or partner. That is really just trying
to pass the feelings of your complex on to them. For real transformation we
need to hold and contain the tension in our own process.
STEP THREE is to write a history of this complex. Go back as far as
you can remember with it. Is it a family complex, a complex in the culture
you grew up in? Did it come to you through one of your parents? Is it truly
yours—that is, based on your wounding—or is it one you inherited because
someone passed it on instead of working it out? What were the early
emotions around the early wound? What kind of situations have activated
these emotions over time and strengthened the complex? These questions
are examples and the best ones are the ones you think of. You don’t have to
write a book, even though I actually found myself doing that. Writing a real
history usually helps us have compassion for ourselves and to realize these
complexes may have once served to help or protect us. Most people do
about one to ten pages.
Margaret said that she found this part exciting because she could begin
to see where the complex gave her a pay-off. She could see where she
secretly got the best of people and inwardly defied her rigid mother and
fundamentalist father. Even those of us who function in life with strong
persecution or victim complexes know, at some level, we enjoy the power
our misery gives us.
STEP FOUR is to give the complex a name and to try to give it an
image. Winston Churchill called his depression his “black dog.” Giving it a
name and an image helps us differentiate from it even more. They confer a
separate identity on the complex, which moves it further into the field of
our imagination, where it has more distance to travel in order to come back
to take us over. The fact of bringing our imagination into play is one of the
first steps in transforming a complex from destructive to creative.
For example, when Marsha was struggling with panic attacks, she
imaged them as a hurricane. She felt her anticipation of them was like
staring at an approaching hurricane: fear, panic, disaster, no control,
devastation, impending doom. She named her hurricane complex “Katrina”
because it made her feel so devastated and defeated.
Several important things are happening here for Marsha, however. She
is accepting her hurricane complex and all of the fear and negativity it
brings. She is furthering her relationship with it, by amplifying what it
brings to her and by writing a thoughtful history of it—the panic attacks
first appeared in adolescence, then left, and returned 20 years later. And by
giving the complex distance, and differentiating from it, she is setting the
stage for being able to dialog directly with it, which can usually transform
such a complex into an inner teacher, though a harsh one at times.
STEP FIVE is to examine the activity of the complex in your life
through journaling. This means recording how it affects you and the events
in your life every day. In general, I believe there are four kinds of
journaling. The first is simply keeping a diary. The second is one that
repeats over and over again the themes and emotions that our complexes
and wounds seem to be keeping us stuck in. It is like we are stuck in the
mud and are spinning our wheels; or, in some cases, they become flights of
fantasy that compensate the despair we are unable to confront. The third
kind is what I’ve borrowed from Julia Cameron: “Morning Pages.” All of
these can be helpful in some way and can have their own value. But, the
kind of journaling I am referring to in this step is “journaling as inner
exploration,” (the title of Chapter Five in Sacred Selfishness).
In this kind of journaling we are creating and recreating ourselves. We
are bringing together both the act of being engaged in life and the act of
reflecting on the life we’ve experienced. In the case of our complexes, we
are reflecting on the thoughts and emotions they generate throughout the
day and the images they might bring to mind—images like a Porsche, or the
one from my dream of holding my bike and having a cast on my leg. In
summing up her day’s journaling about her panic attacks or hurricane
complex, Marsha noted: “This complex is reactionary. It appears in reaction
to extreme disharmony or discord in my home. Katrina appears when I am
not the source of the problem and feel powerless to confront, or have to act
in a way I don’t like or admire, in order to confront. Katrina suddenly
appears and sweeps everything away.”
On their own these kinds of reflections will begin to lead us into
transformation. We can start by simply recording the daily events, noting
the feelings they evoked in us, and then asking ourselves if they are related
to our complex. Then we ask how, and why. Note: Reading Chapter Five of
Sacred Selfishness might be helpful in this process.
If I were in your place right now, I would be thinking that all this stuff
sounds good, but Bud is charting out more than I can ever do. However,
cheer up, I’m not saying you have to sit down and do the seven steps every
day. Remember Jung says the goal is to be on the journey. If we forget that,
and fall into the trap of one or two of our societal complexes, that is, that
we have to “achieve” integration and get on with our lives—we will miss
the real opportunities that come from working with the material.
I can’t use will power to drive this work. I am moved by my love of
growth, transformation, and becoming more fully human. Sometimes my
psyche can devour hours of this, and sometimes it can only stand a few
minutes. I have to respect that. And, I have to be fierce and creative in
giving time to myself—and to confronting my achievement complex when
my psyche or my anima is saying, “OK Bud, that’s enough for now. Digest
this and then we will resume.”
STEP SIX is to dialog with the complex, or one of the major emotions
connected to it. Dialoging is part of what we call Active Imagination.
Active Imagination gives both form and voice to parts of our personality
that normally aren’t heard and it sets up lines of communication with them.
It means actively expressing ourselves—in writing—in order to help get
differentiation, and then “actively” listening to ourselves. And, we must
listen in a way that is seeking to understand our complexes and emotions.
We are not trying to get them to go away, shut up, or to leave us alone. We
don’t attack them unless they attack us. And if they do, which is rare in
dialoguing, we need to take them quickly to an analyst or therapist. They
may attack us with overwhelming emotions, obsessive thoughts and/ot
debilitating physical symptoms.
As we learn to talk with our emotions and complexes, which may even
be expressed as an illness, we learn to listen to these features in ourselves
and understand the parts they play in our lives more clearly. I recommend
you read a dialog that I shared in Chapter Six in Sacred Selfishness. I must
admit that Active Imagination was the hardest thing for me to grasp in
Jungian psychology. It took me about five years of effort to really get into
it, but the results I now get are priceless. We want to hold it in our
awareness in order to see how it’s affecting us, how we are affecting it,
what it is trying to teach us, and how our deepening relationship with it is
changing us and our lives for the better.
And finally, STEP SEVEN is to put a special section or box in your
journal to remind you of this complex every day. We want to hold it in our
awareness, to see how it’s affecting us, how we are affecting it, what it is
trying to teach us and how our deepening relationship with it is changing us
and our lives for the better.
Seven Steps for Transforming a Complex

Following these Seven Steps softens our ego’s stance toward complexes
without weakening the ego at all. In fact, it will become stronger as its
boundaries soften and relax. In this process, we are combining Eros—the
feminine approach to consciousness, reflection, accepting, and relating to—
with the masculine approach, Logos—which is separating, differentiating,
and bringing into the light.
Eros is neither embracing nor welcoming. It is a shift in attitude that
begins with acceptance, even if our complex and its emotions look like a
deformed dwarf or a hideous witch. Acceptance allows separation to begin
and that can be followed by relating to, rather than fighting against. Eros
needs the help of Logos because “relating to” requires separation and
differentiation in order to take place. We cannot relate to either a person or a
complex that we are fused with or possessed by. This act in itself—the act
of separation— helps put us in the position of being able to become more
objective and less driven by the obsessive and compulsive nature of the
complex.
Bringing the complex, its emotions, and how it affects us into the light
of consciousness is also Logos. This means that understanding the complex
and our feelings brings the energy of the complex into our ego, our
conscious personality. When complexes become appropriately assimilated
and integrated into our ego, a new openness in our personality develops
both toward our inner life and our outer world.
The dynamics of these Seven Steps begins with acceptance which
leads to separation and proceeds to “relating to” Eros and “learning from”
Logos. Relating and learning become the path of understanding that leads to
knowledge and then to wisdom. Wisdom opens us to a greater experience of
life as it informs how we live.
What I have been doing in this lecture is to continue in my vocation of
being a spokesperson for individuation, for growth, healing, wholeness and
love. In the individuation process we ground ourselves in the part of the
feminine that is relational and feeling—that comes from the heart. And, we
learn that our inner relationships are the foundation for our outer ones as
well as our relationship to life and the Divine.
I intend for my work to be an invitation to accept ourselves more fully.
As we find the courage to sacrifice our self-images again and again, we can
relate to our complexes and find the promise of an open heart and an
enlarged life—a life that is secure in enough self-knowledge to free us from
the roles that often reflect needy psychological pursuits, idealistic fantasies,
and sentimental hopes.
Individuation requires a choice. It is a choice to choose life in a more
abundant sense—to stop sleepwalking through driven, busy days and to find
the courage to face ourselves and to work in partnership with our deepest
potentials in their struggle to be born.

1. I would like to ask for you to write your reflections, reactions, etc.
2. Did anything surprise you in this section?
3. What did you think and feel about my discussion of “acceptance”?
4. Likewise, do you have any thoughts or reflections on my term Eros contra Eros?
Seven Steps for Transforming A Complex

Acceptance: Accepting a complex means fully admitting its existence, power, and emotions. It
doesn’t mean welcoming it, loving it or embracing it. Acceptance is the first step, and deciding
how to relate to it comes later. However, acceptance of and paying conscious attention to
anything that has been previously unconscious will begin to change it. Acceptance is the first
step in Eros contra Eros. It doesn’t mean we abandon our capacity to be tough with or
aggressive toward a complex. It means we hold these capacities in check until we see a conscious
need for them, which actually turns out to be rare.
Amplify: Amplifying the complex means to write down everything that I feel or that comes to
mind about a complex. “Everything” includes all the irrational, nasty, unpleasant feelings with no
censorship. This step is like the “Morning Pages” that Julia Cameron explains in The Artist’s
Way, except I do it whenever the emotion of a complex is seizing me or when I am working on
one. I write down everything I’m feeling, which generally is being overly furious, overly
judgmental, or overly despairing about how unfairly I’m being treated or misunderstood or not
appreciated. I write how I’m feeling about my wife, parents, analyst, or whomever, in just the
way it comes. This allows me to accept and experience my emotions and clear the sludge out of
my psyche. It also distances me from the feelings because they are out of my mind, and
expressed concretely on paper. This procedure helps me get a more objective perspective on what
I am experiencing and better insight into where it is coming from.
History: Step three is to write a history of the complex. This history begins the process of
seeking to understand it. Whenever we meet new friends or lovers, we usually begin the
relationship by telling our story and listening to theirs in an effort to know them and be known by
them. Go back as far as you can remember with the complex. Is it a family complex, a complex
in the culture you grew up in? Did it come to you through one of your parents? Is it truly yours—
that is, based on your own wounding—or is it one you inherited because someone passed it on,
instead of working it out? What were the early emotions around the early wound? What kinds of
situations have activated these emotions over time and strengthened the complex? These
questions are examples, and the best ones are the ones you think of. Writing a real history helps
us have compassion for ourselves and to realize these complexes may have once served to help
or protect us. Most people do about one to ten pages.
Name it: Name it and give it an image. Adam, the Biblical ancestor of humankind is given the
task of naming all the creatures. In symbolic terms, God has given him the task of distinguishing
them consciously. Name is a symbol of becoming conscious of the exact nature of whatever is
being named. Go with whatever name comes to mind and don’t make this a laborious process.
The name that quickly comes to mind is likely to be the one rooted in your unconscious and
therefore the most helpful one. Our imagination gives images to or personifies intense emotions
and experiences all the time. An image often helps open the door to our interior life. Giving a
name and an image (such as Churchill calling his depression his “black dog”) requires conscious
attention and is the opposite of repression. Giving a complex, or the strong emotion it evokes, a
name and an image helps us differentiate from it even more. A name confers a separate identity
on the complex, which moves it further into the field of our imagination where it has more
distance to travel in order to come back and take us over. The fact of bringing our imagination
into play is one of the first steps in transforming a complex from destructive to creative.
Journaling: Step five is to examine the activity of the complex in my life through journaling.
This means recording how it affects you and the events in your life every day. The kind of
journaling I am referring to in this step is “Journaling as Inner Exploration,” the title of Chapter
Five in Sacred Selfishness. In this kind of journaling, we are creating and recreating ourselves.
We are bringing together the act of being engaged in life with the act of reflecting on the life
we’ve experienced. In the case of our complexes, we are reflecting on the thoughts, emotions,
and images they generate throughout the day. On their own, these reflections will begin to lead us
into transformation. We can start by simply recording daily events, noting the feelings they
evoked in us, and then asking ourselves if these feelings are related to our complex. Then we ask
how and why. Reading Chapter Five of Sacred Selfishness might be helpful.
Dialog: Step six is to dialog with the complex or one of the major emotions connected to it.
Dialoging is part of what we call Active Imagination. Active Imagination gives both form and
voice to parts of our personality that normally aren’t heard, and it sets up lines of communication
with them. It means actively expressing ourselves in writing, in order to help get differentiation,
and then “actively” listening to ourselves. And we must listen in a way that is seeking to
understand our complexes and emotions. We are not trying to get them to go away, to shut up, or
to leave us alone. We don’t attack them unless they attack us, and if they do, which is rare, we
need to take them quickly to an analyst or therapist. As we learn to talk with our emotions or
complexes, which may even be expressed as an illness, we learn to listen to these features in
ourselves and understand the parts they play in our lives more clearly. Chapter Six in Sacred
Selfishness, “Dialoging as Interrelating” reflects my journey of working through and into Active
Imagination. It is truly Eros contra Eros.
Staying Aware of the Complex: Step seven is to put a special section or box in your journal to
remind you of this complex every day. We want to hold it in our awareness in order to see how it
is affecting us, how we are affecting it, what it is trying to teach us, and how our deepening
relationship with it is changing us and our lives for the better. Some people also include a short
meditation on the complex to help them stay aware of it.
Please keep in mind that inner work is not meant to be like running a marathon or achieving a
winning position. According to Jung, the goal is to be on the journey. If we forget this and fall
into the trap of one or two of our societal complexes—that is, we have to achieve integration
and get on with our lives—we will miss the real opportunities and surprises that come from
truly working with the material.
Chapter 4 : Seminar
A LIFETIME OF PROMISE:
A Jungian Guide to Discovering the Transformative
Power in Complexes
Big M and Big F

After the lecture last night, Massimilla said that I had better start this
morning’s seminar with a joke. I replied, “That’s a good idea. You better get
me one about fathers and mothers.” And, she did. It is about Fred who is 32
years old and still single.
One day a friend of Fred’s asked, “Why aren’t you married? Can’t you
find a woman who will be a good wife?”
Fred replied, “Actually, I’ve found many women I wanted to marry,
but when I bring them home to meet my parents, my mother doesn’t like
them.”
His friend thinks for a moment and says, “I’ve got the perfect solution,
just find a girl who’s just like your mother.”
A few months later they meet again and his friend says, “Did you find
the perfect girl? Did your mother like her?”
With a frown on his face, Fred answers, “Yes, I found the perfect girl.
She was just like my mother. You were right, my mother liked her very
much.”
The friend said, “Then what’s the problem?”
Fred replied, “My father doesn’t like her.”
With that I want to pick up where I mentioned last night that our
mother complex and father complex, big M and big F, are the parents of all
of our major complexes. You can’t imagine my surprise when I discovered
this fact during my analytic training. I was in my late forties. I had been to
years of therapy and I thought, I thought, I had done more than enough
mother and father work and had put my childhood to bed. Well, I still had
two books worth of work to do!—The Resurrection of the Unicorn on
working through my mother complex, and The Father Quest, my journey
into understanding this great archetypal figure.
Experiences and associations with our personal parents, or the lack or
loss of parents, cluster around an archetype and become complexes. Our
father complexes have at their core the Great Father or God archetype. In
my book, The Father Quest, I designate our personal fathers by writing the
word “father” in lower case. When I refer to the archetype of FATHER I
write it in all capital letters to show that it is an image from the collective
unconscious, the realm in our psyche that is much greater than our personal
experience, knowledge, and understanding.
Our mother complexes have their core in the Great Mother or Goddess
archetype. The energy fields of these two great archetypes are the biggest
dynamos that drive our personalities. Our relationship to these energy fields
can fill us with confidence, purpose, and enthusiasm or with hopelessness
and despair.
Bonding, the lack of bonding, or having a destructive relationship with
our personal parents generates the complexes (i.e., the psychic energy fields
that will color our entire relationship to life). Let me share with you a few
opening pages of Chapter Five in my book, The Father Quest, that
addresses how these relationships develop:
Since the beginning of our kind, the image of the mother cradling
her infant has symbolized the state of inner harmony. The
foundation of our psychological relationship to life rests on our
personal experience of this metaphor as infants. We carry this
experience, in Erikson’s terms “trust versus mistrust,” straight
into adulthood. It is the job of the Fathers to provide the
emotional safety for mothers and children that insures the
development of this image of trust in life. As we grow, we can
then internalize this image as a basis for our development and
self-actualization. If we have developed a sense of trust in
ourselves and life, we are much less vulnerable to becoming
overly dependent on other people, outer objects and situations,
such as spouses, institutions, and conventional values.
Today we live in a world where our children are scared. Our
inner unity and security is split. We are over-involved in the
demands of outer worlds at the expense of our inner lives. We are
so alienated from our own natures that we have practically
forgotten that they even exist. Mother and child, as a metaphor or
a concrete reality are not safe in our world. The Fathers have
failed in their most elementary task.
For several generations now, the expectant father in our
culture has been portrayed in the media as an awkward,
bumbling figure who can do little but get in the way. In the last
few decades, men have become more actively involved in the
birth process, coaching their wives through labor, and being
present at the birth. But even though the involved father is an
improvement on the buffoon pacing in the waiting room, and
even though maternal men can sometimes be helpful and may
make better mothers than their wives—is it appropriate that
fathers take on the role of mothering? Should fathers become
nurturing duplicates of mothers? Joseph Campbell, when
speaking of males, began by discussing Jane Goodall’s chimps:
... males control an area some thirty miles in circumference,
and they know where the bananas are. When the bananas are
failing in one area, they know where to go for more. They also
are defenders. They defend against invasion by other tribes.
And just in the primary way, the function of the male in this
society is to prepare and maintain a field within which the female
can bring forth the future.
The child psychiatrist D. W. Winnicott maintains that the
appropriate role of the father is similar to the natural role of male
chimps—to provide a “protective covering” for the mother so
that she can turn her full attention to bearing and nurturing the
baby. Early infancy, when the world of the family begins
imprinting itself on the infant’s psyche, is a critical time in our
emotional development. And much of the infant’s view of the
world is filtered through the mother’s body and the emotional
attitudes her body reflects. A mother who is nervous, anxious, or
resentful of the birth will lead her child to feel out of adjustment
psychologically. This child will have a personality founded on a
deep sense of anxiety and mistrust in the world.
A mother who is sufficiently gentle, loving, and emotionally
secure (Winnicott calls this the “good enough mother,” in order
to counteract the illusion that mothers must be perfect) will help
her infant develop a basic sense of trust in life and in their place
in the world. Winnicott maintains that it is the father’s role to
provide the mother with the peace she needs to be a “good
enough mother.”
Of course, this greatly oversimplifies the situation. Life is
complex, and the mother-infant relationship can be disturbed for
any number of reasons, early deaths, illnesses, separations, or
deprivations due to a myriad of crises. Also declaring mothers
responsible for the relationship’s success or failure is much too
easy an answer. My point is that fathers, and the cultural Fathers,
play an important part in this primary relationship.
Even though we are not chimps, with a need to defend our territory
from intruders, we still need to defend our family (and ourselves) from fear.
From a psychological perspective, the wounding of the feminine in our
culture has led many mothers to mistrust the world and men to a greater
degree than ever before, and this mistrust has affected our children. Also,
we live in a fearful society. The Atlantic Monthly recently ran a lead article
entitled “Growing Up Scared” that showed how all of our children in every
socioeconomic level live with fear every day. Furthermore, we have created
an economic system that requires both parents to work in many cases,
almost guaranteeing stress for young parents. Finally, as human beings, our
primary sense of security often comes from caring, trust, and emotional
closeness, and our sense of community and family is very strained. The
threats to parenting are more complicated and serious than ever. It is the
Father’s responsibility to consciously face them in order to create a safe
society and a protective covering “to bring forth the future.”
Father and Mother

As a baby emerges from the period of complete dependence on the mother,
it becomes conscious of the father not just as a familiar figure, but as a
figure who is also different from the mother. The presence of this additional
parent reduces stress for both the mother and the child and adds balance and
stability to the family in a healthy situation.
As children continue to grow, they get to know their fathers as
individuals and so learn more about a real relationship that includes love
and respect. For his part, the father should let his children see enough of his
real self over the years to demystify himself so that his children can relate
to him as a human being, not as a god or distant figurehead. If so, a father
can open up a whole new perspective on life for his children. When he joins
them in play or takes them out, he adds valuable new elements to their
experience and helps them see the world through a new pair of eyes.
As the father begins to have an influence on his child, he activates an
archetypal pattern whose nature is opposed to that of the mother’s. In
elemental terms, the FATHER represents doing and the MOTHER
represents being. This FATHER archetype determines our relationship to
society, to reason, and to the spirit and the dynamism of nature. The actual
father carries this archetypal image in the life of the child, just as the actual
mother carries the archetypal image of the MOTHER.
It’s vitally important to distinguish between the archetypes and actual
fathers and mothers when we talk about a father helping a child “separate
from the mother.” What we mean is that in order to become adults, we must
separate from our own dependency needs represented by the archetypal
image of the MOTHER. This separation from the MOTHER doesn’t
necessarily mean alienation from your real mother unless perhaps she
refuses to participate in the process of psychological maturation. And even
while a father is helping his son separate from the MOTHER, he must
support the real mother emotionally during the period of separation.
Psychological growth involves separating the archetypal images from
the real parents and integrating them into our own personalities. This
procedure happens on three levels. First, we separate from our mothers,
then from our fathers, and then the world or cultural parents—the guiding
social conventions of our time that can entrap us in societal obligations.
This process can take years and, if it goes reasonably well, it gives us
the opportunity to have a genuine relationship with both our parents and our
own children. If the process goes poorly, usually because the parents fight
against it in some way, then all parties are likely to wind up angry and
resentful, or else dependent on or alienated from one another.
Many of my analysands are haunted by the commandment, “Honor
your father and mother.” They end up wracked with guilt and shame
because they feel they should “honor” a parent who intimidated and
brutalized them through their entire childhood. In reality, they dislike or
even hate their parents, but they torture themselves thinking they should be
able to forgive their parents because they “did the best they could.” (The
fact is, if someone has abused you, it is simply healthier and more human to
entirely distance yourself from them.)
To honor your father and mother psychologically means to be
conscious of the images they have left within our personalities and of the
power those images have to shape our destinies. We must honor these
images or be victimized by them. Once we have become an individual and
have differentiated from our parents, and our parental complexes, these
inner parental images become archetypal companions, like the wise old man
or the wise old woman, and bless us with their special energy.
We can find an example of this process in the elder wisdom of
mythology. In Book Sixteen of The Odyssey, Telemachus and his father,
Odysseus, are reunited by Athene. A very poignant passage outlines the
process that enabled Telemachus to remove the godly (archetypal) image of
his father and reconcile with the human being previously hidden by this
representation of the godly image. When Odysseus is first revealed by
Athene, Telemachus refuses to accept the identity of his father. He responds
with fear that Odysseus is not his father, but some god deluding him to
increase his pain and sufferings and beseeches him for mercy. Odysseus
replied:
No god, why take me for a god? No, no. I am that father whom
your boyhood lacked and suffered pain for lack of. I am he!
Once again Telemachus rejected this possibility, saying:
...Meddling spirits conceived this trick to twist the knife in me...
Odysseus then instructed him to bear the manhood he had earned and
conduct himself like a prince. With this admonishment, Telemachus
accepted Odysseus as his father and they embraced and wept.
... Telemachus began to weep. Salt tears rose from the wells of
longing in both men, and cries burst from them as keen and
fluttering as those of the great taloned hawk, whose nestlings
farmers take before they fly. So helplessly they cried, pouring out
tears, and might have gone on weeping until sundown...
In this beautiful poetry we can experience the deep yearning for, and
the intense joy of, being able to reconcile with the humanity of a parent.
The eternal truth in this scene reminds us that Athene, the goddess of
wisdom and courage, must mediate this reconciliation. We also must note
carefully Odysseus’s example; for it is the responsibility of the parent,
specifically the father, to take the initiative and insist upon giving up his
larger-than-life image as well as insisting on his son’s bearing himself with
maturity.
Working with Parental Complexes

There are three important additional points I want to make now. The first
point is one that is rarely mentioned. Every mother and father develops a
son or daughter complex in relation to each of their children. These
complexes involve the expectations or lack of expectations and
disappointments they enclose the child in as they grow. In my own case
these expectations started before I was born. These projections may change
as children grow. And, if parents are unwilling to give up these complexes
and projections, then once their son or daughter wants their authenticity to
be recognized, valued, and affirmed, an irreconcilable difference will come
between the parent and the son or daughter. You cannot reconcile with
someone who won’t give up a complex that typecasts you into a particular
definition of identity.
Secondly, we must all separate from our mother and father complexes.
For this reason, the Jungian analyst Dr. Verena Kast refers to our complexes
as the “originally” positive or negative mother or father complex.
Complexes can develop in many ways. However, if we are seeking
authenticity and a life of our own, each of them will eventually hold us
hostage. Even a complex that has been life-enhancing will later become a
trap or prison if we don’t separate from it. Of course, it is when it becomes
a trap or prison that we usually discover the complex.
Thirdly, it is a common misunderstanding with many psychologically
minded people and even therapists that one can internalize the “good”
image of the therapist in order to counter or replace the negative image of
the parent in a negative mother or father complex. This idea is not true. The
Jungian analyst Hans Dieckmann explores this situation in his book,
Complexes. Plus, my own personal and professional experience validates
this reality. The good image of the therapist can only at best cause the
negative complex to recede into the unconscious from which it will later
return, often with renewed strength. Complexes must be worked through
and integrated.
And, a fourth point...as you know we live in what we refer to as a
patriarchy. This means that our culture has a negative father complex. And
this means that if we are unhappy, if life is bad or our self-esteem is low, we
are compelled to think that achievement is the only thing that can help us.
In this case, achievement is not fueled by the pleasure, love, or creativity in
what we are doing. It is driven by compulsion. This compulsion can never
be satisfied. (This achievement mentality has been developed out of all that
is motherless and unfeminine and reflects the total lack of a positive father,
a positive patriarchal influence in our culture.)
The emotional core of our personality complexes becomes activated
when some powerful event, encounter, or demand touches an area that we
once had trouble dealing with. Or, if our complex is strong enough it can
become a general part of our world view or even color our entire
worldview. When we are “in a complex,” so to speak, we become rigid,
anxious, and generally emotional. We will frequently defend ourselves by
attacking, in stereotypical ways—meaning the same old patterns we have
used many times. Complexes close us down, limit our ability to hear others,
to grow, to imagine, and to consider new possibilities.
Complexes were originally formed in childhood but may surface at
any age. In most cases, they result from the repeated interaction between
child and parent or child and family. For example, at one point in
Margaret’s work, she recalled having an image or dream of her father when
she was very young. In this image her father was a giant, dwarfing and
terrifying her. Even thinking about this image made her want to shrink up
and sink into the ground. She wondered if she had been sexually abused.
The answer turned out to be no, not sexually abused, but emotionally
violated and intimidated, which was reflected in the symbolic thinking of
the child.
If, however, a complex results from one big trauma, it is usually
abandonment. Loss, abuse, violence or some other catastrophic wound
cause a certain kind of complex or wound to the personality that requires
that we carefully bring the lost child back into consciousness in the safety
of an analytic container. The theme of the abandoned child is archetypal and
we all experience it in some ways. In dreams it may represent a complex
where we have abandoned our future potentials. Harry Potter, as you know,
was an orphaned child which can be experienced as abandonment, and
touched this theme in both grown-ups and children.

1. Once again we have covered a lot of intense material.
2. What kind of feelings or thoughts have come up in you?
3. Are they surprising?
4. I would also suggest you look over the chart:
Some General Characteristics of Parental Complexes and see what characteristics you
might want to add or subtract.
Some General Characteristics of Parental
Complexes
Positive Mother Complex in Men
Initially feels comfortable in himself and life. Tends to expect life to recognize and take care of
him, tries to conform to other’s needs and expectations. If he fails, he feels rejected and
abandoned. Difficulty committing to relationships. Becomes depressed and discouraged at mid-
life. Creates a warm atmosphere.
Positive Mother Complex in Women

Has a fundamental faith in life and the world. Remains mother-dependent. Finds safety in
dependency to the point of making people angry at her (her children, for example). She may have
depressive and body image issues.
Note: It is surprising to realize that a positive mother complex can be responsible for depressive
tendencies, anxiety, and narcissistic tendencies such as illusions of grandeur and oversensitivity
to others’ opinions later in life. The problem is that when we have a strong parental image in one
complex, we usually have a weak one in the other parental complex. In this case a weak father
complex.
Positive Father Complex in Men

Sees himself as competent. Has a rock-solid identity. Slow to change or be creative. Not at ease
with independent women. Has an unconscious ideology of control to minimize risk, recognition,
and acceptance.
Positive Father Complex in Women

Sees men as more interesting. Friendly, but distant and cool toward women. Overvalues their
erotic capacity and undervalues intellect and ability. Self-esteem depends on men because they
aren’t grounded in the feminine. Afraid to make decisions. Anxious and defined by male values,
school, and work.
Note: A positive father complex helps us go into the world with confidence and the capacity to
be aggressive. But it leaves us short in Eros and the ability to experience being.
Negative Mother Complex in Women

Must make great efforts to have any hopes of their needs being met. Life is cold, the world is
without love. One feels distrust, anxiety, and a sense of having no right to exist. Very difficult to
face the fear underlying one’s life. May compensate by acting as if afraid of nothing.
Negative Mother Complex in Men

Often feels paralyzed, helpless, and guilty. Makes strenuous demands on themselves. Takes
refuge in achievement and career. Never feels really alive. May feel a knot of pain in the stomach
from a deep fear they cannot trust life.
Note: A negative mother complex leaves us feeling like we and the world are bad and
threatening. We are ruled by a basic sense of fear, distrust, and that we are to blame. And we are
afraid of our underlying rage. These feelings make the struggle with the complex, which needs to
be very aggressive, difficult.
Negative Father Complex in Men

The father, by upholding his rules, destroys the son’s self-esteem. To rebel means to lose the
father’s blessing. To follow the father’s path means to lose oneself. Carries self-critical and self-
undermining attitude into relationships. Easily humiliated or made to feel insignificant. Retreats
into silence as a defense.
Negative Father Complex in Women

Feels incompetent, lonely, and unable to speak for herself in relationships or in work and careers.
May overcompensate with achievement. Has rage toward mother. Her development as a woman
is violated. Feels “not good for anything.”
Note: Negative father complexes destroy self-esteem and leave men and women hard on
themselves and others. There is an underlying sense of rage at the mother for not protecting.
Whenever a parent is destructive to a child, mythology (Gaia, Zeus and Kronos, for example)
shows that it is an archetypal obligation for the other parent to totally defend the child.
“Hence in my judgment, all the other complexes can be derived from these two
fundamental complexes, the mother complex and the father complex...We know from all
analyses the extent to which the parental complexes play into the rivalries among siblings.
In her classic book, Analysis of Children (1930), Wickes elaborated for the first time the
extent to which children live, suffer, and express the unconscious problems and complexes
of their parents.”
– Hans Dieckmann, Complexes, p. 3
Stepping Out of the Dead Skin of Our Old Life

I want to invite you into a more relaxing change of pace. We are going to
read a story, the Grimms’ fairytale known as “The Donkey” or, as it is
called in other versions, “Donkey Skin.”
This story reminds us that we may grow up so identified with the
values of our parents and society that our real selves are buried beneath the
skin we developed that represents our parents’ kingdom. A child who has
not been mirrored by its mother and father, not permitted to think its own
thoughts or feel its own feelings, has been forced symbolically to obey an
outer and inner king and queen. The child’s sense of inner authority fails to
develop adequately, and focuses instead on “What will people think? What
do people expect? What is the appropriate thing to do?” Destructive as this
outer authority can be to our creativity and authenticity, it may force us to
grow a defensive skin or persona to hide and protect who we really are. Our
re-emergence depends upon our willingness to journey to another kingdom.
Now I will invite you to sit back, relax and listen to the story.
The Donkey
Once upon a time there lived a King and a Queen, who were rich, and had
everything they wanted, but no children. The Queen lamented over this day
and night, and said: “I am like a field on which nothing grows.” At last,
God gave the Queen her wish, but when the child came into the world, it did
not look like a human child, but was a little donkey. When the mother saw
that, her lamentations and outcries began in real earnest; she said she
would far rather have had no child at all than have a donkey, and that they
were to throw it into the water that the fishes might devour it. But the King
said: “No, since God has sent him he shall be my son and heir, and after my
death sit on the royal throne, and wear the kingly crown.” The donkey,
therefore, was brought up and grew bigger, and his ears grew up high and
straight.
And he was of a merry disposition, jumped about, played and took
especial pleasure in music, so that he went to a celebrated musician and
said: “Teach me your art, that I may play the lute as well as you do.” “Ah,
dear little master,” answered the musician, “that would come very hard to
you, your fingers are not quite suited to it, and are far too big. I am afraid
the strings would not last.” But no excuses were of any use—the donkey
was determined to play the lute. And since he was persevering and
industrious, he at last learnt to do it as well as the master himself.
The young lordling once went out walking full of thought and came to
a well; he looked into it and in the mirror-clear water saw his donkey’s
form. He was so distressed about it, that he went into the wide world, and
only took with him one faithful companion. They traveled up and down, and
at last came into a kingdom where an old King reigned who had a single
but wonderfully beautiful daughter. The donkey said: “Here we will stay,”
knocked at the gate, and cried: “A guest is without—open, that he may
enter.” When the gate was not opened, he sat down, took his lute and played
it in the most delightful manner with his two fore-feet. Then the doorkeeper
opened his eyes, and gaped, and ran to the King and said: “Outside by the
gate sits a young donkey which plays the lute as well as an experienced
master!” “Then let the musician come to me,” said the King. But when the
donkey came in, everyone began to laugh at the lute-player. And when the
donkey was asked to sit down and eat with the servants, he was unwilling,
and said: “I am no common stable-ass, I am a noble one.” Then they said:
“If that is what you are, seat yourself with the soldiers.” “No,” said he, “I
will sit by the King.” The King smiled, and said good-humoredly: “Yes, it
shall be as you will, little ass, come here to me.” Then he asked: “Little ass,
how does my daughter please you?” The donkey turned his head towards
her, looked at her, nodded and said: “I like her above measure, I have never
yet seen anyone so beautiful as she is.” “Well, then, you shall sit next her
too,” said the King. “That is exactly what I wish,” said the donkey, and he
placed himself by her side, ate and drank, and knew how to behave himself
daintily and cleanly.
When the noble beast had stayed a long time at the King’s court, he
thought: “What good does all this do me, I shall still have to go home
again,” let his head hang sadly and went to the King and asked for his
dismissal. But the King had grown fond of him, and said: “Little ass, what
ails you? You look as sour as a jug of vinegar, I will give you what you
want. Do you want gold?” “No,” said the donkey, and shook his head. “Do
you want jewels and rich dress?” “No.” “Do you wish for half my
kingdom?” “Indeed, no.” Then said the King: “If I did but know what
would make you content. Will you have my pretty daughter to wife?” “Ah,
yes,” said the ass, “I should indeed like her,” and all at once he became
quite merry and full of happiness, for that was exactly what he was wishing
for.
So a great and splendid wedding was held. In the evening, when the
bride and bridegroom were led into their bedroom, the King wanted to
know if the ass would behave well, and ordered a servant to hide himself
there. When they were both within, the bridegroom bolted the door, looked
around, and as he believed that they were quite alone, he suddenly threw off
his ass’s skin, and stood there in the form of a handsome royal youth.
“Now,” said he, “you see who I am, and see also that I am not unworthy of
you.” Then the bride was glad, and kissed him, and loved him dearly. When
morning came, he jumped up, put his animal’s skin on again, and no one
could have guessed what kind of a form was hidden beneath it. Soon came
the old King. “Ah,” cried he, “so the little ass is already up!
But surely you are sad,” said he to his daughter, “that you have not
got a proper man for your husband?” “Oh, no, dear father, I love him as
well as if he were the handsomest in the world, and I will keep him as long
as I live.” The King was surprised, but the servant who had concealed
himself came and revealed everything to him. The King said: “That cannot
be true.” “Then watch yourself the next night, and you will see it with your
own eyes; and hark you, lord King, if you were to take his skin away and
throw it in the fire, he would be forced to show himself in his true shape.”
“Your advice is good,” said the King, and at night when they were
asleep, he stole in, and when he got to the bed he saw by the light of the
moon a noble-looking youth lying there, and the skin lay stretched on the
ground. So he took it away, and had a great fire lighted outside, and threw
the skin into it, and remained by it himself until it was all burnt to ashes.
But since he was anxious to know how the robbed man would behave
himself, he stayed awake the whole night and watched. When the youth had
slept his fill, he got up by the first light of morning, and wanted to put on
the ass’s skin, but it was not to be found. At this he was alarmed, and, full of
grief and anxiety, said: “Now I shall have to contrive to escape.” But when
he went out, there stood the King, who said: “My son, whither away in such
haste? What have you in mind? Stay here, you are such a handsome man,
you shall not go away from me. I will now give you half my kingdom, and
after my death you shall have the whole of it.” “Then I hope that what
begins so well may end well, and I will stay with you,” said the youth. And
the old man gave him half the kingdom, and in a year’s time, when he died,
the youth had the whole, and after the death of his father he had another
kingdom as well, and lived in all magnificence.
Questions to Expand Us:

1. As you are thinking about the story, write down the images that affected you the most.
2. Now I would like for you to reflect for a few more minutes and write down the feelings,
ideas and questions the story brought up in you.
I have another question for you to reflect on and write about.
3. How did this story remind you of parts of your own journey or struggles?
The Journey of Initiation
Stepping out of the skins of our old selves is an interesting image. It takes
courage. In primitive initiation ceremonies the initiates went through
ordeals that were meant to separate them from their parents and families so
they could become self-responsible members of the tribe with no more
allegiances to their families. They were put through frightening ordeals that
symbolized the death to the old and rebirth into the new. In initiations, one
experienced the fear of death and of being in the liminal space, the space of
betwixt and between death and rebirth, when the outcome is not known for
sure.
Transformation is the same as initiation. The Jungian analyst Joseph
Henderson adds that the fear of death is about “fear of change, or fear of
growing up, or fear of becoming independent of the claims of the material
world, or a mixture of all three.” Whenever we take on the integration of a
parental complex it will transform us, and somewhere in this process we
will be afraid.

Think about what I have just said.
1. What are the benefits of this journey of initiation? What makes this process worthwhile? (a
sense of well-being, freedom, being more alive)
2. Can it affect the body? (e.g., release pain or improve chronic pain, illness, cancer, weight,
asthma, chronic fatigue)
Facing the Complex and Transforming It

Now we are going to listen to another story. Some of you may be familiar
with it. We used it in our book, Like Gold Through Fire, and it comes from
the book The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis. By this time I’m sure that
many of you have become aware that strangely enough, we actually like
some of our complexes. I enjoyed my fascination with Porsches. A central
complex or complexes will color the nature of our identity and how we
react to the world like pouring dark red wine into water. In many cases we
will begin to say, “This is just who I am,” and turn the defense of the
complex into a defense of who we are. Then we are living as a ghost of who
we really could be. Now let’s see what happens in our story...
The Great Divorce by C. S. Lewis

I saw coming towards us a Ghost who carried something on his shoulder.
Like all the Ghosts, he was unsubstantial, but they differed from one
another as smokes differ. Some had been whitish; this one was dark and
oily. What sat on his shoulder was a little red lizard, and it was twitching its
tail like a whip and whispering things in his ear. As we caught sight of him
he turned his head to the reptile with a snarl of impatience. “Shut up, I tell
you!” he said. It wagged its tail and continued to whisper to him. He ceased
snarling, and presently began to smile. Then he turned and started to limp
westward, away from the mountains.
“Off so soon?” said a voice.
The speaker was more or less human in shape but larger than a man,
and so bright that I could hardly look at him. His presence smote on my
eyes and on my body too (for there was heat coming from him as well as
light) like the morning sun at the beginning of a tyrannous summer day.
“Yes. I’m off,” said the Ghost. “Thanks for all your hospitality. But it’s
no good, you see. I told this little chap,” (here he indicated the Lizard),
“that he’d have to be quiet if he came—which he insisted on doing. Of
course his stuff won’t do here: I realize that. But he won’t stop. I shall just
have to go home.”
“Would you like me to make him quiet?” said the flaming Spirit—an
angel, as I now understood.
“Of course I would,” said the Ghost. “Then I will kill him,” said the
Angel, taking a step forward.
“Oh-ah-look out! You’re burning me. Keep away,” said the Ghost,
retreating.
“Don’t you want him killed?”
“You didn’t say anything about killing him at first. I hardly meant to
bother you with anything so drastic as that.”
“It’s the only way,” said the Angel, whose burning hands were now
very close to the Lizard.
“Shall I kill it?”
“Well, that’s a further question. I’m quite open to consider it, but it’s a
new point, isn’t it? I mean, for the moment I was only thinking about
silencing it because up here—well, it’s so damned embarrassing.”
“May I kill it?”
“Honestly, I don’t think there’s the slightest necessity for that. I’m sure
I shall be able to keep it in order now. I think the gradual process would be
far better than killing it.”
“The gradual process is of no use at all.”
“Don’t you think so? Well, I’ll think over what you’ve said very
carefully. I honestly will. In fact I’d let you kill it now, but as a matter of
fact I’m not feeling frightfully well today. It would be silly to do it now. I’d
need to be in good health for the operation. Some other day, perhaps.”
“There is no other day. All days are present now.”
“Get back! You’re burning me. How can I tell you to kill it? You’d kill
me if you did.”
“It is not so.”
“Why, you’re hurting me now.”
“I never said it wouldn’t hurt you. I said it wouldn’t kill you.”
“Oh, I know. You think I’m a coward. But it isn’t that. Really it isn’t. I
say! Let me run back by tonight’s bus and get an opinion from my own
doctor. I’ll come again the first moment I can.”
“This moment contains all moments.”
“Why are you torturing me? You are jeering at me. How can I let you
tear me to pieces? If you wanted to help me, why didn’t you kill the damned
thing without asking me— before I knew? It would be all over by now if you
had.”
“I cannot kill it against your will. It is impossible. Have I your
permission?”
The Angel’s hands were almost closed on the Lizard, but not quite.
Then the Lizard began chattering to the Ghost so loud that even I could
hear what it was saying.
“Be careful,” it said. “He can do what he says. He can kill me. One
fatal word from you and he will! Then you’ll be without me for ever and
ever. It’s not natural. How could you live? You’d be only a sort of ghost, not
a real man as you are now. He doesn’t understand. He’s only a cold,
bloodless abstract thing. It may be natural for him, but it isn’t for us. Yes,
yes. I know there are no real pleasures now, only dreams. But aren’t they
better than nothing? And I’ll be so good. I admit I’ve sometimes gone too
far in the past, but I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll give you nothing but
really nice dreams—all sweet and fresh and almost innocent. You might say,
quite innocent.”
“Have I your permission?” said the Angel to the Ghost.
“I know it will kill me.”
“It won’t. But supposing it did?”
“You’re right. It would be better to be dead than to live with this
creature.”
“Then may I?”
“Damn and blast you! Go on can’t you? Get it over. Do what you
like,” bellowed the Ghost: but ended, whimpering, “God help me. God help
me.”
Next moment the Ghost gave a scream of agony such as I never heard
on Earth. The burning One closed his crimson grip on the reptile: twisted it,
while it bit and writhed, and then flung it, broken backed, on the turf.
“Ow! That’s done for me,” gasped the Ghost, reeling backwards.
For a moment I could make out nothing distinctly. Then I saw, between
me and the nearest bush, unmistakably solid but growing every moment
solider, the upper arm and the shoulder of a man. Then brighter still and
stronger, the legs and hands. The neck and golden head materialized while I
watched, and if my attention had not wavered I should have seen the actual
completing of a man—an immense man, naked, not much smaller than the
Angel. What distracted me was the fact that at the same moment something
seemed to be happening to the Lizard. At first I thought the operation had
failed. So far from dying, the creature was still struggling and even growing
bigger as it struggled. And as it grew, it changed. Its hinder parts grew
rounder. The tail, still flickering, became a tail of hair that flickered
between huge and glossy buttocks. Suddenly I started back, rubbing my
eyes. What stood before me was the greatest stallion I have ever seen,
silvery white but with mane and tail of gold. It was smooth and shining,
rippled with swells of flesh and muscle, whinnying and stamping with its
hoofs. At each stamp the land shook and the trees dwindled.
The new-made man turned and clapped the new horse’s neck. It nosed
his bright body. Horse and master breathed each into the other’s nostrils.
The man turned from it, flung himself at the feet of the Burning One, and
embraced them. When he rose I thought his face shone with tears, but it
may have been only the liquid love and brightness (one cannot distinguish
them in that country) which flowed from him. I had not long to think about
it. In joyous haste the young man leaped upon the horse’s back. Turning in
his seat he waved a farewell, then nudged the stallion with his heels. They
were off before I well knew what was happening. There was riding if you
like! I came out as quickly as I could from among the bushes to follow them
with my eyes; but already they were only like a shooting star far off on the
green plain, and soon among the foothills of the mountains. Then, still like a
star, I saw them winding up, scaling what seemed impossible steeps, and
quicker every moment, till near the dim brow of the landscape, so high that
I must strain my neck to see them, they vanished, bright themselves, into the
rose-brightness of that everlasting morning.
Now I would like for you to make this story more personal. If you
wish, go back and read the story again slowly.
1. What kind of thoughts and feelings came up in you about the

Ghost? What might the Ghost symbolize? What might it be like
to live in an insubstantial body? What do you know of the Ghost
within yourself? Take a few minutes to write this for yourself.
2. What more can you say about the Lizard? What might the Lizard
symbolize? Why might the Lizard want to keep the Ghost in a
dream or unconscious state? How does the Lizard help keep the
Ghost in an insubstantial state of being? Take a few minutes to
write how you know the Lizard within yourself.
3. What do you know of “the gradual process” and other delays and
excuses in your life as you try to avoid transformation and “keep
it in order”? What are ways we try to keep our children in “the
gradual process”? In what ways does our culture encourage “the
gradual process” and avoidance of transformation?
4. The Lizard is transformed into a horse. What might the horse
symbolize? What do you know of the horse energy in you? What
might be keeping the Lizard in you from being transformed into
a beautiful horse?

1. How do the man and the horse relate to each other?
2. What do you think about the angel? What might the angel symbolize? How might you
know when the angel is near you? Can you see this story within you now?
Quotations for Reflection

Now, in order to help us explore growth, transformation, and complexes
further, read each quotation. Then, after each quotation, take five minutes
to write your reflections:
QUOTATION 1: “A narrow, defensive, threatened ego will refuse the

complexes entrance, deny their existence and repress their energy. Thus the
complexes come to thrive and grow stronger in the darkness of the shadow.
They cannot, then, travel their customary route from archetypal territory
into the terra firma of the ego... Just imagine the truck drivers who have
come from faraway lands, have had to travel over those ‘inconvenient and
steep footpaths,’ now waiting outside the city gates of ego-consciousness to
unload their diverse and complex merchandise, but not let in. They will
soon grow impatient, irritated and angry. If unrelated to, they might
possibly become violent, as the soul-food they are bringing is spoiled,
having incubated for too long in the womb of the shadow.”
QUOTATION 2: “‘Honor your father and mother’ is a commandment that

damages us greatly according to the well-known child psychologist Alice
Miller in her book The Body Never Lies. Her point is that this
commandment has become so literal and so ingrained in our social system
of moral values that it causes us to automatically repress our feelings about
our parents, blame ourselves for their failures and seek to forgive and
reconcile rather than seek out the truth of our own experiences. From a
Jungian position this cultural attitude makes us feel we are judging them
rather than searching for the truth of our own reality.”
QUOTATION 3: “If we need to cure, fight, defeat, overcome, or even

correct a complex we have made it into an enemy and are losing the value
in it. Of course, this kind of thinking is counter-cultural. It negates our ideas
of control, rationality, curing and to some extent alleviating human misery.
But, if we take the Jungian position of accepting it, which doesn’t mean
embracing it, we immediately gain some distance from it which opens
many doors as to how to relate to it.”
QUOTATION 4: “In individuation we ground ourselves in the part of the

feminine, Eros, that is relational and feeling, that comes from the heart.
And, we learn that our inner relationships are the foundation for our outer
ones, as well as our relationship to life and the Divine. It is how we accept
ourselves, find the courage to sacrifice our self-images again and again in
order to relate to our complexes and find the promise of an enlarged life that
actually frees us from our past and self-defeating habits.”

As we conclude, there are several additional questions I would like to ask you:
1. What surprised you the most about this experience?
2. What moved or inspired you the most?
In closing, I would like to say that whenever we choose to work

through a complex, we are transforming a force that has been diminishing
us...that has been contributing to our feelings of smallness, impotence, and
helplessness. The result is that we have less need to feel powerful, inflated,
and superior or to take refuge in idealism and formality. Let us make this
choice because it opens us to the fullest experiences of life and love.
RESOURCES
C. G. Jung Resources
Jung, C. G. (1954) The Collected Works. Trans. by R. F. C. Hull and ed. by
H. Read, M. Fordham, G. Adler, and W. McGuire. Bollingen Series
XX (vols. 2, 5, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 18) Princeton: Princeton University
Press.
———. Studies in Word Association. (Vol. 2)
———. Symbols of Transformation. (Vol. 5)
———. The Relations between the Ego and the Unconscious. (Vol. 7)
———. The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche. (Vol. 8)
———. A Review of the Complex Theory. (Vol. 8)
———. Psychological Aspects of the Mother Archetype. (Vol. 9i)
———. The Spiritual Problem of Modern Man; The Undiscovered Self.
Civilization in Transition. (Vol. 10)
———. Psychotherapists or the Clergy; Answer to Job. Religion: West and
East (Vol. 11)
———. Commentary on The Secret of the Golden Flower. Alchemical
Studies. (Vol. 13)
———. Rex and Regina. Mysterium Coniunctionis. (Vol. 14)
———. The Tavistock Lectures; The Symbolic Life; Adaptation,
Individuation, Collectivity. The Symbolic Life. (Vol. 18)
———. (1933) Modern Man in Search of a Soul. Trans. by W. S. Dell and
Cary F. Baynes. New York: Harcourt, Brace and Company
———. (1961) Memories, Dreams, Reflections. Recorded and edited by A.
Jaffe. New York: Vintage
———. (1964) (Conceived and edited.) Man and His Symbols. New York:
Doubleday
———. (1976) C. G. Jung Letters, Vol. I and II. London: Routledge and
Kegan
———. (1988) Nietzsche’s Zarathustra: Notes on the Seminar in 1934-
1939. Princeton: Bollingen Series
General Resources
Campbell, J. (1968) The Hero with a Thousand Faces. New York:
Princeton
———. ed. (1968) The Mystic Vision: Papers from the Eranos Yearbooks.
Princeton: Princeton University Press
———. (1990) Transformation of Myth Through Time. New York: Harper
&Row
Davies, Robertson. (1996) The Merry Heart: Reflections on Reading,
Writing and the World of Books. New York: Penguin
De Castillejo, I. C. (1973) Knowing Woman. New York: Putnam
Dieckmann, H. (1999) Complexes: Diagnosis and Therapy in Analytical
Psychology. Trans. by Boris Mathews. Evanston: Chiron
Edinger, E. (1972) Ego and Archetype. New York: Penguin Books
———. (1984) The Creation of Consciousness: Jung’s Myth for Modern
Man. Toronto: Inner City
Eliade, M. (1958) Rites and Symbols of Initiation. New York: Harper &
Row, Torch Books
———. (1987) Encyclopedia of Religion. New York: MacMillan
Fromm, E. (1995) The Essential Fromm: Life Between Having and Being.
ed. R. Funk. New York: Continuum
Harris, B. (2002) Sacred Selfishness: A Guide to Living a Life of Substance.
San Francisco: New World Library
———. (2007) The Fire and the Rose: The Wedding of Spirituality and
Sexuality. Evanston: Chiron
Hillman, J. (1967). Insearch: Psychology and Religion. Dallas Spring
Publications
Huxley, A. The Perennial Philosophy: An Interpretation of the Great
Mystics, East and West. New York: Harper Collins
Jacobi, J. (1971) Complex/Archetype/Symbol. New York: Bollingen
Jaffe, A. (1984) The Myth of Meaning in the Work of C. G. Jung. Zurich:
Daimon
Johnson, Robert A. (1986) Inner Work: Using Dreams and Active
Imagination for Personal Growth. San Francisco: Harper and Row
Kast, V. (1977) Father/Daughter, Mother/Son. Rockport: Elements.
Lewis, T., F. Amin, R. Lannon. (2000) A General Theory of Love. New
York: Vintage
Luke, H. M. (1988) The Voice Within: Love and Virtue in the Age of the
Spirit. New York: Crossroads
Mattoon, M. (1981) Jungian Psychology in Perspective. New York: The
Free Press
Neumann, E. (1944) The Origins and History of Consciousness. Trans. by
Ralph Mannheim. New York: Pantheon
Neumann, N. (1989) The Place of Creation. Princeton: Princeton
University Press
Paz, O. (1990) The Other Voice: Essays on Modern Poetry. Trans. by H.
Lane. New York: Harcourt
Rilke, R. M. (1975) Rilke on Love and other Difficulties. Trans. by J. J. L.
Mood. New York: Norton
———. (1984) Letters to a Young Poet. Trans. by S. Mitchell. New York:
Random House
Shalit, E. (2002) The Complex: Path of Transformation from Archetype to
Ego. Toronto: Inner City
———. (2008) Enemy, Cripple and Beggar: Shadows in the Hero’s Path.
San Francisco: Fisher King
Underhill, E. (1999) Mysticism: The Nature and Development of Spiritual
Consciousness. Oxford: One World Publications
Von Franz, Marie-Louise. (1978) An Introduction to the Psychology of
Fairy Tales, 4th edition. Dallas, TX: Spring
Whitmont, E. G. (1969) The Symbolic Quest: Basic Concepts of Analytical
Psychology. Princeton: Princeton University Press
Woodman, M., K. Danson, M. Hamilton, R. Allen. (1992) Leaving My
Father’s House: A Journey to Conscious Femininity. Boston:
Shambala
Author’s Bio
Bud Harris, Ph.D., as a Jungian analyst, writer, and

lecturer, has dedicated his life to helping people
grow through their challenges and life situations
into becoming “the best versions of themselves.”
Bud originally became a businessman in the
corporate world and then owned his own business.
Though very successful, he began to search for a
new version of himself and life when, at age 35, he
became dissatisfied with his accomplishments in
business and challenged by serious illness in his
family. At this point, Bud returned to graduate
school to become a psychotherapist. After earning his Ph.D. in psychology
and practicing as a psychotherapist and psychologist, he experienced the
call to further his growth and become a Jungian analyst. He then moved to
Zurich, Switzerland where he trained for over five years and graduated
from the C. G. Jung Institute. Bud is the author of thirteen informing and
inspiring books. He writes and teaches with his wife, Jungian analyst,
Massimilla Harris, Ph.D., and lectures widely. Bud and Massimilla both
practice as Jungian analysts in Asheville, North Carolina. For more
information about his practice and work, visit: www.budharris.com or
https://www.facebook.com/BudHarrisPh.D.
A Note of Thanks
Whether you received Becoming Whole: A Jungian Guide to Individuation

as a gift, borrowed it from a friend or purchased it yourself, we’re glad you
read it. We think that Bud Harris is a refreshing, challenging and inspiring
voice and we hope you will share this book and his thoughts with your
family and friends. If you would like to learn more about Bud Harris, Ph.D.
and his work, please visit: www.budharris.com or
https://www.facebook.com/BudHarrisPh.D.

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BECOMING WHOLE

Also by Bud Harris, Ph.D.

Aging Strong: Living It Forward and Giving It Back

The Search for Self and the Search for God

Cracking Open: A Memoir of Struggling, Passages, and Transformations

Sacred Selfishness: A Guide to Living a Life of Substance

The Father Quest: Rediscovering an Elemental Force

Resurrecting the Unicorn: Masculinity in the 21st Century

Coauthored with Massimilla Harris, Ph.D.:

Like Gold Through Fire: Understanding the Transforming Power of Suffering

DR. BUD HARRIS, PH.D.

DAPHNE PUBLICATIONS • ASHEVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA

DAPHNE PUBLICATIONS, AN IMPRINT OF SPES, INC.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016911457

Harris, Clifton T. Bud

Interior Layout by Susan Yost

Bud Harris, Ph.D.

– C. G. JUNG, C. W. VOL. 18, PARA. 270

W hen I began my reflections in preparation for this lecture I

The Spirit of Individuation

Living the Questions

Finding the Home Within

Questions to Expand Our Understanding

2. Did anything surprise you in this section?

W hen I opened my lecture, “The Promise in Jung’s Legacy and Why

Questions to Expand Our Understanding

2. What is your emotional response to it?

As I continued, I also explained—and I think this point is a very

I. The Quest for Consciousness and Living a Life with Soul.

Living a Life of Soul

THE RIGHT RELATIONSHIP WITH DEPTH

Questions to Expand Our Understanding

2. How do you think it can be relevant to your life right now?

Dangers in This Process of Turning Inward

3. Ego takes over—unconscious and Self lose their position as “not I”

Understanding Our Biggest Danger—The Collective Shadow

3. How it emphasizes our obligations and duties

Questions to Expand Our Understanding

2. How do you understand them or what do you think about them?

A Struggle Between our Values, Obligations, and the Call for

The Soul Contract

The Map of Stage One in the Individuation Process

The Map of Stage One in the Individuation Process

2. Freedom from Our Dependency Needs

3. Transform Major Complexes

4. Freedom from World Parents

1. Freedom from our parents—our mother and father complexes

EXPERIENCING THE SUPPORT OF THE SELF

II. The Path of Individuation and

Questions to Expand Our Understanding

EGO AND SHADOW

As we develop psychological maturity, the problem we run into is that

“Creating the book also led Jung to reformulate how he worked

Questions to Expand Our Understanding

In summary, knowing our shadow is to become aware of the parts of

Two Paths to Knowing Our Shadows

Two Paths to Knowing Our Shadows

a. Note the irrational strength of our feeling about someone.

2. Consider this quotation: