Dream Remedies: Music and PsycheJerusalem Stone: A Confession of Faith in StoneBricolage: Psyche’s Eco-healing AgentThe Archetypal Field of LeadershipThe Role and Value of Dreams in a Post-Apocalyptic FutureMore Depth Psychology Articles, Essays, and Poetry

“Surrender”~ Artwork by Jane Johnston

INSIDE THIS ISSUE

Spring 2013

D E P T H I N S I G H T SS e e i n g t h e W o r l d W i t h S o u l

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

Poetry by Catherine Baumgartner, Laurie Corzett, Kathryn LaFevers Evans, SharonGalliford, Hadley Fitzgerald, Dennis Slattery, Brian Tracy, Thali Bower Williams

Art by Linda Ravenswood

Cover Art by Jane Johnston

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Dream Remedies: Music and PsycheBy Travis Wernet

Jerusalem Stone: A Confession ofFaith in StoneBy Aviva Lev-David (Joseph)

Bricolage: Psyche’s Eco-healingAgentBy April Heaslip

The Archetypal Field of LeadershipBy Sylvia Behrend

A Horizon in Every Direction:Engaging the Soul of the GreatPlains and the Smoky Hill TrailBy Carla Paton

Dreams in the Talmud and in DepthPsychologyBy Susan Vorhand

The Role and Value of Dreams in aPost-Apocalyptic FutureBy Paco Mitchell

About this Issue

Table of Contents

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On the cover: “Surrender” by Jane Johnston:A ritual mandala 2 feet in diameter, paintedin gouache with 000 size brushes over a 15month period

This version of“Surrender” is professionally photographed by: Rob d'Estrubé OF DESTRUBEPHOTOGRAPHY

Read comments from the artist, Jane Johnston

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Depth Insights, Issue 4

PublisherDepth Insights, a Media Partner for Depth Psychology Alliance

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Note: Opinions expressed by the authors contained in this issue do not necessarily reflect those ofDepth Insights or its editors, publisher, or representative. Copyright of content remains with theauthors & artists. Copyright of the eZine & design belongs to Depth Insights ™. No part of this publica-tion may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written permission from the publisher.

When we refer to something as cru-cial, we usually mean that we have arrivedat the crux of a matter, a decisive point intime where paths cross and diverge, andoutcomes are decided. This is where weare today—living through a crucial time inhistory, facing the crux of what it is to behuman on this planet, standing at a cross-roads, making choices that will determineoutcomes well into the future.

But the basis upon which we makethose choices cannot continue unchal-lenged—the very basis of how we under-stand ourselves must change. Otherwise,we will simply follow the same tracks thathave led us to the problems we presentlyface. But how are we to reach a differentunderstanding, and on what basis? If thefoundation of our awareness remainsunchanged, is anything really different?

This is where the immense value ofdepth psychology comes into play. Anyunderstanding of ourselves and the world,that seriously takes into account theobjective reality of the psyche, the mys-tery of the unconscious and the vast cre-ativity of dreams, can potentially lead usto a revision, even a re-birth, of the epis-temological ground beneath our feet. Theboundaries of our definitions of what isreal and true may be expanded, revital-ized.

Cont’d on page 37

Rebecca PottengerSiona van DijkSusanne DuttonTish Signet

From the Editor

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There may be more of a connectionbetween music and the depths of

our being than we previously realized.Jung made an interesting comment insupport of this notion when Meg Tillyinvited him to listen to her piano playingand witness her approach to music thera-py. Tilly apparently felt that incorporationof music into Analytical Psychology wouldbe of benefit, and sought to influenceJung on this matter. She was invited toKüsnacht after contacting Jung to shareher method with him. In regards to theexperience, he remarked, “Music is deal-ing with such deep archetypal materialand those who play don’t realize this. Yet,used therapeutically from this level,music should be an essential part ofevery analysis. [It] expresses in soundswhat fantasies and visions express in visu-al images … music represents movement,development and transformation ofmotifs of the collective unconscious.” 1

From a depth view of psyche, weknow that dreams, too, present a reliabletouchstone for accessing the uncon-scious. To invite the energies of the soulto speak to us through dreaming, we mayyearn to cultivate ways of bringing ourimaginations alive. Just rememberingdreams has a potent effect on our wakingexperience, but practice shows this isn’tenough. As any number of engaged, livingstudies of dreams show, our nightlysojourns provide us with missing keys toourselves, and a larger life. They also pro-vide us with a wealth of practical prompt-ings towards wellness and a depth ofunderstanding. Dreams have even beenshown to speak towards finding our placewithin the ecology of the Earth in theirinvitations to recognize the inter-connect-edness of all things: “Our dreams carry usbeyond the limits of our ordinary distinc-tions and categorizations to reveal thatwe are indeed part of a web of being thatexpands in many different directions.” 2For this and so many other reasons, we’ddo well to develop further ways to workand play with dreams, to foster a spacefor the imaginal in our lives.

When one thinks of the bare necessi-

ties for survival, essentials such as food,shelter, water, clean air, and sleep aretantamount. It can be said that just asvital to survival is the cultivation of imagi-nation—the art of dreaming. Even themost conservative dream researchersagree that dreaming serves the functionof taking us through certain scenarios ofexperience to ‘rehearse’ up-comingevents which we need to learn or prac-tice. Indigenous cultures, like theAustralian Aboriginal and North AmericanIroquois Peoples (among others), haveunderstood for ages that dreams come tohelp us learn about what’s ahead, in life-sustaining ways. In a paradoxical twist ofmodernity, it seems that science and theold spiritual teachings have the potentialto wrap around at the ends, during ourtime, to conjoin and agree—if not on pre-cise meanings or applications, at least ona general sense of shared purpose foroptimum survival.

Inherent to a full-blooded vitality isrelating to the realm of the creative. For,what can come into existence that hasn’tfirst been dreamt up? Who among uswould choose to live without music, forexample, that most universal of healingbalms? Whether we know it or not, we allhear several kinds of music every day.The birds singing their wake-up songs inthe early morn, the wind blowing throughthe tree branches, a loved one’s voice intender conversation, even the wildcacophony of traffic outside—all of theseand more form a soundtrack to our liveswhich we synchronize with. We also sur-round ourselves with composed music ina variety of settings. Even deaf folks enjoy

and are affected by the vibrations insound, the under-pinning hum of life, asthe rhythms and melodies of the ‘musicof the spheres’ sneak past certain limitslike a canny breeze through a door crack.

There are many ways to support thevital sense of our dreams. One that I findmost useful is the invocation of medita-tive music and trance-inducing sounds astools for enriching dreaming. Music is aportal for soul, heart and mind to con-nect—within waves and images, withinand beyond language, across time andspace.

As already mentioned, several ancient‘dreaming cultures’ have tended the rela-tionship between music and dreams. Ithas even been said that music can be abridge to dreaming, and vice versa. InWhy the World Doesn’t End, storytellerand mythologist Michael Meade remindsus how, in one of the old NativeAmerican folk-myths, the creation-originof medicine is found in a story about theFirst People going out into the dark nightof the soul, to the four corners of exis-tence, to learn how to pray, chant, singand drum.3 These mythic First People gointo deep night and are affected by thewild discovery that these activities arelike the living roots of a great and vitaltree containing a flowing green sap ofwisdom and wholeness. Like dreamerswho seek and receive healing when thesun has descended into the Underworld(as ancient Egyptians imagined nightfall intheir mythos), these first seekers wentout to the darkest part of the night toreceive as yet unknown remedies forwellbeing.

As Marina Roseman has shown, theTemiar people of Malay are knowndreamers who intentionally dream tolearn songs from healing spirits.4 Theirs isa culture in which dreams must be enact-ed to music for the rest of the village,where great medicine comes from experi-ences in dreams, as well as from thedreamers’ responsive actions, and bothdreams and dreamers come together inan imaginatively true way within the day-world of outer events. Not only does such

Dream Remedies Music and Psyche

By Travis Wernet

“Music is a portal forsoul, heart and mind toconnect—within waves

and images, within andbeyond language,

across time and space.”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

3

a practice show powerful transformation-al effects flowing from dreams involvingmusic and sound, it also bespeaks a vividcreative practice for honoring the “visionsof the night”. This life-way shines forth atremendously helpful cultural embodi-ment for waking and dreaming life withits diverse mélange of actions wherebypeople seek to unite with their authenticselves, the spirits and each other.

The ancient Greeks also incorporatedaspects of sound, music and theatre,while engaging the transformative pow-ers in dreams at the ancient healing sanc-tuaries of Asclepius, the God of Healing.C.A. Meier, a colleague of Jung’s, hascommented on this: “It is quite clear fromPlato that musical and poetic competi-tions on a large scale took place at theAsclepieia… The particularly large the-aters in the sanctuaries are further evi-dence of the importance attached to theinfluence of music in the ancient ritualhealing.”5 Meier’s words show that arelationship existed between music andmedicine amongst the ancestors of west-ern civilization and that it was deeplyunderstood that the influence of suchcreative interweaving helpfully affecteddreamers seeking wellness at these sanc-tuaries.

I have witnessed the potency of musi-cal dream incubation where groups ofdreamers during retreats have beenencouraged to seek dreams while listen-ing to special instruments, including thedidjeridu, Tibetan bowls and NativeAmerican flutes. In these workshops anddepth ceremonies, we often start with anevening of Sound Healing. Invitingdreams through listening to music isencouraged. We do this at night, justbefore folks go to their dreaming. On oneoccasion, a woman in our group entereddeeply—albeit skeptically, at first—intothe musical meditation. Upon returningto share journeys the next morning, thisdreamer reported having received a pow-erful dream, which we re-imaginedtogether. While working with the narra-tive, it became clear that the furthermeanings of her dream had to do withclear promptings to go ahead with aquestionable surgery. This woman fol-lowed through on the implied actionsspringing from the dream and our workwith it. She later underwent a successfulmedical procedure that greatly affectedher overall health and wellbeing. Dreamsworked with powerful intention often

support these kinds of results.Music can provide powerful ways for

augmenting the living energies pouringthrough us during our dreams. As Jungsaid, music can help us transform withthe energies of the unconscious. Thesemodes of vibrancy, through sound, canenhance and enrich the playful, serious

work we do while honoring the memoryof our mythopoetic travels in the realmsof the human imagination. Working withthese and other instruments, as well asthe voice, can help us transcend andinclude the limits of spoken languageswhich often make it difficult to describeand feel the energy and reality of ourdreaming adventures. Entering theseinvisible layers of sound, we stimulatedeep sense perceptions and feelingsources within us that draw upon surpris-ing sources other than, but in addition to,the intellect. In this way we are affectedby the intonations of tapestries woven indreams and visionary planes. The audiblehum and tonality of music can alsoinspire us to discover our best words—

the poetry we desire for describing expe-riences that occur inside such a space ofresonance where what we hear is accom-panied by the silence that is part of anymusical quest.

Notes1 Claire Dunne, Carl Jung, Wounded

Healer of the Soul, (WatkinsPublishing, London, 2012), p.220.

2 Kelly Bulkely, Visions of the Night,(State University of New York Press,Albany, 1999) p. 45.

3Michael Meade, Why the World Doesn’tEnd, Tales of Renewal in Times ofLoss, (Green Fire Press, an imprint ofMosaic Multicultural Foundation,2012).

4Marina Roseman, Healing Sounds fromthe Malaysian Rainforest, (Universityof California Press, Berkeley, LosAngeles, Oxford, 1991).

5 C.A. Meier, Healing Dream and Ritual,Ancient Incubation and ModernPsychotherapy, (Daimon Verlag,2009), p. 73.

Travis Wernet is a certified MIPD DreamWorker & Musician. He has traveled toEgypt offering ceremonies usingDidjeridu, Flutes and Tibetan Bowls. Heleads dream groups in Northern Californiaand his most recent musical release is'Yoro Yoro'.

“As Jung said, musiccan help us transformwith the energies of the unconscious.”

Dream Remedies: Music and Psyche

<Back to TOCDepth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

4

Jung began to build his house inBollingen, Switzerland, in 1923, atthe age of forty-eight. He continuedbuilding this solitary retreat well into hisold age. What was the impulse behindthis significant endeavor? What inspiredJung to invest this much time and energyin building the tower, as he called it?“Words and paper did not seem realenough to me” he says in his autobiogra-phy. He clarifies,

To put my fantasies on solid footingsomething more was needed. I hadto achieve a kind of representation instone of my innermost thoughts andof the knowledge I had acquired. Putanother way, I had to make a confes-sion of faith in stone. That was thebeginning of the tower, the house Ibuilt for myself at Bollingen. (1963, p.212, my emphasis)

At first glance, Jung’s drive to build thetower, as described above, appears to becentered on his desire to sculpt psycheinto matter; to place his developingknowledge on solid ground; to root theineffable reality of psyche in the perma-nence of stone. In reading this, one mightget the impression that Jung regardedstone merely as a solid object, a canvasfor his unconscious projections involvinga unilateral movement from Jung’s psy-che to the receptive and neutral groundof stone. This understanding, however, isa very limited and limiting view of a farmore complex and rich relationshipbetween Jung and stone. In this paper Iwill attempt to explore Jung’s confessionof faith in stone as a pointer to a relation-ship with stone full of mystery. Later I willlook at this mystery as expressed in leg-ends of and lived experiences inJerusalem.

A life-long relationship was createdbetween Jung and stone. When Jung wasabout six, he would often find himselfalone playing an imaginary game whilesitting down on a stone that he affection-ately called ‘my stone.’ The game wouldgo something like this:

I am sitting on top of this stone andit is underneath. But the stone also

could say ‘I’ and think: ‘I am lyinghere on this slope and he is sitting ontop of me.’ The question then arose:‘Am I the one who is sitting on thestone, or am I the stone on which heis sitting?’ This question always per-plexed me, and I would stand up,wondering who was what now. Theanswer remained totally unclear, andmy uncertainty was accompanied bya feeling of curious and fascinatingdarkness. But there was no doubtwhatsoever that this stone stood insome secret relationship to me. Icould sit on it for hours, fascinatedby the puzzle it set me. (1963, p. 33)

From an early age Jung saw in stonesomething more than a lifeless object,unintelligent and passive. He imaginedthe stone to have an “I,” an enigmaticidentity somehow related to him. As wesee above, he had “no doubt whatsoev-er” that the stone stood in some secretrelationship to him and that a mysterywas unfolding through their connection.In Jung’s cosmology no element in naturewas devoid of numinosity, a divine orspiritual quality inherent in visibleobjects. He says, ”What I had dimly felt tobe my kinship with the stone was thedivine nature in both, in the dead and liv-ing matter.” When later in life he beganto explore the ancient practice of alche-my, the stone received yet a more pro-found meaning as the ‘Philosopher’sStone’—the culmination of the alchemicalopus. Jung’s fascination and enthrallmentwith the mystery of stone is unquestion-able. In speaking of the alchemical tradi-tion, he argued, “The stone containedand at the same time was the bottomless

mystery of being, the embodiment ofspirit” (1963, p. 90).

In 1950 Jung received an unexpectedvisitor to his Bollingen house. It was asquare stone instead of the triangularstone ordered. The dimensions of thestone were also much larger than antici-pated. It apparently arrived at his houseby mistake. When the masons wereabout to take the stone back Jung insist-ed, “No, that is my stone. I must have it!”(1963, p. 226). In recognition of his sev-enty-fifth birthday he carved it as a mon-ument to express what the tower meantto him. When working with the stone,Jung reports that something unexpectedoccurred. “I began to see on the frontface, in the natural structure of the stone,a small circle, a sort of eye, which lookedat me…. I chiseled it into the stone, andin the center made a tiny homunculus[corresponding] … to yourself—which yousee in the pupil of another’s eye” (p.226). And later, when working on thethird face of the stone, Jung surrenderedeven further to the unfolding mystery let-ting “the stone itself speak, as it were” (p. 227).

Jung’s confession of faith in stonecould be seen as a bold, pantheistic state-ment moving us beyond the limitingviews of a narrow modern rational para-digm, arguing on behalf of an experienceof stone as ensouled with divine, expres-sive intelligence. Jung’s cosmologyexpands from the stone to include theworld at large. He says, “Nothing couldpersuade me that the saying ‘in theimage of God’ applied only to man. Infact, it seemed to me that the high moun-tains, the rivers, lakes, trees, flowers andanimals far better exemplified theessence of God than men... “ (1963, p.45). Jung laments the loss of this under-standing and our loss of experiencing theworld this way,

No voices now speak to man fromstones . . . nor does he speak to thembelieving they can hear. His contactwith nature has gone, and with it hasgone the profound emotional energythat this symbolic connection sup-plied. (1968, p. 85)

“What I had dimlyfelt to be my kinshipwith the stone was the divine nature inboth, in the dead and living matter.”

Jerusalem Stone A Confession of Faith in Stone

By Aviva Lev-David

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

5

Jung continued to brood on this“symbolic connection” throughout hislife. According to Jung, a symbol always“hint[s] at a hidden, vague or unknownmeaning” (1976, ¶416), so that when itbecomes fully known and explained, it isno longer a symbol but a sign. A symbolicconnection dies when it is no longer asignpost for “the bottomless mystery ofbeing,” and all that remains is merely theobject, the signpost.

A connection between people andstone has been alive in the imaginal andphysical life of Jerusalem for centuries.As a modern Jewish woman who grew upin Jerusalem I wondered: how mightJung’s understanding of a symbolic con-nection between people and stone illu-minate certain underlying dynamics inJerusalem today?

The British government, who ruledJerusalem from 1917 to 1947, made apowerful gesture when they put into lawthat all buildings had to be faced withJerusalem stone, a local form of lime-stone with an exceptionally warm, gold-en hue. The rule remains in effect to thisday. The stone is an extraordinary mate-rial, rich and textured and almost magicalin the glow of dawn and dusk. It cantransform even the most mediocre archi-tecture into a striking place of harmonywith the whole city. Jerusalem and stoneseem to go hand in hand, not onlybecause of the abundance of stone inJerusalem, but also because of the mean-ingful connections between people andstone in Jerusalem since its foundation.

One of the most profound illustra-tions of the symbolic connectionbetween people and stone in Jerusalemcan be located in a place known inHebrew as the Temple Mount and inArabic, Noble Sanctuary, at the heart ofthe old city. In the center of this largearea is a rock, which has been covered

with a dome since the 7th century, henceits popular name, The Dome of the Rock.The rock carries an impressive biographyin both Jewish and Muslim traditions.According to ancient Jewish myths theworld was woven out from this point,The Foundation Stone, the navel of theworld. On this stone, it is said, Abrahamsacrificed his son, Isaac, according to theTorah, and Ishmael, according to theQuran. A Jewish legend also claims thisto be the place where Jacob rested hishead and dreamed of the angels going

up and down a ladder. Furthermore,Jewish tradition holds to this day, thatthis rock was the site of the Holy ofHolies at the center of the HebrewTemple where the Ark of the Covenantwas placed.

Many Muslim traditions acknowledgethe extraordinary legacy of the rock inthe heart of Jerusalem. According to alegend recorded in 1887,

when Muhammad… rode toJerusalem astride his marvelousmare [in his dream,] he perceivedthe Foundation Stone in the[Hebrew] Temple, and recalled allthat had befallen it… The sight of theRock roused his emotions and hecried out with fervor: ‘Salem Aleik YaSakhrat Allah’—peace be unto you,Rock of Allah! Upon seeingMuhammad and hearing his bene-diction, the Rock, too, was seizedwith emotion; it put forth from itselfa tongue and said: ‘Salam Aleik YaRassul Allah’—Peace be unto you,messenger of Allah! (Vilnai, 1973, p.20-21)

Another beautiful Muslim legend, writtenin 1866, speaks of the amicable relation-ship between the foundation stone andthe Ka’aba, a black rock found in Mecca,considered the most sacred place toIslam. According to this legend,

The rock of the [Hebrew] Temple isone of the stones of the Garden ofEden. At resurrection day, theKa’aba stone, which is in holyMecca, will go to the FoundationStone in holy Jerusalem, bringingwith it the inhabitants of Mecca, andit shall become joined to theFoundation Stone. When theFoundation Stone shall see theKa’aba stone approaching, it shallcry out: ‘Peace be to the greatguest!’ (Vilnai, 1973, p. 18-19)

Stone and Jerusalem are linked in apowerful bond. Yehudah Amichai, one ofIsrael’s national poets, whose intimateconnection to Jerusalem is well known,says in a poem: “Jerusalem stone is theonly stone that can feel pain. It has a net-work of nerves” (1992, p. 51). This con-nection also comes to life when readingIsraeli Geographer Zeev Vilnai’s (1973)“Legends of Jerusalem,” one of the bestcollections of legends about the city. It isastounding that more than half of thelegends in the book relate to stone. TheWestern Wall, for instance, a stone wallsupporting the platform on which thesecond Hebrew Temple was built,appears in many old and newer legends.The wall and the stones comprising it arefrequently perceived in the stories asactive participants in an ensouled world.The stones often have a voice, emotionsand purpose. One event, recorded in1920, was well known among the Jews ofJerusalem at the time.

The Wailing Wall is also called TheWall of Weeping or The Wall ofTears, for in front of this last rem-nant of the Great Temple, Jews fromall parts of the world came to lamentand shed tears over their past gloryand present desolation. On the night[that commemorates] the destruc-tion of the Temple, the ninth day ofthe month of Ab, as on most sum-mer evenings, the stones of the wallare covered with small drops of dew.The simple folk say that the wall par-ticipates in the sorrow of the people,and cries bitter tears with them. Oneparticular night in 1840 stands out. Itis told that when the worshipersstood in front of the wall pouringout their sorrowful hearts, they sud-denly discovered small rushes ofwater oozing out between thecracks. They cried out: ‘The wall isweeping. The wall is crying’ (Vilnai,1973, p. 169).

One can hear in the way the legend isrecorded a modern attitude attemptingto rationally explain a phenomenon thatwas experienced by the people, calledhere ‘simple folk,’ as a mysterious rela-tionship with stone. Was the wall crying?Was there dew dripping from thestones? Synchronicity allows for oppositedimensions, physical phenomena andpsychic experience, to correspond in ana-causal way. We can rest with the leg-

“How might Jung’s understanding of a symbolic connectionbetween people and

stone il luminate certainunderlying dynamics in

Jerusalem today?”

<Back to TOC

Jerusalem Stone

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

6

end and with the mysterious symbolicconnection between people and stone,right where our inner life meets the outerworld. The word symbol, from the Greeksyn+bole, points to its purpose: the weav-ing of things thrown together. A symbol isbipolar. It has a peculiar nature that con-nects and integrates polarities such asinner and outer fields of experience, orthat which can be represented and thatwhich is irrepresentable. A symbol servesas a mediator between the physical andpsychological, the conscious and theunconscious, the personal and the cultural.

One of the areas containing rich sym-bolic meaning in Jewish heritage concernsthe priesthood and their rituals. Thepriests were a direct patrilineal descentfrom Aaron, Moses’ brother, who per-formed various rituals in the JerusalemTemple. For many centuries, every gener-ation chose a priest to carry the holy taskof being the high priest. The High priestwould wear very unique vestmentsdescribed in exceptional detail in theTorah. Two of the three pieces he woreinvolved stones. The Choshen Mishpatwas a breastplate with 12 stones imprint-

ed with the names of the 12 tribes ofIsrael. These stones are described as aliveand possessing a direct connection withthe Divine. When a decision had to bemade, the high priest would consult thestones, which would ‘speak’ to him. Since

all the letters of the alphabet wereinscribed on the stones, the responsewould unfold by letters being lit througha mysterious source of light and, togeth-er, the letters would form words and sen-tences. The breastplate also included twomore stones called, Urim Vetumim. Thesestones also served as part of the oracle.

Their use and meaning is covered withsecrecy and not much is known aboutthem. The Breastplate of Justice, as it wasfully called, was worn by the high priestabove the heart, on top of the ephod. Theephod was an elaborate garment worn bythe high priest. There were two engravedstones over the shoulder straps, possiblymade from Malachite. These stones werecalled “memorial stones”. The ephodtogether with the memorial stones com-bined to activate the oracle of theBreastplate of Justice (Exodus 28).

The priestly work in the HebrewTemple ceased after the exile of the Jewsand the destruction of the Temple inJerusalem by the Romans in 70 CE. TheTemple is no longer standing and no highpriest wears the ephod or the breast-plate. The oracle stones don’t speak to usany more. It is worth repeating Jung’swords, “No voices now speak to manfrom stones nor does he speak to them,believing they can hear. His contact withnature has gone, and with it has gone theprofound emotional energy that this sym-bolic connection supplied“ (1968, p. 85).A symbol is alive “only as long as it is

Aviva Lev-David

“The oracle stones don’tspeak to us any more.It is worth repeatingJung’s words, “No

voices now speak toman from stones nor

does he speak to them,believing they can hear”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

7

pregnant with meaning” (in Jacobi, p. 97),related to an unknown and hiddendimension of experience. When a symbolis fully explained, that is, flattened out,rationalized, and understood, we nolonger speak of a symbol but of a sign ordogma. With the loss of this emotionalenergy we also lost some kind of guid-ance and wisdom.

Though the ephod is no longer con-nected to the work of the Temple, theuse of the word did not disappear. It livesin the shadows. When you ask any Israelitoday to identify an ephod they will pointyou to the army uniform: in ModernHebrew ephod refers to a soldier’s vest.What once was connected with life andvision is now connected with death anddivision. The garment that used to storelife-giving knowledge now stores lethalammunition. Stones turned into weapon.Symbol turned into symptom. Stones inthe hands of Palestinian children, menand women, as they throw them at Israelisoldiers who are shooting back becamean emblem of the conflict in the area. Inthis context, stones, like their moderncounterpart, bullets, are no longer sym-bolic of connection but have become asign, a symptom of a bloody conflict, anendless cycle of violence.

I find a disturbing yet poetic relation-ship between the act of throwing stonesand the word “symbol”. When we omitthe prefix ‘syn’ meaning ‘together’ fromthe word, symbol, we are left with theGreek root ‘bole’, which means to throw,to throw so as to hit. The Latin ‘ballista’,the ancient military machine for hurlingstones comes from the same root, as wellas ballistics, the study of the firing, flight,and effects of ammunition. The loss of‘syn’ in a symbol reveals the loss of theunderstanding of our interdependencewith everyone and everything around us;it is the loss of the connective tissue thatbinds self-other-world. The symbol andthe symbolic perception as a mediatingfield that can hold the tension of oppo-sites, has been in exile for a long time. Ido think, however, that we are graduallybeginning to re-member our world.

I would like to finish this article with adream I had while working on it. In thedream I stand in a low place with my backagainst a very big rock, maybe 15-20 feethigh. There are others with me. Aroundus extends a desert, which reminds me ofthe Judean desert surrounding Jerusalem.

A caravan comes through and a mansteps down from his horse and comesdown towards me. He touches the rocklightly, with exceptional care and gentle-ness. He seems to be caressing it. I won-der what might he be trying to achieve. Ithink to myself, “With such little effort onhis part, surely nothing will happen.”Suddenly I see a small silver knob thatwas not there before, coming out of therock. In that moment everyone panicsand starts running frantically up the roadand up the hill. They shout at me, “Theflood is coming, the flood is coming.”

Without thinking much, I followeveryone and begin to escape, but I findit increasingly difficult to walk, every stepfeeling heavier than the one before.While walking up the hill I stop and askmyself, “Where is the flood? Are we real-ly threatened by a flood?” Then I wakeup. In the morning I worked with thedream and realized that the small silverknob looked like a radio dial. I wondered:Was the rock trying to communicatesomething with us? Was I being shown adial so I can find an appropriate frequen-cy to hear it?

In my active imagination I dreamedthe dream forward. Back in the dream, tothe dismay of the people around me,who are still running away from a flood, Iturn around, and I walk down and sit bythe rock. I sit there in attentive silence fora long time. I don’t know where this con-nection with the stone will lead but I feelcompelled to stay there. And I trust thatsomething will emerge out of this preg-nant, meaningful moment. It’s an enigma,a riddle, a mysterious relationship. It’s aconfession of faith in stone.

Notes

Amichai, Y. (1996). The selected poetry ofYehudah Amichai. Ch. Bloch & S. Mitchell (Eds.& Trans). Berkeley, CA: University of CaliforniaPress. Jung, C. G. (1963). Memories, Dreams,Reflections. New York, NY: Vintage BooksJung, C. G. (1976). The Symbolic Life:Miscellaneous Writings. In G. Adler (Ed.). TheCollected Works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull,Trans.) (Vol. 18). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. (Original work pub-lished 1950Jung, C. G. (1978). Man and His Symbols. NewYork: Dell Publishing Co.Vilnay, Z. (1973). Legends of Jerusalem. NewYork, NY: Jewish Publication Society.

Aviva Lev-David is a doctorate candidatein Depth Psychology at Pacifica GraduateInstitute. Her dissertation titled "HiddenSides of Jerusalem" centers on a reconcilia-tion project that explores women's experi-ence of home in Jerusalem as a personaland a cultural place. Learn more about theresearch:http://avivalevdavid.wordpress.com

Jerusalem Stone

“I find a disturbingyet poetic relationshipbetween the act ofthrowing stones and the word ‘symbol’”

<Back to TOCDepth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

8

I stand amazed at the glowingweb across the eaves of our back door.Puzzled by the spider’s laborin the nightfeeling some intricate design stir in my belly. I am hungry and aloneyet tied to this web that catchesthe morning sun in its dew.Wet by the welded air of morning sticky filamentwashed clean.

Born of the womb of the motherwho hovers now midweb—Second story perch.I can see there in the pattern of coilin the labyrinth of solicitudethe whole of my lifeanchored to a gutter,then over to the branch of a swaying bushentrapped, full of force of cablein mid-air, close to its body.I race the design andfeel uncoil in me a life, a day, a moment of clearpattern—spun from so manyroad lines that lead to a center full of thin legs whereweb and her marker slip intothe skin of the other—Contained held still arrested.

I dream today into the filament oflost timerepeated renewed replenished.I rejoice.Origins stir in their wet fur.Today perhaps only todayin the labyrinth of my journeyI will feel in my belly energyso central so focuseddisentangled from all desireall repetition all interruptionthat disturbs the threads ofso many lost yesterdaysline by tinseled line.

She loves me knot.(November 2012)

Ariadne’s Back YardBy Dennis Patrick Slattery

Linda Ravenswood is an artist from Los Angeles. Her workis interdisciplinary in form and practice. Her new bookHymnal, a Pushcart Prize nominee for 2012, is available

from Mouthfeel Press.

Faerie SceneBy Linda Ravenswood

Form EBy Linda Ravenswood

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

9 <Back to TOC

This too is an experience of the soulThis dismembered world that was the whole godWhose broken fragments now lie dead.This passing of reality itself is real.

Beyond the looming dangerous end of nightBeneath the vaults of fear do his bones lie,And does the maze of nightmare lead to the power within?Do menacing nether waters cover the fish king?

I place the divine fragments into the mandala Whose centre is the lost creative power.The sun, the heart of God, the lotus, the electronThe pulse world upon world, ray upon rayThat he who lived on the first may rise on the last day.

--From Isis Wanderer by Kathleen Raine

Bricolage is a sophisticated form of art that can be foundacross mediums and genres. Quilting, mosaics, collage,

and jazz are all examples of this elegant, organic design, exam-ples of how resurrection is possible through the art of re/mem-bering. In bricolage a whole is created from disparate parts;some form of glue—connective tissue—is required. Then some-thing new emerges. Re/creation presupposes collapse, disinte-

gration, disuse; something old has outworn its usefulness. Thisdestruction produces the rich compost—gardener’s gold—outof which life emerges anew. Famously discussed by ClaudeLévi–Strauss in The Savage Mind in the 1960’s, bricolage hassince been applied to many disciplines and conversations. I sug-gest it offers an inherently sustainable tool for depth psycholo-gists and mythologists exploring healing though individuation,especially how to navigate resurrection and what JosephCampbell defined as the Return.

Bricolage as Sacred Re/MemberingI have always loved the rhythm and complexity found in the

genre of art I now know of as bricolage. The components of thistype of creation—found, collaged, quilted, collaborated, cob-bled and steampunked—are richly textured, fragments echoinga mature life. Such a life has been through s/hero’s journeystoward individuation, re/membered along the way. In such a lifere/membered—in order to attain the elegance of bricolage—some assembly is required. If the energy of psyche is natural,synchronous and trustworthy, bricolage likewise proceeds in anorganic, intuitive fashion. This connection between re/member-ing and bricolage offers a gift from psyche, a unique aid for ourecological crisis, an aid that also—miraculously—heals psycheitself.

As Rumi would say: “The wound is the place where the Lightcomes in.” As artists, we begin with our cracks. When we allowdisintegration, shattering to create shards—the materia primaso necessary to the bricoleur—we begin our descent ass/heroes, as artists, as co-creators with life. This regenerationfrom materials at hand is the gift of return, the elixir broughtback to the community. Bricolage is alchemical re/memberingthat amplifies the beauty of regeneration. A bricoleur—some-one engaging in bricolage, whether artist, poet, or soulmaker—is, first and foremost, a gatherer. Scraps become jewels; all ispotentiality.

The bricoleur does not have a program, but always makesdo with what is at hand. Naturally, his [or her] skill setbuilds over time, as does his [or her] stockpile of tools andmaterials. [S/]He gets a feel for what types of things maycome in handy, and for what types of projects they may beused for, some day. And just as all drawings and poemsgrow out of previous drawings and poems, all of thebricoleur’s acts become the groundwork for new acts(Kerstetter).

Edward Edinger describes this psycho-logical act of gather-ing in The Mystery of the Coniunctio: Alchemical Image ofIndividuation. “Very gradually we will collect our scattered psy-che from the outer world, as Isis gathered the dismemberedbody of Osiris, and in doing that we will be working on the coni-unctio” (18). Isis was perhaps the first bricoleur.

As I was pulling in and rearranging fragments of my

BricolagePsyche’s Eco-Healing Agent

By April Heaslip

Crazy Quilt, artist unknown. Photo by Carolyn Comitta.Published with permission.

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

10

dis/membered self last year I came acrossan account of the amazing archaeologicaldiscovery of a six thousand year oldNeolithic goddess figurine unearthed inthe north of France along the banks ofthe Somme, an unusually northern loca-tion for such an “earth mother,” nowdubbed the Lady of Villers-Carbonnel .This gal survived through her own dis-memberment. She was found shatteredwithin a fire-pit, having exploded duringthe firing. It was because of her dismem-berment that she survived—strengththrough vulnerability. She is the ultimatesymbol for a woman re/membering, not alover as Isis did, but her own damn self.

Bricolage is functional art, fulfilling apurpose. As the craft of creating beautifulfunctionality—for I subscribe to that eco-radical William Morris’s plea for the mar-riage of beauty and function beingabsolutely necessary for a psycho-logicaland eco-logical life—by piecing togetherformerly shattered fragments, bricolage isalso inherently magical. If magic is chang-ing consciousness at will, re/creationbecomes a ritual of sacred resurrectionwith curative properties for both psycheand Nature.

Applied Foundational Bricolage: Bodies,Money & Buildings

When I recently returned to a friend’sFacebook page in search of photos I hadseen of breast cancer survivors I couldnot find them. After extensively searchingthe Internet, thinking they were from abook, I finally came across an articleabout how Facebook expunges such pho-tos under their pornography policy(Huffington Post). Like our manufacturedcultural fear of public breastfeeding—perhaps the most primal of all actions—public breast cancer reminds us too muchof our mortality and disconnection fromNature. While the images I sought—post-surgery tattoos and scars entwining newbricolaged patterns on women’s bodies—were being hidden, airbrushed out of site,other images1 of plastic, Disneyfied fanta-sy women were readily available. Ratherthan these cyborgs—a mechanized cor-ruption of life—we could have life sup-ported through alchemical transforma-tion, healing through grief and re/mem-bering. I could not help but pray thatthose young women, unconsciously pos-ing in skimpy clothes to sell some com-modity—perhaps at the expense of their

own health—were not to become futurebreast cancer survivors.

Bricolage is part art, part alchemy. InThe Ecocritical Psyche Susan Rowlandrelates the potentialities inherent inalchemy as eco-healing agent. “Alchemyis important for ecocriticism because it

contains two central tasks of Ecocriticalwork. Ecocriticism researches and cri-tiques our disastrous treatments ofnature. It also, optimistically, seeks themeans of rebuilding ourselves as ecologi-cally integrated beings” (p. 34). How werebuild ourselves is key. The breast can-

cer example is ripe with ecological impli-cations, especially considering the evi-dence we now have of environmentalcauses of mammary cancer includingendocrine disrupting chemicals (EDC’s)commonly found in pesticides, carcino-gens and radiation (UK Working Group).2

As an example of how we mightreimagine healing, The Scar Project ampli-fies two elements of breast cancer whichhave gone missing from the pink ribbonconsumer-based campaign: the powerand necessity of grief (life in theUnderworld and the essential act oftelling our stories) and a bricolaged, hon-est re/membering (embodied in theReturn). By accentuating their faultlines—lines literally written on their bod-ies—survivors re/member and heal.

Author and educator CharlesEisenstein describes how the dis/easethat is capitalism, and its false quest forendless growth, drives environmentaldevastation. “Basically economic growthmeans that you have to find somethingthat was once Nature and make it into a‘good,’ or was once a gift relationship andmake it into a ‘service.’ You have to findsomething that people once got for free,or did for themselves or for each otherand then take it away and sell it back tothem somehow” (MacKenzie). According

April Heaslip

The Scar Project, photographed by David Jay. Published with permission.

“While the images Isought—post-surgerytattoos and scars

entwining new bricolagedpatterns on women’sbodies—were being

hidden, airbrushed outof site, other images of

plastic, Disneyfied fantasy women werereadily available”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

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to Eisenstein’s book Sacred Economics weare suffering from an acute illusion ofseparateness. In describing how we feel“dispirited,” impoverished without mone-tary wealth, Eisenstein is asking us tomake our transactions sacred again.

We do not realize that our conceptof the divine has attracted to it a godthat fits that concept, and given itsovereignty over the earth. By divorc-ing soul from flesh, spirit from mat-ter, and God from nature, we haveinstalled a ruling power that is soul-less, alienating, ungodly, and unnatu-ral. So when I speak of makingmoney sacred, I am not invoking asupernatural agency to infuse sacred-ness into the inert, mundane objectsof nature. I am rather reaching backto an earlier time, a time before thedivorce of matter and spirit, whensacredness was endemic to all things(Eisenstein xv).

I suggest we attend to this wound ofseparateness through courageous acts ofbricolage. This communal psychologicalwound, this relic from patriarchal capital-ism, this phallacy of separateness needsbricoleurs: mythologists, artists, andalchemists willing to co-create theextraordinary!

New economic models are emerging.Part of global conversations on collabora-tive consumption, gift economies, time-banks, sacred economics and locavesting,these post-postmodern tools are blos-soming and quickly ripening. Based oninclusive, co-creative and egalitarian prin-ciples—allowing for mass participationand lower investments of personal ener-gy—these models are born out of eco-logical systems theory thinking. In herbook What’s Mine is Yours: The Rise ofCollaborative Consumption, RachaelBotsman describes the trust mechanicsinherent in new emerging economics pos-sible via online sharing networks.Reclaiming the worldwide web as peer-to-peer tool—where a middle man (orwoman) is no longer required—Botsmansuggests we can bricolage together aworld where technology can still serveNature. Websites such as swap.com andZipcars provide easy ways to share.Botsman’s own website, collaborative-consumption.com, offers marvelous inter-active graphics illuminating the potentialimpact of collaborative consumption.

Based on trust between strangers—andhow our reputation is the new “credit”—these trust-building acts of practiced gen-erosity support a depth psychologicalprescription for psycho- and eco-logicalhealing. Emerging trends in eco-consump-tion, including “upcycling” and “trashion”(trash+fashion=it is now hip and valued toreuse and redesign what we have) chal-lenge capitalist models because con-sumers transform into creators and col-laborators, emotionally and consciouslyinvesting in the reduction of consumergoods and sustainability. Perhaps a com-prehensive systems theory approach—a

bricolage if you will—toward theseemerging trends could amplify a healthyintersection between crowd mania andappropriate technology, yielding freshperspectives necessary for attending tothe eco-healing of our planet.

Economically teetering Greece istending its wounds by re/turning to localforms of economic innovations, includingtimebanks and local bartering at growers’markets through grassroots activism.From the foothills of Mount Olympus, thePieria Prefecture Voluntary Action Groupcatalyzed “the potato movement” with

an attitude of service and solidarity,encouraging producers to sell directlywithin their communities. The action hasnow spread to “other basic durable goodssuch as olive oil, flour, rice, and honey,”helping Mediterranean dwellers re/mem-ber Nature’s bounty growing all aroundthem (Aljazeera). The primacy of attend-ing to our basic food needs has become aco-creative action. Farmers’ markets andcooperatives hold potential inherent inthe blessing of Demeter during what Ihope is the erosion of the phallic façadeof capitalism (the phallacy of endlessgrowth) in deference to essential compo-nents of true wealth: healthy local food,and fertile soil.

How we build our homes says somuch about how we live our lives. Theglobal movement of natural and sustain-able building has exploded. Cobbling/Cobbing together a home from reclaimedmaterials is an art form. Natural buildingtrends tend to incorporate salvagedmaterials as an eco-friendly practicereducing production and consumption.Phoenix Commotion is an radical localbuilding initiative dedicated to construct-ing homes out of recycled building mate-rials while relying solely on apprenticelabor, teaching building skills to anyoneinterested. Founder Dan Phillips is nowbeing recognized for his innovativeartistry and shrewd resourcefulness. HisTED Talk shows how he co-creates withhomeowners—folks who might otherwisenever own a home—while teaching them

<Back to TOC

Bricolage

Brigid’s Place, Dan Phillips, ©Phoenix Commotion. Published with permission.

“How we build ourhomes says so

much about how we live our lives”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

12

to build their own affordable housingthrough a dynamic homesteading initia-tive, Brigid’s Paradigm (Ted.com). Usingreclaimed and salvaged materials in inno-vative and beautiful ways—such as floorsconstructed from donated bottle corkslaid out in undulating patterns—Phillips isa modern William Morris. His processesmirror natural, organic building forms andways of being in the world while keepingliterally tons and tons of “waste” out of“landfills.” Using materials at hand andcreative problem solving skills he buildswith the sacred; with small carbon foot-prints, these new building owners learnto tread lightly on the land. CertainlyBrigid—goddess of poetry, forge andcraft—does guide this work. Phillips is aphilosopher-artist whose ideas areembedded in the classics and psychology;in his discussion on housing he discussesPlato, Sartre and Maslow. Quoting a par-ticular tension of opposites described byNietzsche in Birth of Tragedy, Phillips dif-ferentiates consumer home constructionpredicated on economic gain (Apollonian)from his own Dionysian approach(Ted.com). Tapping into the archetypalpatterns beneath helps us best attend tosacred building models.

My own experience building a strawbale home relied heavily on found and

reclaimed materials.3 After havingbought land in Vermont, and while stillliving in the Germantown section ofPhiladelphia, I collected discarded archi-tectural features from Victorian homesunder renovation. I had glorious Frenchdoors, wrought iron air grates, and vari-ous windows. For low cost at salvage andthrift stores I purchased antique lightingfixtures, a soapstone sink, and stainedglass windows. Held within the containerof my “limitations” of found objects, Iwas forced into the alchemical heat oftransformation. My home was a true actof bricolage and courage. Continually Ihave been drawn to the imaginative,imperfect ways in which people solveproblems effectively and with beauty. Forme there is nothing more charmingthan—more cozy than—a home builtwith such warmth and consideration forthe health of the planet, the builders, andthe homeowners.

Our bodies, financial systems andbuildings are all calling for our attention;shards from broken landscapes are

emerging, wanting to fall into place in anew, emerging mosaic. I suggest we startgathering these tools and techniques athand—depth psychology, mythology,communication building, appropriatetechnology, trust—and add some glue.

Pulling it Together: Steam & GlueSteampunk was originally a fiction

sub-genre embedded in the areas of fan-tasy and science fiction. It later escaped

off the page to also become a designstyle and subculture (with some taking itas far as a lifestyle) based on the primacyand possibility of alternative culturegrown from steam power. The word“alternative” holds a lot of chargebecause it engages us in the imaginalwhat if; steampunk inhabits the border-lands of possibility attracting edgewalkersand inventors, demanding creativity.Interesting possibilities of sustainable and

eco-psycho-logical bricolage emerge, tak-ing only what works from the early indus-trial revolution era and allowing imaginalexpansion with the best parts of moderntechnology. Perhaps steampunk capturesour psychic imagination because at itscore is the power of steam itself, theinteraction between water (emotions, theunconscious) and fire (passion, agency).This alchemical bricolage creates a won-derful foil for depth psychology becauseits essence is timeless—simultaneouslyvintage and futuristic with creativity andexploration at its heart. Through itsimaginal and expansive nature, it sup-ports eco-consciousness.

The Japanese, while mending theirbroken wares, stir in a bit of gold dust—those alchemists!—with their epoxy, cre-ating a gilded fault line. Reporting on anexhibit entitled Golden Seams: TheJapanese Art of Mending Ceramics at theSmithsonian’s Freer Gallery, WashingtonPost reporter Blake Gopnik hits on thetransformative properties of this process,known as kintsugi. “Because the repairsare done with such immaculate craft, andin precious metal, it’s hard to read themas a record of violence and damage.Instead, they take on the look of a delib-erate incursion of radically free abstrac-tion into an object that was made accord-ing to an utterly different system. It’s likea tiny moment of free jazz played duringa fugue by Bach” (Gopnik). This amplifies

April Heaslip

“Steampunk inhabits the borderlands of possibil i ty attractingedgewalkers and

inventors, demandingcreativity”

Kintsugi, Japanese joinery technique. Image credit: tschörda on Flickr. Image in the public domain.

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

13

the evidence of wounding, re/mindingus that we have been places and havehistories. Yes, we have been broken, andyes, these scars are beautiful.

Bricolage brings such grace to ourwounds; this incredible beauty wouldnot be possible without the originalshattering. Psyche is offering us somuch, so many things at hand withwhich to re/member our lives andreconnection with Nature. We can walka path toward healing our planet andour own wounds; perhaps they are oneand the same and bricolage can heal thesplit. By keeping our shards out of thelandfills, reassessing their value, andusing our tools at hand to create newlife we mature, heal and create newbeauty. As psyche re/members Gaiabenefits and vice versa.

ReferencesAljazeera. (2012, June 11). Greece's 'Potato

Movement' Grows in Power. Retrieved July2, 2012, from Aljazeera:http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/fea-tures/2012/06/2012611102126662269.html

Botsman, R., & Rogers, R. (2010). What’s Mineis Yours: The Rise of CollaborativeConsumption. New York: Harper Business.

Eisenstein, C. (2011). Sacred Economics:Money, Gift, & Society in the Age ofTransition. Berkeley: Evolver.

Gopnik, Blake. (2009). “‘Golden Seams: TheJapanese Art of Mending Ceramics’ atFreer.” The Washington Post, March 3, sec.Arts & Living. http://www.washington-post.com/wp-dyn/content/arti-cle/2009/03/02/AR2009030202723.html

Horsey, D. (2012, July 12). Los Angeles Times.Retrieved July 12, 2012, fromhttp://www.latimes.com/news/politics/topoftheticket/la-na-tt-breastfeeding-moms-20120705,0,5857963.story

Jay, D. (2011). The Scar Project: Breast Canceris Not a Pink Ribbon. Retrieved July 9,2012, fromhttp://www.thescarproject.org/

Lichfield, J. (2011, December 10). The EarthMother of All Neolithic Discoveries.Retrieved December 11, 2011, from TheIndependent:http://www.independent.co.uk/news/world/europe/the-earth-mother-of-all-neolith-ic-discoveries-6275062.html

Kerstetter, Mark. (2010). “The Bricoleur:Bricolage, Bricoleur: What Is It?” TheBricoleur.http://markerstetter.blogspot.com/2010/11/bricolage-bricoleur-what-is-it.html.

MacKenzie, Ian (2012). Sacred Economics withCharles Eisenstein, A Short Film.http://vimeo.com/36843721.

Rowland, S. (2011). The Ecocritical Psyche:Literature, Evolutionary Complexity andJung. New York: Routledge.

Ted.com. TEDTalks Dan Phillips: CreativeHouses from Reclaimed Stuff. October2012. 30 June 2012,http://www.ted.com/talks/lang/en/dan_phillips_creative_houses_from_reclaimed_stuff.html.

UK Working Group on the Primary Preventionof Breast Cancer (2005). Breast Cancer: AnEnvironmental Disease. Hants: UK WorkingGroup on the Primary Prevention of BreastCancer. Retrieved February 28, 2013.http://www.nomorebreastcancer.org.uk/assets/main_v1.pdf.

“U.S. Report Urges Deeper Look into BreastCancer’s Environmental Links.” (2013). TheCenter for Public Integrity.http://www.publicintegrity.org/2013/02/12/12179/us-report-urges-deeper-look-breast-cancers-environmental-links.

Notes

1 LA Times artist and writer David Horseymust have heard my keystrokes. Theprovocative image found at this link: was lit-erally published as I was typing these wordson 12 July 2012. His accompanying article isalso powerful.

2 See Breast Cancer: An EnvironmentalDisease published by the UK Working Groupon the Primary Prevention of Breast Cancer.The No More Breast Cancer Campaign(nomorebreastcancer.org.uk) was born outof this study. Also see The Silent SpringInstitute (SilentSpring.org) founded by mem-bers of the Massachusetts Breast CancerCoalition to investigate elevated rates ofbreast cancer on Cape Cod. They maintainepidemiology and mammary carcinogensreview databases as well as publications(http://sciencereview.silentspring.org/pub_index.cfm). Recent findings from congres-sionally mandated Interagency BreastCancer and Environmental ResearchCoordinating Committee also determinedenvironmental factors “must play a majorrole in the etiology of the disease” (Centerfor Public Integrity).3 See Lacinski and Bergeron’s Serious StrawBale: A Home Construction Guide for AllClimates.

As a doctoral scholar in MythologicalStudies, educator in the fields of GenderStudies and Human Ecology, and founderof The Inside-Out-Stitute, April Heaslipwelcomes the returning Divine Feminine.She is a writer, ritualist and activist, co-creating with chaos and an open heart.

Bricolage

When dreams were chantedmagic worshipped the goddesslight whisperedthrough mountainsand easy purple beautyloved travelinginto the night

Now we lie franticso little music hiding in dream waterstorms situnder the moonaskingfor her prayers and gardens longfor our breath

I am the oneWho sees through the facadeTo the reality within.Speaking of truth With an open heartI reveal to youThat place from which you hide,For it is where your fears reside.Yet here the jewel of your Sacred inner being,Buried beneath the Dank and musty earthbound duties,Still pulses with vital lightAwaiting the dawning of the dayWhen courage rests as a crestUpon your foreheadAnd a mind focused by a Broken-open heartResolves to dig soul deep.

When Dreams Were Chantedby Hadley Fitzgerald

PLUTOBy Sharon Galliford

<Back to TOCDepth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

The Pacific Northwest is frequentlycold and gray both in the spring

and summer. However, the weather doesnot essentially change the natural pat-terns of bird migration. Thus, I was sur-prised to hear the honking of a lonegoose flying through the early spring airas the migration had not yet begun. Whywas it flying alone?

I followed the goose as long as possi-ble and imagined different things: thegoose was lost, it was re-joining its mateor its flock, it was flying reconnaissance.Whatever the reality of that one goose, Iwas moved in a powerful and non-ration-al way. I experienced a flash of intuitiveknowing that the archetypal field of lead-ership is one of service to the mandatesof the Self, predicated upon a consciousego-Self relationship. In this paper, Selfspecifically refers to the ordering princi-ple of the Psyche, which is understood tobe the totality of all psychic processes.The Self is that which brings the ego intoconscious relationship with the psyche,and may be called “God” in the realm ofhuman experience. What struck meforcefully and intuitively is that for lead-ership to emerge certain conditionswould have to set the field into motion.

That intuition was based on the storyrevealed in the flight of the lone goose. Itwas a holographic pattern that could beread by seeing one aspect of the whole.Geese are social beings that fly in flocks,alternating leadership. They almost neverfly alone and only for very specific rea-sons: they are either searching for theirmate, have lost track of the flock, or arescouting for a nesting spot. Their calling isa form of communication, a contact call.When flying together, they are exchang-ing information; when flying alone, theyare sending out a contact request. Here Iam. Where are you?

The intuition that the goose was indanger because it was lost or separatedfrom its flock, was confirmed by Dr.Marilyn Ramenofsky, Professor ofNeurobiology, Physiology and Behavior atUC Davis. As a specialist in the study ofmigratory birds, she agreed that at thattime of the year, at that time of the night,it was dangerous for the goose to bealone. It was calling out to find its rightfulplace within the safety and social struc-ture of the flock (personal communica-tion, July 2012).

The image of the lone goose exempli-fied the archetypal field of leadership inits entirety: a field is an a-priori, pre-exis-tent, non-spatial, non-temporal energeticpattern with its own particular character-istics, proclivities and trajectories. Whilethere are multi-layered and complexexplications of a particular field, any oneaspect of the field illustrates the domi-nant nature of the field. We recognize

the field when we see the patternrevealed in behavior; a partial expressionreveals the whole pattern. This pre-formed field exists in potentia; when cer-tain conditions are met, it will be livedinto, breathed into, brought to materialexpression (Conforti, 1999). What can beexpressed in the field of leadership is:

•Humility, the ability to carry the roleand projections generatively; or •Hubris, the identification of the egowith the transpersonal•Sacrifice of the ego to the demandsof the Self; or •Adherence to the ego’s own needfor power;•Ability of the system to move into anew configuration; or•A system’s resistance to change orregression to a less generative form

How the field manifests is contingenton the individual’s relationship to the Selfand the collective and individual’s rela-tionship with one another.

The partial expression of the field bythe lone goose revealed the whole pat-tern: flocks of geese fly in a “V” formationwith one goose taking the lead. The apexof the V functions as an attractor site,which can be understood as a magneticforce that calls for a goose to take on theleadership role at huge energetic cost.This is the ontological field, the pull of theleadership field calls someone or some-thing into the active lead position toensure the survival of the flock in an effi-cient and energy-conserving manner.

I will employ the basic principles ofArchetypal Pattern Analysis; a disciplinecreated by Dr. Michael Conforti to under-stand the workings of the archetypes asexpressions of the self-regulating natureof the Self. First, I will look at the naturalworld to discern the essence or dominantof the archetypal field of leadership. ThenI propose to look at Exodus in theHebrew Scriptures, as one example ofhow that essence expresses itself in thehuman realm in both generative and non-

14

“Whatever the reality of that one

goose, I was moved in a powerful and

non-rational way. Iexperienced a flash

of intuit ive knowing...”

The Archetypal Field of LeadershipBy Silvia Behrend

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

15

generative ways.

Definition of Leadership

The Field of Leadership calls intobeing someone or something with theability to exercise power and authority inthe service of and in relationship with theSelf. Something reveals itself to the ego,guiding and leading the ego into fulfillingthe mandates of the Self. As we will seelater, this may or may not be generative,what is revealing itself may be destruc-tive. In its most positive reading, themandate is to act, lead and guide the col-lective when the need arises, to ensuresurvival and evolution. That need isexpressed in families, organizations, cul-tures, countries, small and large groups.It is expressed in the internal psychic lifeof a human being whose ego must leadthe way through complexes to come intoa coherent relationship the Self. If theego navigates the journey well, it can actfor the benefit of the relationshipbetween ego and Self and extend thatrelationship into the world as service. Inthe best of all possible manifestations,the ego that responds to the call to “stepup” will be conscious and aware of itselfas related to something greater thanitself. That is service.

To serve the Self requires power, theability to do what must be done withenergy and strength. It demands authori-ty, engendering trust and confidence infollowers so they might be guided across,through, over, and into the PromisedLand. Whether that land be a functionalfamily, an ethical organization, or a war,the followers need to know that they arein good hands, that the leader can takeand contain their projections, as well asdeal with their own terror.

This is the most generative articula-tion of a field that exists, and it constel-lates when certain conditions are met. Athreat to the survival of the collective, orthe need for evolution, will open upspace for the leader to emerge, step inand act. The leader is someone who hasthe requisite skills and talents, gifts andproclivities to enter that field either withaction and/or vision. I believe that thisrequires an exquisite attunementbetween the ego and the Self and refersboth to the external expression of leader-ship as well as to an internal experienceof leading one’s own self through thedangers inherent in the process of com-

ing to conscious relationship with the Self.However, if that relationship does not

exist or is weak, the leader cannot carrythe generative function of the Self.Whether the trajectory taken will lead tothe health and well-being, safety andwholeness of the people, or to terror,destruction and perversion will be predi-cated on the strength of the person’sconscious relationship to the Self.Regardless of the trajectory taken, theywill still be a leader; but when not gener-atively aligned, the people will suffer, notflourish.

In order to see how the field of lead-ership is expressed in the natural world,we can observe how bees function as adiffuse and decentralized system, whilestudying geese reveals the emergence ofrelationality and sociability in how leader-ship is shared.

In the natural world, the essentialfunctions of leadership are fulfilled in adynamic process, instinctually followinguniversal and eternal mandates for thereplication of life, survival and evolution.

These natural processes apply to thehuman realm as well, where relationalityexpresses the feminine aspect of Psyche,the work of the anima that can lead theego into deep understanding of and rela-tionship with the psyche. This under-standing would allow the ego to act in amanner congruent with the healthiestexpression of power and authority inher-ent in the field. Any break in the relation-ship could lead to a destructive and ego-based use of power and authority. Thiscan be evaluated by analyzing the behav-ior of the leader and his or her effects onthe collective.

Another aspect of the human realm isthat we enter another dimension, that ofthe evolution of human consciousness:the world of Psyche as expressed throughthe ordering function of the Self. It is adynamic dance between the evolving egoand the Self, which seeks wholeness and

balance. The archetypal field of leader-ship will call an ego into the role of leaderwhen the need arises in the collective forsurvival and evolution. The leader mustbe able to step into the role, accept andacknowledge what belongs to the roleand realize that he or she cannot go italone. The leader/ego requires the helpof the Self. The ego must have a relation-ship to the Self; without that connection,there is nowhere to go for help, nor isthere an acknowledgment that the ego isunable to generatively fulfill the man-dates expressed in the field of leadershipon its own. As mentioned earlier, Self canbe understood to be “God,” the expres-sion of supreme spiritual value thatorders existence.

You can’t do the job of bringing aboutthe wholeness without a profoundrapport between the conscious andthe unconscious and without going tothe God. Then that God has, first, toagree and, second, to provide essen-tial help without which the journeycannot take place (Kauffman, 2009, p.68).The field of leadership constellates

an ontological mandate to serve the Self;the way to serve is revealed and accessi-ble to humans through active relationshipwith the Self, or as Kauffman expresses it,with God. This will become clearer whenwe look at how these processes areexpressed through the story of Moses.

The Relationship of Ego to Self in theCase of Bees

The beehive serves as an excellentexample of how a dynamical systemoperates as a diffuse system of continu-ous adaptation without a centralized coredirecting its functions. What emergesfrom the collective at any given time is animmediate and adaptive response to theenvironment, the responses are the natu-ral actions of each part of the organismdoing what it is designed to do.

Thus, care must be taken not toattribute human cognition or ontology tothe natural world. There is no ‘leader’bee that determines anything for the col-lective. Hives contain only one queen beewhose function is to mate with the fewmales who die right after aerial insemina-tion. She then lays between 1500 and3000 eggs a day from the accumulatedsperm of that single flight. The eggs thatare not fertilized will become male, the

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The Archetypal Field of Leadership

“To serve the Selfrequires power, the

abil i ty to do what mustbe done with energy

and strength”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

fertilized eggs become the worker beeswho take care of the next generation.Queens may live from five to seven yearsand lose their fecundity as they age.When a queen bee dies, is ill, gets tooold, or it is time to swarm, somehow thehive “knows” that a new queen must becreated. At that particular moment,something gets constellated and commu-nicated, and the hive goes into immedi-ate reproductive alert.

The worker bees, all females, choosea number of fertilized eggs previously laidin queen cups and feed them exclusivelyon royal jelly. The first queen to emergestings the other possible queens andbecomes the one who will mate with thedrones to continue the hive, or swarmand establish a new colony. Each part ofthe whole does what it is designed to dowithout a central command center. Thisis the articulation of the field in its mostdiffuse form, the need for survival, pro-tection, evolution, moves the hive to actas one: “The Queen is Dead, Long Livethe Queen.”

The Relationship of Ego to Self in theMovement of Wild Geese

…the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,the world offers itself to your imagination,calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and

exciting —over and over announcing your place

in the family of things. (Oliver, 2003, p. 1)

These lines by Mary Oliver articulateour deep resonance to the image ofgeese, home and family. The image ispowerful precisely because the goosewas flying alone. While I intuited that itwas seeking the flock, research affirmedthat geese live in social systems, and fly-ing alone is dangerous.

The study of geese demonstratesthe movement to relationality, the qualityof being in relationship. Geese live infamily groups, mating for life; if one dies,the goose may or may not mate again.When a goose is ill or injured, two geesefly down with it and stay until the gooseis either well enough to rejoin a flock or

dies. The two geese will then re-join aflock. This illustrates how adaptationincludes relational affective bondsbetween and among members of the col-lective.

Something very profound is beingexpressed—the field is not only predicat-ed on survival. In Nature, there is safetyin numbers. Leaving the flock and makingone’s way back to the flock does notmake survival sense, as the geese orgoose will have to face predatory dan-gers. Adolf Portmann described the needfor animals to express their individualityeven when it may be a disadvantage totheir survival (Conforti, 1999). Thus, rela-tionality is a value embedded in the field,which encompasses the ability to sacrificeone’s own survival in the service of some-thing greater than oneself.

Geese fly in a “V” formation to con-serve energy, increase efficiency, andfacilitate communication. The V allowsfor visual contact and honking providesinformation and perhaps encouragement.One goose assumes the position at theapex of the “V”. Inhabiting that space

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requires the strength and ability to takethe brunt of the force from the wind andbeing attuned to the flock’s direction.When that goose gets tired, another onetakes that space. The ‘lead’ goose thenflies into the center of the V in order torecover. The leadership spot ‘calls’ anoth-er goose into service. The very momentwhen the lead goose gets tired andanother one is moved to take the spacedescribes the activation and expression ofthe field of leadership.

This is the transpersonal movement inthe field of leadership. The rotation ofthe leadership spot in service to thewhole requires that whoever takes thatspot be able to do the work. The attrac-tor of leadership is aligned from thearchetypal field of leadership to thearchetypal field of the prospective leader.In the natural world, the bird must bestrong enough to ‘lead.’ It cannot be sick,wounded, weak, or too young or inexpe-rienced as that would endanger the sur-vival of the flock. The same holds true inthe human realm.

Relationality, the movement fromleader to follower and back again, thenecessity for the leader to be capable,adept and willing to step into that spaceis embedded in the field of leadership.Those relationships can be collective, asdemonstrated by the hive, as all partswork together to adapt to the momentand can be predicated on an individualtaking on the hard work necessary totake the collective where it needs to go.The ego must be willing to risk and sacri-fice.

The Relationship of Ego to Self in theHebrew Scriptures: Exodus

Bridging from the Natural world tothe human expression of natural process-es requires some transitional comments.We have seen that Nature reveals thearchetypal aspects of leadership throughrelationality; hives and flocks are dynami-cally adaptive systems which respond to acollective need. Within parameters, itdoesn’t matter which bee or gooseresponds. In the case of human beings,however, there is the added componentof the nature of the relationship betweenthe ego and the Self. The quality of thisrelationship is crucial for both the egoand the Self. As we move to the humanexperience of the transpersonal, thesupreme ordering principle is expressed

through humanity’s story and history ofits relationship to God. Thus, from thestudy of hives and flocks, we move to thestories of God and humans as expressedin the Hebrew Scriptures. The Self, orGod, cannot know itself or reach con-sciousness and awareness without theengagement of the ego. As Edinger(2000) states:

All history is a visible manifestationof God’s engagement in humanaffairs, God on the human plane, soto speak…. History is the visible man-ifestation of God, which can occuronly with the appearance ofSelf-conscious man. History is theautobiography of God. We know psy-chologically that God needs historyas his object. This is the basis forGod’s need for humanity. (pp.13-14)

In order for an ego to serve the man-dates of the Self (that life be lived, thathumans and God partner in the evolutionof the Creation), there has to be a rela-tionship. Relationality is the feminineaspect of the Self. In the HebrewScriptures, she is described as Wisdomand is also known as Sophia, Teacher,Guide. Relationality is the anima-function,the soul of the connection between Selfand ego. She is the supreme teacher of allthat can be known, done or envisionedand she is always available to the ego inits development of relationship to thePsyche, through the ordering principle ofthe Self. Wisdom requires sacrifice andthe courage to take action, regardless ofhow the collective views it or what theconsequences might be. Wisdom isalways available to the ego and bothWisdom and ego are in relationship withGod (the Self).

The question is—can the ego hear thegenerative voice of Wisdom, or will it bepossessed by unassimilated archetypalcontents of the unconscious?

It is naïve to believe that leadershipembedded in relationship includes onlythe possibilities for ethical behavior, sincethe Self contains all human experiences,from the most brutal and bloodthirstyexpression to the most generative andethical. Being possessed by unconsciousurges, rages, wrath, jealousy, greed, existas a regressive and primitive identifica-tion with one aspect of the archetypalfield. Only an ego strong enough tochoose to become conscious, aware andrelationally connected to the Self canwithstand the onslaught of destructivepsychic contents. That ego must developits strength through trials and tests, over-come obstacles and recognize that it is inrelationship to something greater whichit serves: God/Self. The ego will be afraid,it will be alone, and it may not succeed.

Thus far, we have seen that the arche-typal field of leadership gets constellatedby the system when there is a need forsomeone to guide the system into a newstate of being: from oppression to libera-tion, from danger to safety, from begin-ning to end. This requires someone increative and dynamic relationship withGod/Self in which they can access the fullpower and authority that resides not withthe ego, but with the Self. As stated earli-er, this is important both for the evolu-tion of the ego and for the evolution ofthe Self. The obverse can also manifest—instead of humble, strong and capableleaders, there are dictators, psychopathicbosses, weak and ineffective monarchsand rulers who lead the system intodestruction: their ego and the God areone.

We can read the story of Exodus asthe human expression of how the arche-typal field of leadership constellates andhow the leader and leaders who emergefulfill that function generatively or not,depending on their relationship toGod/Self.

The conditions in the field generatecertain responses: danger to survival setsinto motion the expression of leadershipin the material world. The responses ofboth the individual and the collective arepre-set and determined by the field itself.When Pharaoh decreed both the enslave-ment of the Hebrews and the killing ofthe first-born males in every family, thefield was constellated. The people wereconstrained by the field to move from theattractor of oppression to that of libera-

The Archetypal Field of Leadership

“The question is—can the ego hear the

generative voice ofWisdom, or will it be

possessed by unassimilatedarchetypal contents of the unconscious?”

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18

tion or face extinction. At the same time,the space opened for the leader toemerge who would take the people fromoppression to the Promised Land.

The conditions required to move fromone place or attractor to another wereset in motion: Would the leader whoemerged serve the highest good of thecollective or fall into hubris? In theExodus story, Moses emerged, both liter-ally and symbolically, from his relation-ship to God/Self. He is “twice born,” oncebiologically and once from the river, apowerful image attesting to the potentialfor developing a conscious relationshipwith the source of life. He will have to dothe psychological work necessary todevelop that relationship throughout hislife. Moses will face exile, separation andunion, and emerge connected to God in agenerative manner (Edinger, 2000). Andhe will pay the price.

Moses is adopted by the EgyptianPrincess and becomes a prince, a leader-ship role he is not yet prepared to fulfillgeneratively. The role, without a properrelationship and submission to the god,possesses Moses. His one act as prince ismurder, killing an Egyptian taskmasterwho was beating a Hebrew slave. Theleader who acts out of ego-identificationwith the role is thus possessed by thearchetypal and the transpersonal, the egois eclipsed by the unconscious.

The ego must pay, moving fromhubris to humility. Moses goes into exile,where he relinquishes the mantle of anadopted role and becomes a shepherd,husband and father, a man who servesGod with humility. This is the proper atti-tude of an ego that can carry the functionof the Self without becoming possessedby it.

In the meantime, the people’s distressand oppression have increased and theneed for liberation has reached a turningpoint. The Self is on the move and readyto call the leader into action.

God calls to Moses from a bush thatburns but is not consumed. The field ofleadership calls for an ego that can serveas the carrier of the power of the holybut not be obliterated by the contents ofthe transpersonal. The voice from thebush tells Moses that he is to lead thepeople to freedom. Moses’ initial refusaldemonstrates the proper attitude to theGod: Who am I to do this?

Moses continues: “I can neither speak

nor convince the people that it was youwho sent me. They will not follow mewithout proof. I need help.”

The response is that all that Moseswill do or say will be directed by anddone through God’s power: “I will be withyour mouth and teach you what you shallspeak…and will teach you what you shalldo” (Exodus 4:12-15).

It is never Moses’ ego-self that lifts hishands and opens up the Red Sea orbrings the manna, water, or quail. It isalways the God who flows through him,who possesses the ego without obliterat-ing or consuming it. When the hands arelowered, the ego returns to the relation-ship and knows it serves the Self and notitself. False leaders, on the other hand,are possessed by primitive and unassimi-lated contents of the unconsciousbecause their relationship to the Self iseither weak or severed. The ego becomesinflated and remains in that state.

Help for Moses will come from otherparts as well, the front spot is only oneaspect of a coherent system. God says toMoses: I will send Aaron to help you andyou shall be as God to Aaron (Exodus4:16). Psychologically, Moses is informedthat his direct relationship to the Self isdeveloped and generative enough forMoses to be able to carry its functionwithout inflation. He can hold the projec-tions and deal with the terror, and not beled astray by the collective pressures toreturn to old adaptive ways. At everyturn, when the people turn against him,Moses takes the blame, criticism, andapprobation, and remains true to themandates of the Self.

When Moses goes to the mountain toreceive the law that will delineate therelationship between the people andGod, the system once again experiencesdistress, threat, and disconnection. Thefield is activated as they seek to return toa previous balance. Regardless of thereality of that former existence, the pullto the old attractor is there.

The people demand that Aaron re-create the old gods, and become theirleader because Moses and God had aban-doned them. Aaron kills off the God; hisleadership is false because it is not relat-ed to the highest good of the people butrather on his ego identification as the de-facto leader in Moses’ absence. He couldnot carry the projection or the mandatesof the field in a way that best served thepeople, but instead served his self-inter-est in becoming the leader. The peopleonce again pay the price, even thoughtheir distress had constellated the field.Moses would have—and did—refuse thatpull to become the God himself and thusfall into hubris. This would not onlydestroy Moses and the people, but alsowould diminish awareness and conscious-ness itself.

At every turn when the Hebrews arechallenged by their journey—the Red SeaCrossing, their hunger and thirst, theirfear of abandonment—they turn againstMoses, who never betrays or abandonsthem. His relationship with God is strongenough that he repeatedly pleads withGod on the people’s behalf in spite oftheir accusations, their lack of faith, andlack of obedience to the highest value fortheir evolution. Moses’ power andauthority is constantly challenged and heis equal to the task because the powercomes from his relationship to God.

When the relational aspect of thefield is compromised or severed, whenthe feminine is “killed off,” so to speak,the field will express the most destructiveaspect of adaptation. Relationality, partic-ipation in the human condition, andunderstanding of the nature of Self assomething wholly other to which onemust bow, is obliterated. What remains isan ego that believes it is the center of theuniverse, the God itself.

Those who serve the highest and bestaspects of the Self are recognized by theiractions, by what they are willing to sacri-fice and risk. Much like the goose whoflies down to care for the most vulnerableand risks predation, the generative leaderwill do what must be done for the collec-tive regardless of the cost. The consciousleader will know the cost and choose topay the price for being in intimate rela-tionship with and in service to God/Self.Moses lost his participation with commu-nity, his intimate relationship to family,and the Promised Land. Moses spoke inti-

Sylvia Behrend

“It is never Moses’ ego-self that lifts his handsand opens up the Red

Sea or brings themanna, water, or quail”

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The Archetypal Field of Leadership

mately with God and had to be veiled toprotect the people from his shining coun-tenance. He lived outside the encamp-ment, his sole intimate relationship waswith the transpersonal. Not many cancarry that mandate generatively for thesake of the collective, especially when thefield is activated.

The field of leadership, once specificpre-formed conditions are met, sets intomotion the manifestation in materialform in predictable ways. Those whoemerge can step into the space and servethe highest values or they can serve thenarrow self-interest of an ego weaklyrelated to Self, or even completely oblit-erated by archetypal possession. Theimplications for all of us—as therapists,analysts, parents, co-workers, bosses andfriends—is that we need to be aware thatwe will be constrained by the workings ofinvisible fields to act in ways which maynor may not be generative. It is our moralduty to do the difficult work of coming toconscious relationship to the Self so wemay lead our lives into wholeness andbalance and be able to serve the world,whether for a moment or a lifetime.

NotesAndersson, Malte , Wallander, Johan. Kin

selection and reciprocity inflight formation? Behavioral Ecology Vol.15 No. 1: 158–162.

Buber, Martin (1955). The Legend of the Baal-Shem. Princeton University Press: Princeton.

Conforti, Michael (1999). Field, Form, andFate. New Orleans: Spring Journal.

———————————-(2008). ThresholdExperiences: The Archetype oBeginnings. Vermont: Assisi InstitutePress.

Edinger, Edward F. (2000). Ego andArchetype. Toronto: Inner City Books.

Houglum, David T. (2012). Myth-Busters:Traditional And Emergent Leadership.E:CO Issue Vol. 14 No. 2 2012 pp. 25-39.

Jung, C. G. (1975). The Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Vol. 11. New York:Bollingen Foundation.

Kaufmann, Yoram, (2009). The Way of theImage, the Orientational approach To the Psyche. New York: Yahav Books.

May, Gerbert G, Metzger, Bruce M eds.(1977). The New Oxford Annotated Bible with the Apocrypha. New York:Oxford University Press.

Miller, Peter, (2010). Smart Swarm: UsingAnimal Behavior to ChangeOur World. London: HarperCollinsPublisher.

Oliver, Mary (2003). Owls and OtherFantasies. Boston: Beacon Press.

Ottman, J. (2005). First Nations LeadershipDevelopment. Alberta:Banff Center.

Smith, Douglas W, Ferguson, Gary (2005).Decade of the Wolf: ReturningThe Wild to Yellowstone. Guilford: TheLion Press.

Neumann, Erich (1970). The Origins andHistory of Consciousness.

Princeton: Bollingen Series.Tillich, Paul ( 1948). The Shaking of the

Foundations . New York: Scribner’s Sons.Von Franz, Marie Louise (1997). Archetypal

Patterns in Fairy Tales. Toronto: Inner City Books. Von Franz, Marie Louise (1980). The

Psychological Meaning ofRedemption Motifs in Fairytales. Toronto:

InnerCity Books.

Dr. Silvia Behrend is a graduate of theAssisi Institute's Archetypal PatternAnalyst Program as well as a CertifiedDream Pattern Analyst. She is an adjunctprofessor in the Doctoral LeadershipStudies Program at Gonzaga University aswell as an archetypal pattern analyst inprivate practice.

I am being handed a chisel by the world

forced to carve out my own features

sloughing limestone and granite

grit in my eyes and between my teeth.

I hack away, now flailing, now caught

in the cadence of some finer move

that defines a hand or thigh. I am

chopping and scraping not just at stone

but at the layers of indignation that arise.

Why must I do this work upon myself?

Where is the watchful, masterful eye

to size me up and know exact

the strikes that will release my form

from the density of this hull? Why must I hold

awkward these instruments at the risk

of eyes and the certainty of scars, without

blueprints, with only the perspective

gained by standing back and surveying

the outline I make against the world in shadow

and in light. What do I do with the fire

that drives me towards the heart

of this stone, knowing even as I’m chiseling

and chiseling that a work of art

needs a body if it wants a lasting home.

There is salt and sweat and yes blood

mixed in, my patina hard-won, desired

not as armor but simply as a sense of my own

surfaces. There is hope yet that I will come

to hold this chisel not as a knife I turn against myself

but as a gift, revealed in the end as an assent

that I can indeed be the masterpiece that I am called

to make of this material I have been given -

so raw, so stubborn, yet so wanting to be made.

Life in the Hands, Cry in the HeartBy Catherine Baumgartner

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20Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

21

“It is here that our hearts are set, In the expanse of the heavens.”

—Pawnee song

“It is no mere coincidence that ourfeelings about a place take on spiritu-al dimensions. An old rancher oncetold me he thought the lines in hishands had come directly up from theearth that the land had carved themthere after so many years of work.”

—Gretel Ehrlich, “Landscape”

With the aging of my parents, nowin their eighties, and our immi-

nent joint purchase of a large tract ofranch land on the Eastern ColoradoPlains, I feel them, myself, and my chil-dren, three generations, coming full cir-cle. The prairies and plains of WesternKansas and Eastern Colorado have beenour home and homeland for many gener-ations. In this paper, I hope to sharesome of this area’s story, my family’sstory, as well as insight into why this par-ticular place exerts such a powerful claimon me and others. My intention is to illus-trate that place can link us to our individ-ual and collective depths, as well as pro-vide healing and transformation with theEarth, within ourselves, and communities.To do this, I will explore the archetypeand cohesion of place—its alchemicalsynthesis of land, myth, and history—byfocusing on one specific area: the SmokyHill Trail as it traverses time and theplains of Kansas and Colorado. My overallmethod is best reflected in the practice ofterrapsychology that Chalquist (2012)developed for engaging the soul of place:

Terrapsychology is the deep study ofour largely unconscious (because dis-regarded) connections to and inter-dependencies with the multileveledpresence of our living Earth, includ-ing specific places, creatures, andmaterials. “Deep” because what linksus to places and animals and the ele-ments travels along bridges of sym-

bol, metaphor, image, and even syn-chronicity and dream.Terrapsychology explores how thepatterns, shapes, features, andmotifs at play in the nonhumanworld sculpt our ideas, our habits,our relationships, culture, and senseof self: freeway congestion in con-gested conversations, lake toxins inour darker moods, salt-choked fieldsand bitter relations, healing land-scapes and regenerating hearts. Wealso study the reverse, the provinceof ecopsychology: the impacts ofcolonialism, nationalism, and otherdissociative cultural constructs onthe increasingly paved and griddedworld around us. (pp. 1-2)

Engaging the soul of a place also tugson our personal sense of home and anarchetypal sense of innate yearning for aplace of our own. In finding and makingour home, it then becomes a sacredspace. Since our desire for and sense ofland and home are remarkably similar inall cultures throughout history, they alsodisplays profound archetypal energy. Thisarchetypal field is strongly felt not only inour designated home or sacred sense ofplace, but also in nature and within cul-tural groups. In addition, I will explorewhat a deep map of Place might look likewhen it includes the unconscious and analchemical understanding of nature as itrelates to psyche.

The concept of archetypal energy isgrounded in a depth psychological frame-work. To tease this apart, the dictionary

definition of an archetype is an originalpattern or model from which all things ofthe same kind are copied or on whichthey are based; a model or first form; aprototype. However, in Jungian psycholo-gy, an archetype is a collectively inheritedunconscious idea, or pattern of thoughtwhich is universally present in individualpsyches (Archetype, n.d.). Chalquist(2012) further tied this archetypal energyto the natural world: “Manifestations ofhuman psychic life, including patterns,symbols, and metaphors, link to corre-lates and correspondences in the naturalworld across perpetually interactive fieldsand through complex systems. In otherwords, geological, geographical, ecologi-cal, meteorological, etc. forces are psy-chological forces too” (p. 3).

The place that has been my home andsacred space, and that continues to exertstrongly felt archetypal forces, is theAmerican “Heartland” of the Great Plains.For me, this journey of soul engagementspecifically began in Kansas where myparents and I were born. Every summer Iget invited to our family reunion inKansas. I rarely go any more, but when Ido, I am instantly immersed in the arche-typal field of the hardy pioneer, thedepression-era family farm, and the Mid-western Main Street. Perhaps this is notany one archetype, but anyone who hasspent time in a small Kansas or Nebraskatown will tell you that there is a coher-ence of being that comes into play. Whyis this? For one thing, it is a difficult life.The earth is hard and unforgiving. Therain is fickle. The trains no longer stop atthe local depots now dry-rotted and busyonly with tumbleweeds patrons (Paton, Astate of being, 2011).

As I alluded to at the outset of thispaper, I have recently begun to re-engagemy pioneer roots. I may not have my par-ents much longer and I stand to lose theirmany stories and connections to theprairie, and my personal, cultural, andhistoric ties to both land and people, if Ido not record their stories soon. In addi-

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“Anyone who has spentt ime in a small Kansasor Nebraska town willtel l you that there is acoherence of being that

comes into play”

A Horizon in Every DirectionEngaging the Soul of the Great Plains

and the Smoky Hill TrailBy Carla Paton

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

22

tion, my husband and I are weeks awayfrom buying a home together with myparents on 132 acres of rolling prairie inEastern Colorado. The intention, more-over, is to start a bison ranch and to beable to eventually fully subsist on theland. Syncronistically, running throughthese acres, in Elbert County, are theremnants of the “Smoky Hill Trail” thatbrought the pioneers in the 1850s to1880s in covered wagons from EasternKansas towns to the gold fields of Denver,Colorado and Cherry Creek environs. Mycurrent suburban home, southeast ofDenver, by Piney Creek, also lies alongthe Smoky Hill Trail. A plaque, commemo-rating the trail is a five-minute walk from

my home (Figure 1). Hillman (1983) maintained that soul-

making, “Does not seek a way out of orbeyond the world toward redemption ormystical transcendence…. The curative orsalvational vision of archetypal psycholo-gy focuses upon the soul in the worldwhich is also the soul of the world” (p.26). It is by focusing on the earth, theworld, what is underfoot and overheadthat I find transformative. According toEdinger, (1985) in alchemy, this solidity isalso known as coagulatio:

‘Earth’ is thus one of the syn-onyms for the coagulatio. It is heavy

and permanent, of fixed position andshape… Its form and location arefixed. Thus, for a psychic content tobecome earth means that it has beenconcretized in a particular localizedform; that is, it has become attachedto an ego. (p. 83)

Indeed, our ego and our psyche live inthe particulars of history, wind, storms,drought, rain, and dirt.

The “Old Starvation Trail” is in manyways representative of my “particularlocalized form” and engagement of thesoul of the Great Plains. It stretches notonly through the heart of my connectionswith the land of Kansas and Colorado, butit is a thread through time connecting thehistory of the earth, rivers, First Peoples,animals, pioneers, wagons, coaches, rail-roads, hope, destruction, and finally themodern highway covering over the foot,wagon, and rail tracks. Few who drive by

the trail markers are aware of the historyburied in layers under their wheels. Myown deep desire for engagement withthis place, its land, history, and mythsmoves me to discover how its voice artic-ulates if we pause and sit awhile amongthe sea of grass.

A Great Expanse“We could feel the peace and power

of the Great Mystery in the soft grassunder our feet and in the blue sky aboveus. All this made deep feeling within us,and this is how we got our religion.”—

Luther Standing Bear, My Indian Boyhood

My only memories of Kansas occur inthe summer. This is because we droveour motorhome across the country fromMaryland to Colorado during my father’sthree-week vacations. One would notattempt such a trek during the unpre-dictable winter months. In one such sum-mer Kansas memory, my older brother,my father, and I sat watching “LawrenceWelk” on television, in the small farm-house of an uncle. My mother and aunt

were in the kitchen preparing supper(dinner, in the mid-west, is the word forlunch). My younger cousins seemed rivet-ed by the show, but my brother rolled hiseyes, which meant if he had to listen toone more singing duet with Mr. Welk hemight go hang himself in the barn. I wasmore interested in my father. Every win-dow was open and three floor fans wereon full blast, yet my blouse clung to mefrom the humidity building with the lateafternoon heat. My father ignored thetelevision and was intent on looking outthe large window. When he got up tosmoke his pipe outside, I followed him. Iwas unprepared for what I saw when Ifollowed his gaze. Even as a meteorolo-gist’s daughter, I had never seen suchforeboding black clouds. I have never for-gotten it, or the electric feel to the air.

According to Heat, (1991) tornado is aSpanish word meaning turned, from averb meaning to turn, alter, transform,repeat, and to restore. It is the tempestof opposing forces turning in, strengthen-ing, as it gathers dry, cold air and mixes itwith moist, warm air. This union of oppo-sites, or alchemy of coniunctio thatEdinger (1985) depicted; turns and whirlslike star trails circling the poles, transmut-ing the air and the land wherever theopus, its work, converges to its mostpowerful culmination (p. 226). It is diffi-cult to imagine how such a destructivework might restore anything, especiallyas restorative of psyche, unless we con-sider Jung’s (1971) concept of the inferi-or-type function. In her 1971, Lectures onJung’s Typology, von Franz related thatthe inferior function has immense powerdue to the oppositional forces of con-sciousness (represented by the superiorfunction) and the unconscious (represent-ed by the inferior function). Also, accord-ing to Jung, (1959) “the inferior functionis practically identical with the dark sideof the human personality” (CW 9i, Para.222). One might extend this to imaginethe tornado as the shadow side of nature,the destructive energy necessary to bal-ance the creative force.

I am especially conscious of theweather, no matter where I live or travel.My father trained as a meteorologist inthe U.S. Air Force; at the University ofChicago under Dr. Fujita (designer of thetornado intensity “F-Scale” rating); at theKansas Severe Storm Center and theNational Weather Service in Washington

Carla Paton

“Tornado is a Spanish word meaningturned, from a verb

meaning to turn, alter,transform, repeat, and to restore”

Figure 1. Piney Creek Smoky Hill Trail Marker,Centennial, Colorado © Carla Paton

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

23

D.C.; finally, he was the “Meteorologist InCharge” of the State of Colorado.Weather is deep in my psyche. Tornadoesespecially frequent most of my dreamssince tornadoes of every configurationcovered my father’s office walls. I am no“storm chaser” but I do get a thrill whenthe clouds start building. Many after-noons and evenings I sat huddled in ablanket watching the natural fireworks oflighting and my father’s pipe smoke curl-ing around his head. However, it was thesweet rain above all that we honoredwith unspoken reverence. A smell like noother; like wet jasmine in Maryland, andin Colorado, like parched dirt freshlywashed; the scent of fragrant sheets on aclothes line.

On the Great Plains the vast openspace contributes to spectacular weatherpatterns that add to the land’s psycheand that of its inhabitants. Quantic (1997)in her book, The Nature of Place: A Studyof Great Plains Fiction, spoke to this phe-nomenon of open space and weather:

In a region where there are no natu-ral barriers the great expanses exac-erbate the weather’s natural vio-lence, and the land’s products con-tinue to influence the quality of life,no matter how far removed oneimagines oneself to be from the land.The drought, the coming storm, thepromised crops are the stuff of dailynewscasts and journalists’ analyses.Social calendars, sporting plans, con-versations, and jokes depend uponthe weather and the nature of theland. (p. xii)

For many, the pioneers included, theGreat Plains and prairie are a harsh,unforgiving land, severe weather or no.Also, many people, unaccustomed tomiles of arid lands without trees, thestark beauty of the short and tall grasses,yucca, jackrabbits, and grasshoppers arelost on them. Europeans and Americansfrom the East, accustomed to deciduousforests, not only failed in transportingtheir water-reliant farming practices, buttheir psyches also found challenge in con-forming to being dwarfed by the land-scape. Cather’s (1999) character,Alexandra Bergson (as well as WillaCather herself) in O Pioneers! was per-haps an exception in this clash of expec-tations and reality:

When the road began to climb

the first long swells of the Divide,Alexandra hummed an old Swedishhymn, and Emil wondered why hissister looked so happy. Her face wasso radiant that he felt shy about ask-ing her. For the first time, perhaps,since that land emerged from thewaters of geologic ages, a humanface was set toward it with love andyearning. It seemed beautiful to her,rich and strong and glorious. Hereyes drank in the breadth of it, untilher tears blinded her. Then theGenius of the Divide, the great, freespirit which breathes across it, musthave bent lower than it ever bent toa human will before. The history ofevery country begins in the heart of aman or a woman. (p. 170)

One aspect of this land and weatherthat Quantic spoke directly to, and towhich Cather alluded, is drought. In thequote above, Alexandra views the landnot from its drought aspect, but she seesit in the reverse. It is a land that “swells”and land that “emerged from thewaters.” There is moistness in her “loveand yearning.” Her eyes “drank” andblinded her with tears. The “great, freespirit” that could blow a drying wind, also“breathes” across the Divide. This is amoist breath as moist as the blood in the“heart of a man or a woman”—as moistas the blood that Alexandra works intothe soil with her hands.

Collective Dreams

“Myths matter because they are thecollective dreams that wed inner andouter, people and places, known andunknown. Myths image deep structur-ings of the human experience of thenonhuman.”—Craig Chalquist, Terrapsychology:

Re-engaging the Soul of Place

“Grass no good upside down.”

—Plains Indian admonition to white settlers

It is not only the land that can ener-gize the field of a place; a complex canalso generate a bundle of psychic energy“organized around a certain theme,”which can be the magnetic pull, the“attractor,” of archetypes on the individ-ual and collective psyche. Conforti clari-fied that complexes act as “antennae” or“tuning mechanisms” for us to connect ornot connect with certain archetypes and,specifically, certain traits or “frequencies”of particular archetypes (p. 24).Whitmont (1969) also said that “arche-types manifest indirectly as an archetypalimage in a symbol, complex, or symptom”(p. 119). In America, the Great Dust Bowlbrought together all the elements ofnature, place, history and culture to cre-ate such a syndrome of complexes andsymptoms that still shape the Americanpsyche.

Whether it expresses itself throughhuman art or nature, according toPortmann, “the mandate for virtually all-living systems…is twofold: to insure sur-vival and to express one’s nature” (citedin Conforti, 2003, p. xxv). Indeed, Confortiadded, “an a priori field, where form, liv-ing in potentia, is converted into matter”(p. xxvi). This “matter” can take manyforms, not only in nature, but also in howwe view nature and how we find our cen-ter, our home within this form. In turn,our imagination originates from this natu-ral home center. And our imagination hasRomantic roots.

Part of the European Romantic imagi-nation that arrived on the shores of theNew World along with the original set-tlers, as well as later Old World immi-grants, was a longing for an “eternalreturn” to a pastoral lifestyle and ideal.This keenly felt sense of a lost Eden ornatural, unspoiled landscape accompa-nied an escape from crowded, industrial,polluted European cities. When America’sdense virginal forests, teeming wild life,wide open frontiers, and abundant natu-ral resources were first learned of, itquickly translated into manifest destiny,the Homestead Act, the transatlantic rail-road, the gold rush, and the primacy ofprogress (Marx, 1964). In their earnestdesire to create a garden for themselvesand their children, the settlers soonrecreated cities, decimated indigenous

A Horizon in Every Direction

“Myths matter because they are the collective dreams thatwed inner and outer,people and places,

known and unknown”

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24

peoples and species, and created vastdust bowls of over-cultivated topsoil.

This Edenic, pastoral archetypal idealthat we still persist in claiming as ourbirthright as Americans, continues toshape our cultural selective memory andtherefore shapes our actions still. Forexample, instead of thinking logically ofhow to create dense population centerswith minimal ecological impact, our long-ing for nature causes us to spread out ourpopulation centers, resulting in urbansprawl. By each of us desiring our littleparcel of land, we have created thou-sands of suburbias with patches of thirstylawns that require water and fertilizers indesert or semi-arid environments. Wehave selective memory when it comes tosoothing the wound of our industrialcomplex. In our effort to each grasp ourown piece of nature, the collective; theland held in common is destroyed oraltered, which recreates the wound in avicious circle. Yes, our appreciation, ourlove of nature, or the cultivation of thelove of nature may contribute to preserv-ing it, but if our complex surrounding thepastoral archetype goes unrecognized,our love becomes smothering, consum-ing, and leads to a loss of the very thingso earnestly desired.

At the turn of the 19th century, themillions of virgin acres of the UnitedStates’ Southern Plains called to pioneers.The black topsoil, rich as chocolate fromlong rain cycles, soon yielded recordcrops. The newly built railroads broughtmore farmers, eastern farming practicesand soon wheat speculators. The horseand plow that plowed a mere three acresa day were replaced with tractors thatcould turn over fifty acres. Father and sontook turns running the new shining greenJohn Deeres night and day. Then, in thesummer of 1931, the rains stopped. Thedrought continued for a decade. It took1,000 years to make one inch of topsoil;in a few minutes of a dust storm, it wasgone. The massively tall and wide blackwhirlwinds blotted out all light. For many,it appeared to be the end of the world(Worster, 2004).

It should be remembered that theword “soil” is also “humus,” from which,etymologically, we also derive “humility”(Chevalier, 1996, p. 331). Jung (2002) alsospoke to the hubris of ignoring the intrin-sic qualities of the earth: “The facts of

nature cannot in the long run be violated.Penetrating and seeping through every-thing like water, they will undermine anysystem that fails to take account of them,and sooner or later they will bring aboutits downfall” (p. 128).

Even as the dust storms and some ofthe hottest summers on record persisted,farmers continued to plow, believing thatthe rains would return and that the earthwould still serve up its bounty once more.Many would internalize the outer eventof the “Dust Bowl.” The colossal clouds ofdarkness, mountains of dirt, ruined crops,constant grit in their food and teeth,choking and claustrophobia representedWestern Kansas, the Depression and theirchildhood (my mother for one). Thisbecame their lens on the world; a worldof constant worry, fear, hunger and lack.In turn, the following generation wasmolded by parents always preparing forthe worst-case scenario, with the dustcloud always lurking on the horizon(Paton, Black blizzards, 2011).

In alchemical terms, drought and dry-ness are associated with fire and theprocess of calcinatio. Edinger (1985)spoke of calcinatio as a drying-outprocess. “The necessary frustration ofdesirousness or concupiscence” is also afeature of this alchemical stage (p. 42).The dust bowl certainty frustrated manyfarmers and perhaps some in hindsightwere able to “see the archetypal aspectof existence” (p. 44).

Following The Smoky Hill Trail

“According to an early edition ofWebster’s Unabridged Dictionary, theword ‘Kansas’ in the Indian vernacularmeans “Smoky Water.” This referenceapplies particularly to the stream

commonly known as the Smoky Hill….The Smoky Hill river is shown on earlymaps as the River of the Padoucas,from the fact that the stream has itssource in territory occupied for agesby the Comanche Indians, or, as theywere first known, Padoucas.”

—George Root, Ferries in Kansas

A few blocks from my home is a won-drous sight of equal opportunity for thedead—and the un-dead. A Bed Bath andBeyond, a TGI Fridays, a Chick-fil-Arestaurant, a four-lane highway, and ofcourse in the middle of all, a 120-year-oldpioneer cemetery enclosed with ironfencing and a five-pound padlock. I thinkthe cemetery was there first.

There are little clues to this fifty-by-fifty-square-yard plot of silent history.The modern sign emblazoned atop thefencing proclaims it as the “Melvin-LewisCemetery.” The prairie grass grows tall, itis impossible to see if any headstonesremain. A new commemorative markerlies a few feet in from the fence, but thepadlock makes it impossible to read with-out binoculars.

“The living” drive by this peculiarshopping center attraction without aglance. It does not have a drive-throughor double espressos. It does have theColorado State Anatomical Board’s regis-tered remains of the 1,662 crematedsouls who gave their earthly bodies tomedical research. Many years after a fewunregistered pioneers of the Pike’s Peakgold rush made the ground their finalhome, the University of Colorado andHealth Sciences Center bought the landand decided it was a nice spot for a fewmore bodies (Crowle, 2004).

The pioneers, Melvin and Lewis, whogave their name to the cemetery, alsocreated the small community of Melvin,Colorado. The cemetery overlookedMelvin until the houses and buildingswere condemned and submerged under

Cherry Creek Reservoir, created bydamming Cherry Creek in 1950. Melvin orMelvin City, as it was also known, beganas “12-Mile House” (Piney Creek History,2012).

From the 1850s to the 1880s, entre-preneurial ranchers and farmers erectedstagecoach stops along the ButterfieldOverland Dispatch, which followed theSmoky Hill Trail, about every four miles

Carla Paton

“In their earnest desireto create a garden forthemselves and theirchildren, the sett lerssoon recreated cit ies,decimated indigenouspeoples and species,and created vast dust bowls of

over-cult ivated topsoil”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

25

along Cherry Creek, from the present dayParker, Colorado to the terminus of theSmoky Hill Trail in Denver. The owners ofthe “mile houses,” like John Melvin, pro-vided fresh mules or horse teams, meals,lodging, and goods to weary gold seekerswho had made the dangerous trek fromLeavenworth, Kansas and other locales ofeastern civil society (Lee, 1980). If theysurvived the frequent Indian attacks, bro-ken wagons, starvation, or cannibalism ofthe “Starvation Trail,” they could enjoythe region’s then-largest hotel, whichJohn and his wife Jane built at Melvin.After the hotel, John and others added atavern, post office, and a half-mile race-track, all now tranquilly rotting under thewater of Cherry Creek Reservoir.

I know that some parts of Melvin stilllinger by the ancient cottonwoods thathave survived the years and water inva-sion. As I walk the trails around the reser-voir, now a State Park, I wander off theworn path and seek out the shade whereI know John and Jane once sat. A few bro-ken stone foundations speak from thedirt far from anyone’s notice exceptthose seeking wagon wheel ruts andshadows.

Conclusion

“Grass is the most widely distributedof all vegetable beings and is at once

the type of our life and the emblem ofour mortality…the carpet of the infantbecomes the blanket of the dead.”

—John James Ingalls, In Praise of Blue Grass

Although there has been a successfuleffort in Kansas to mark the Smoky HillTrail and the Butterfield OverlandDispatch, this has not been the case inColorado. Little remains of the trailexcept for a few plaques, a road called“Smoky Hill Road,” and the name of ahigh school (which my children attended).I would venture that most residents nearthe road or high school have no knowl-edge of the Smoky Hill River (which origi-nates much further east) or the long his-tory of its namesake’s trail.

Likewise, the majority of descendantsof the Great Plains pioneers have movedto large cities, forgetting or never know-ing their cultural heritage. With this for-getting, comes a loss of connection to theland and place that shaped the psyche ofits inhabitants and engaged the soul ofthe place. If we lose this connection tothe open prairie, we stand to lose ouropen-heartedness and the wide spaceswhere psyche can move and breathefreely in boundless expanse of sky andground. Jones (2000) echoed this arche-

typal power of place:

We are part of the prairie; it is partof us. We inhale moisture given offby the transpiring grasses andbreathe the oxygen they create dur-ing photosynthesis. We eat the seedsof the wheat, barley, and rye, andthe roots of the other prairie plants.Our blood flows with the same mole-cules that nourish the big bluestem

and cottonwood. Our collectivememories radiate from the dustysavannas of central Africa and con-verge on the blood-soaked plains ofthe American West…Should wedestroy what remains, we will losemuch more than Indian grass, black-footed ferrets, burrowing owls, andgrasshopper sparrows. We will losean irreplaceable work of creation, acritical strand in the web of life thatbinds us to this planet and keeps ourhumanity and spirit whole. We may,in Sweet Medicine’s words, “becomeworse than crazy.” (pp. 154-155)

Edinger (1985) also related that, like theopen plains, “the prima materia is undif-ferentiated, without definite boundaries,limits, or form. This corresponds to a cer-tain experience of the unconscious thatexposes the ego to the infinite, the ape-iron” (p. 12).

When my parents are gone, I know Imay be one of the last generation to feel“part of the prairie” and it part of me.Still, I am bringing my children out to theEastern Colorado plains soon. We hope tobring some buffalo back to the land; wehope to see the stars. I hope we can, fora time, sit out on the back porch, with myfather, and watch the billowing sky signs.Perhaps I will one day hold a grandbabyon my hip and tell them about the nearbypioneer trail. We can get down on ourhands and knees to feel the native grass-

“Our collective memories radiate fromthe dusty savannas ofcentral Africa and

converge on the blood-soaked plains of the

American West”

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A Horizon in Every Direction

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

es that have tough roots that grow deepinto the heart of the land.

Notes

Archetype. (n.d.). In Dictionary.com.Retrieved July 27, 2012, from http://dic-tionary.reference.com/browse/arche-type?s=t

Cather, W. (1999). Novels & Stories, 1905-1918. New York: College Editions.

Chalquist, C., & Gomes, M. E. (2007).Terrapsychology: Re-engaging the Soulof Place. New Orleans: Spring JournalBooks.

Chalquist, C. (2012). “TI2: An IntegrativeMethodology for Coming Home toPlace, Nature, Matter, and Earth”.Retrieved July 27, 2012, fromTerraPsych.com, http://www.ter-rapsych.com/

Chevalier, J., & Gheerbrant, A. (1996). ThePenguin Dictionary of Symbols. London:Penguin.

Conforti, M. (2003). Field, Form and Fate.New Orleans, LA: Spring Journal Books.

Crowle, C. (2004). CCHVS: History. RetrievedJuly 27, 2012, from http://www.cher-rycreekvalleyhistoricalsociety.org/histo-ry.htm

Edinger, E. F. (1985). Anatomy of thePsyche: Alchemical Symbolism inPsychotherapy. La Salle, Ill: Open Court.

Ehrlich, G. (2002). “Landscape”. In L.Anderson, & T.S. Edwards, At Home onThis Earth: Two Centuries of U.S.Women’s Nature Writing (p. 307).Hanover, NH: University Press of NewEngland.

Heat, M. W. L. (1991). PrairyErth: (A DeepMap). Boston: Houghton Mifflin.

Hillman, J. (1983). Archetypal Psychology: ABrief Account. Dallas: SpringPublications.

Ingalls, J. J. “In Praise of Blue Grass”.Retrieved July 27, 2012, fromhttp://naldc.nal.usda.gov/download/IND43894989/PDF

Jones, S. R. (2006). The Last Prairie: ASandhills Journal. Lincoln: University ofNebraska Press.

Jung, C. G. (1971). “A Psychological Theoryof Types” (R.F.C. Hull, Trans.). In H. Readet al. (Series Eds.), The Collected Worksof C.G. Jung (Vol. 6). Princeton, NJ:Princeton University Press.

_____., & Hull, R. F. C. (1959). CollectedWorks of C.G. Jung/ [Vol. 9, part 1] TheArchetypes and the CollectiveUnconscious. New York, N.Y: PantheonBooks.

_____., & Sabini, M. (2002). The Earth Has a

Soul: The Nature Writings of C.G. Jung.Berkeley, Calif: North Atlantic Books.

Lee, W. C., & Raynesford, H. C.(1980). Trails of the Smoky Hill:From Coronado to the CowTowns. Caldwell, Idaho: CaxtonPrinters.

Marx, L. (1964). The Machine in the Garden:Technology and the Pastoral Ideal inAmerica. New York: Oxford UniversityPress.

Paton, C. (2011, May 16). A State of Being.Retrieved June 3, 2011, from PacificaGraduate Institute Course DJA 800DesireToLearn site.

_____. (2011, January 17). Black Blizzards.Retrieved June 4, 2011, from PacificaGraduate Institute Course DJA 720DesireToLearn site.

Piney Creek History. (2012). Retrieved July27, 2012,http://www.pineycreek.org/info.php?pnum=15

Pollan, M. (1990). Why mow? The caseagainst lawns. In S. H. Slovic, & T. F.Dixon, Being in the world: AnEnvironmental Reader for Writers (pp.433-443). New York, New York:Macmillan Publishing Company.

Quantic, D. D. (1997). The Nature of thePlace: A Study of Great Plains Fiction.Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press.

Root, G. A. (1935). “Ferries in Kansas, PartVI — Smoky Hill River”. Retrieved July29, 2012,http://www.kancoll.org/khq/1935/35_1_root.htm

von Franz, M. L. & Hillman, J. (1971).Lectures on Jung’s Typology. Dallas, TX:Spring Publications.

Whitmont, E. C., & C.G. JungFoundation for AnalyticalPsychology. (1969). The SymbolicQuest: Basic Concepts ofAnalytical Psychology. New York:Published by Putnam for the C.G.Jung Foundation for AnalyticalPsychology.

Worster, D. (2004). Dust Bowl: The SouthernPlains in the 1930s. Oxford: OxfordUniversity Press.

Carla Paton is a PhD student in the DepthPsychology program with an Emphasis inJungian and Archetypal Studies at PacificaGraduate Institute. She resides inColorado and is a database administratorwith 20 years of corporate experience.Her interests include using image in thecreative process, the archetype of place,the dark goddess, cyborgs, and the inter-section of the feminine and technology.

What She SeesBy Brian Michael Tracy

I once saw a girl standing in the rain,the umbrella in her hand closed.Closed to the moonless night, the unlit houses,the cats wet underneath their wicker chairsand the cars and tires hissing by.

When I recall her there, motionless, there is no color.Sometimes I think that if I pull back far enough,open my memory wide enough,more light will come: vulnerable, elapsed,to land on her and what she sees.

As it is the image has become so bold in its monotone,so dense, each gray detail dissolving into the black of the other,that the cars have stopped, the cats stilled,the rain no longer wet.

And so it comes to me now that I stand next to heras close as one can

without touching.

Carla Paton

26Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

27

From the perspective of DepthPsychology the symbols expressed

within a dream reveal deep levels of thepersonality of the dreamer, the psycheexpressing itself in imagery. The myster-ies of human existence can be enteredvia the dream, providing an inner per-spective unknown to consciousness.Jung saw the dream as a hidden portalto the innermost recesses of the soul,“the utterance of the unconscious.”

Something is unconscious because ithas not yet been lived. Jung refers to theCollective Unconscious, a deeper levelthan the Personal Unconscious. Jungmeant by this, an experience that isinherently human. The symbolism thatoccurs in the psyche of individuals repre-sents patterns that pertain to mankindas a whole.

The unconscious contains the seed,the possibilities for future experience. Asignificant part of dreams then, accord-ing to Depth Psychology’s understand-ing, lies in the expression of yet unreal-ized experience.

This essay addresses the Jewish per-spective on dreams as found in theTalmud and contrasts these findings withDepth Psychology’s approach to dreamsand their significance.

According to the Jewish perspective aperson is a partnership of body—madeup of the dust of the earth, and soul—some particle of the Divine. As Aristotleclaimed, everything has a natural affinityto its source; the body wants to returnto the earth from whence it came, andeventually it will, and the soul yearns toreturn to God. The power of the soulkeeps the body from returning to itssource while the living body has enoughforce to contain the soul. At the momentthe body loses its life force the soulescapes and is allowed the journeyhome.

There is an idea within the Talmudthat all spiritual realities have a counter-part in the physical world so that we canexperience a taste of them. Accordingly,

Talmudic sages claim that “Sleep is one-sixtieth of death” and “Dreams are one-sixtieth of prophecy.” (BabylonianTalmud, Berachot, 57b). The body at restabdicates control, while the soul sepa-rates a bit and roams free. Immediatelyupon awakening each morning the piousJew recites the following prayer: “I amgrateful to You, O living and eternal King,for You have returned my soul within me

with compassion—abundant is Your gra-ciousness” (Siddur, 1984 p. 2).

In dreams, according to the Jewishmystical tradition of the Kabbalah,although the meeting of souls some-times takes place among the living, moreoften the medium of the dream enablesone to meet with the dead. Obviouslynot possible body to body, this can bepossible soul to soul: the departed comeback to speak, often to warn the living ofpending catastrophe. Talmudic lorerelates stories where rabbis, uncertain ofa law, went to sleep. In their dreams aformer sage appeared to them informingthem where to search for the informa-tion, something they would not other-wise have known.

The Jewish tradition discusses themessage, the meaning, and the methodof dreams. A dream can include the con-cept of prophecy (Maimonides saidthere are twelve levels of prophecy). TheTalmud says that not a thing transpires

on earth without having first beenannounced in a dream. The message inthe dream is delivered in its own particu-lar code—its own language—which mustbe deciphered to be understood.Another statement in the Talmuddeclares: “Nothing happens to a man,good or ill, before he has beheld someintimation of it in a dream” (BabylonianTalmud Berachot, 55a).

To determine the veracity of a partic-ular dream one must examine the princi-ples by which the interpreter made hisdecisions; for example, via a study of thestars, of the dreamer’s character, of thefoods he had consumed before retiring,etc. Some rules from the Talmud instructthat if the dream images are clear andvivid and leave the dreamer moved oragitated, the dream is usually trustwor-thy. This suggests that if you can’tremember a dream, you can forget it. Ifit leaves little impression, it may be dis-regarded, but if it asks to be remem-bered, it wants to be remembered, andone should attend to it. Other guidelinespropose that a dream that occurs in theearly night, before the process of diges-tion has started, either has no signifi-cance or it may concern the past. Adream that occurs in the middle of thenight, while food is being digested mayor may not have importance. And mostdreams that take place in the earlymorning, when the process of digestionhas been completed, come true(Babylonian Talmud Berachot, 55b). Thisis so because then the body is less activeat that time; one is more soul than bodyin that moment. (Talmudic authors rec-ognize that any physical stimulus affectsthe dream—be it a full stomach, heat orcold.)

Talmudist Rabbi Yochanan said threekinds of dreams come true: an earlymorning dream, the dream which some-one else has about one, and most pow-erful of all—the dream which is inter-preted by another dream (BabylonianTalmud Berachot, 55b). If the symbolic

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Dreams in the Talmud and in Depth Psychology

By Susan Vorhand

In dreams, according tothe Jewish mystical tradi-tion of the Kabbalah,

although the meeting ofsouls sometimes takes

place among the living,more often the medium ofthe dream enables one to

meet with the dead.

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

28

material of one dream is decoded andmade clearer in a second dream, this isan indicator that it is imperative that thedreamer understand the content so thathe get the message. Some commenta-tors also put into this category thedream that is repeated.

To assure that people won’t go madif they accept all dreams as predictive,the Talmud states that each dream alsocontains within it some nonsense, andthat “while a part of a dream may be ful-filled, the whole of it is never fulfilled”(Babylonian Talmud Berachot, 55a).

Though we can be pretty certain thatFreud did not study the Talmud, theTalmudic interpretation of symbolism issimilar to that of Freud. The Talmuddescribes many dreams, covering manydifferent categories; visions of places,activity, animals, fruits, etc., and revealstheir significance (Babylonian TalmudBerachot, 55b-58a). Rab Hanan said:“There are three types of dreams whichsignify peace, namely, about a river, abird, and a pot” (5Gb). In the dreamwherein someone waters an olive treewith olive oil, the interpretation accord-ing to the Talmud is that this symbolizesincest (57a). While symbols not sexual inthemselves are interpreted as havingsexual meaning, symbols that are direct-ly and blatantly sexual are interpreted bythe Talmud as having a meaning that isnot sexual. Talmudic sources relate thatif someone dreams that he is having sex-ual intercourse with his mother, he canhope to acquire much wisdom, and adream of having sexual relations with amarried woman means he can beassured of his salvation (57a). TheTalmudic interpretation is based on theidea that a symbol always stands forsomething else and, therefore, a symbolwhich in itself is sexual, must denotesomething other than its manifest mean-ing.

Jung believes that the symbols cho-sen by the dream are highly significantto the dreamer. Jung, along with Freud,believed that much of the content of thepsyche is repressed and suppressedmaterial. He sees the psyche asautonomous, having its own purposeand function and teaches us that wemust look to our own inner world—per-haps to that Divine essence that is withinus to guide us and to help us find mean-ing in our lives. Jung saw dreams as a

true, objective statement of what is tak-ing place in the psyche—what is neces-sary for the individual to know.

A manuscript (Shoshan Yesod Olam,The Rose, Foundation of the Universe)compiled around 1550 by Rabbi JosephTirshom contains a collection of overtwo thousand magical formulas for thepractice of Kabbalah. An interestingpractice described in this work (and like-ly others of its genre) involves induceddreams. This is usually referred to as a“Dream Request,” where one poses aquestion and attempts to induce ananswer to appear in a dream. Aesclepiuspracticed Dream Incubation In the fifthcentury B.C. This practice is also alludedto in the Talmud. Kaplan (1982) consid-ers the significance of this practice andasserts that although some methods forinducing dreams are purely magical, thatis, mysterious and unaccountable, othersare clearer in expressing the relationship

that exists between prophecy, enlighten-ment, and dreams.

Actually the Talmudic view of dreamsis divided. The differing perspectives arethat dreams are totally meaningless, orthe nearly opposite attitude that even“normal” dreams contain sufficientprophecy to make them relevant andmeaningful. A midway stance recognizesboth the potential truth in dreams andthe fact that they also contain incidentalmaterial. Each view has as its base astatement in the Talmud that wouldseem to substantiate it (BabylonianTalmud Berachot, 55b-58a).

These (Talmudic) views possesscogent psychological opinions of dreams,as opposed to the more metaphysicalclaims that dreams are voices of disem-bodied souls, spirits and ghosts, or mes-sages from God. Dreams in the Talmudare seen as expressive of our reason,morality and unconscious wisdom, andat the same time, of our irrational striv-ings. This eclectic view seems to take inboth Freud’s view, that dreams are

expressions of the irrational, asocialnature of man, and Jung’s, which claimsthat dreams are revelations of uncon-scious wisdom, transcending the individ-ual (Fromm, 1951, p.109).

This unequivocal statement is foundin the Talmud: “A dream that is notinterpreted is like a letter that is unread”(Babylonian Talmud Berachot, 55a). Thisclearly indicates that dreams are usefulmessages and furthermore qualifies thata dream must not only be read but mustalso be interpreted for deeper meanings.This would seem to indicate that there issomething about dream content thatmust be worked through in order toderive its full import.

Rabbi Elazar says: “Every dream is inaccord with its interpretation as RabbiElazar says ...we learn this from Genesis(41:13) and just as he interpreted it, so itwas (Babylonian Talmud Berachot, 55b).That is, the meaning of a dream, or theinterpretation of a dream, varies withthe interpreter. The Talmud, case inpoint, gives an account of one rabbi whotold his dream before twenty-four differ-ent interpreters in different cities; eachinterpretation he received was uniqueand yet surprisingly, each was fulfilled(55b). This might be an indication thatthe many interpreters were notacquainted with the dreamer, as therelation between a person’s character,his life associations and his dream playsa pivotal role in dream analysis (Fromm,1951, p.142).

The Talmud (Bereshit Rabbah, 68)relates the following story:

A man came to Rabbi Jose benHalafta and said: “I was told in a dreamto go to Cappadocia and secure theremy father’s savings.”

“Did your father ever go to Cappadocia?”“Nay,” answered the man.“Then count twenty rafters in yourhouse,” said Rabbi Jose.“But there are no twenty rafters,” theman answered.“Then count from the top to the bottom,and after that, count from the bottom tothe top. When you reach twenty, removethe rafter, and there you will find themoney.”

This proved to be correct. How didthe Rabbi know? He read the words inits Greek meaning: Kappa is twenty, andDokia is rafters (Newman, 1945, pp.98-99).

Thus far we see evidence of a

Susan Vorhand

“Jung believes that thesymbols chosen by the

dream are highly significant to the dreamer”

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Talmudic belief that dreams can havesome relevance, some relation to realityif interpreted correctly. Does the Talmudattribute to dreams only this role of acarrier of unconscious messages, albeitin disguised form, or does it also recog-nize the possibility that dreams maysometimes satisfy another psychic needsuch as wish-fulfillment?

The answer might lie in the followingmaxim. Rabbi Huna says, “To a good per-son, bad dreams are shown, and to a badperson, good dreams” (BabylonianTalmud Berachot, 55b). This might be anearly postulate of the idea of wish-fulfill-ment through dreams. Perhaps it is the“shadow” side of a person that isexpressed in dreams; the “good” persondreams about actions and feelings thathe, in waking life, unconsciously repress-es, while the “bad” person fantasizesabout that which his purer “higher” selfwould rather he do or feel.

In the Hebrew language clues to themeaning of the word is hidden withinthe word itself. The word for ‘dream’ inHebrew, is chalom—whereas chalammeans to heal, cure or strengthen, andahlam means hidden or unactualized.There is also a close similarity betweenchalom (dream) and chalon, the Hebrewword for ‘window’, as if the words aretelling us that there is a connection intheir meanings as well and implying thatthe dream is a window to the soul.

Dreams are taken seriously within

Judaic lore and law. In Jewish law if onehas an ominous, dangerous, tragic, orevil dream one is obligated to fast inorder to ward off the prophetic dimen-sion of the dream. So strongly is this feltthat most commentators of Jewish lawstate that one should observe such a(dream)fast even on the holy day ofSabbath when there is usually muchfeasting and rejoicing. The rationale forthis is as follows: knowing that he isdoing something about the problem, aperson’s heart will be lighter even thanwere he festively celebrating theSabbath.

Additionally, Judaism contains ritualsin regard to dreams, their meaning, andtheir outcome. During the PriestlyBlessing (recited on the Three Festivals ayear and also on Yom Kippur), while thepriest is bestowing his blessing upon thepeople, they in turn are quietly saying aprayer constructed under intricateKabbalistic laws, requesting that theirdreams turn out for the good. In casethe dreams were bad, they plead with

God that those too should turn out to befor the good (Babylonian TalmudBerachot 55b; Siddur, p. 697).

The Keriyas Shema al Hamitah, thenight-time prayer said just before goingto sleep (Siddur, p.289), contains a hopeand a prayer for good dreams and anentreaty to God that He return the soulto the body in the morrow. The belief isthat God is guarding the soul during thedarkness of sleep—sleep, which is relat-ed to death, as you’ll recall. Thus therequest: to be returned in a state of vig-orous and sparkling light (Siddur, p. 289).

Additionally the Modeh Ani prayer(mentioned earlier in this paper) is recit-ed immediately upon awakening, afterwhich the practicing Jew is to do a ritual-istic washing of his hands, similar to thatwhich is done when he returns from acemetery. The reason for this is, as men-tioned earlier, in Judaism sleep is consid-ered to be one sixtieth part of death.Even as the body has been allowed torefresh itself during sleep, the soul hasbeen given an opportunity to refreshitself via its spiritual excursion.

Erich Fromm regards dreams as sym-bolic expressions of the soul’s experi-ence. In his book Psychoanalysis andReligion he writes that religion, in itsteachings and its rituals, speaks in sym-bolic language. He describes symboliclanguage as inner experience of thoughtand feeling expressed as sensory experi-ence—a language that we “speak…ifonly when we are asleep….The languageof dreams is not different from thatwhich is employed in myths and religiousthinking” (Fromm, 1950, p. lll).

Depth Psychology, as we know, alsoplaces a high value on dreams.Accordingly, in dreams one experiencesthe continuity of the soul as one getssubmerged in his or her inner world; adialogue is created in confrontation withthe unconscious. A subsequent dreammay be a continuation of a previous one,but is also a reaction, an answer to thework done by consciousness. That is, thedream sequence is not just a continuousseries, but between interpretation andthe understanding of the conscious egoand the material offered by the uncon-scious, there is an interchange of ques-tions and responses. In this way the lifeprocess is complete by uniting the life ofnight and day. The ego no longer feelslost and dependent, delivered up to an

Dreams in the Talmud and in Depth Psychology

“In dreams one experiences the

continuity of the soul asone gets submerged inhis or her inner world”

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30

overpowering and mysterious world ofthe soul, but rather is interwoven in acontinuum. Besides the day’s remnantsand images of friends and family, per-sonified components of the personalityappear in dreams: split off and repressedparts, former stages of the ego and atti-tudes, undeveloped tendencies, and thestill infantile germs of development yetto come.

With a further understanding of thepsyche-soma connection it becomesclearer how knowledge of the body canbe transmitted through a dream.Correctly utilizing this information canallow for healing to take place as onemakes the necessary changes in his orher life (Rossi, 19S5).

Thus, with some knowledge of therichness and the meaningfulness of con-cepts in the Talmud and regarding thenature and the mechanics of dreams,their message, and their value, we learnthat what the Jewish tradition teacheshas some things in common with DepthPsychology’s approach and also demon-strates some interesting differences.

Notes

Babylonian Talmud: Berachot. (Hebrew-English Edition) (1984). R.D.I. Epstein(Eds). London: The Soncino Press.

Freud, S. (1913). The Interpretation ofDreams. New York: The MC MillanCompany.

Fromm, E. (1950). Psychanalysis and

Religion. New York: Yale University Press.Johnson, R. (1986) Inner Work: Using Dreams

& Active Imagination for PersonalGrowth. New York: Harper and Row.Jung, C.G. (1989). Memories, Dreams,Reflections. New York: Vintage Books.

Kaplan, A. (1982). Meditation and Kabbalah.Maine: Samuel Weiser Inc.

Newman, L.J. (1945). The TalmudicAnthology. New York. Behrman House,Inc.

Rossi, E.L. (1985). Dreams and the Growth ofPersonality. (2nd edition.) New York:Brunner/Mazel.

Siddur Kol Yaakov/The Complete Artscroll

Siddur. (1984). New York: MesorahPublication.

The Torah: A New Translation (1962).Philadelphia: The Jewish PublicationSociety of America.

Susan Vorhand earned her PhD in DepthPsychology at Pacifica. She lectures, leadsworkshops and facilitates support groupswith an emphasis on Soul-Centered thera-py. She has published numerous essays,articles and short stories and is theauthor of the book The Mosaic Within: An Alchemy of Healing Self and Soul.

Susan Vorhand

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

VoyageBy Kathryn LaFevers EvansThree Eagles, Chickasaw Nation

How many days have the Islands descendedfrom the night at dawnto float upon the horizon,

these Islands in the sky?

I heard of them from an old friend.And now I see them, daily alighting,

upon the misted sea-sky.

How many people, barefoot and brown,have watched them descend,from ancient times?

Do they think of shells, buried in piles and white,bone white,beneath the wild boars’ feet.

Are we thinking still,of the sunsets from the Island shores,the shellfish meals,the seal pelts.

I can see the Island safely from these hills.No need to tar my canoe.

I can sit in an old wind caveand be glad for animal skins in winter.

How many grains of this sandstone rock have blown out to sea,to rise up upon the Island shore?

How many more?

Will I watch every evening,to see these Islands in the skyrise up into the Heavens?

I will tar my canoe,And ride up upon them to meet You.

©2012

<Back to TOCDepth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

Photo copyright Kathryn LaFevers Evans (Three Eagles)

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“In the last analysis, the essential thing isthe life of the individual. This alone makeshistory, here alone do the great transfor-mations take place, and the whole future,the whole history of the world, ultimatelysprings as a gigantic summation from thishidden source in individuals.”1

— C.G. Jung

We are living in an age widelyregarded as “apocalyptic,”

though many of us steadfastly try tokeep the lid on our share of apocalypticawareness. But, in the end, it is better tolift the lid and peer into the cauldron.Every therapist understands this, andevery patient should as well. And themost direct way of seeing into the livingdarkness that surrounds us is throughour dreams.

My approach to depth psychologyhas been conditioned by one particularpassage from Jung, the first example ofhis writing I had ever seen. When I firstread this quote, in 1972, the wordsburned into my imagination like tonguesof flame:

Anyone who wants to know thehuman psyche will learn next tonothing from experimental psychol-ogy. He would be better advised toabandon exact science, put awayhis scholar’s gown, bid farewell tohis study, and wander with humanheart through the world. There, inthe horrors of prisons, lunatic asy-lums and hospitals, in drab subur-ban pubs, in brothels and gambling-hells, in the salons of the elegant,the Stock Exchanges, socialist meet-ings, churches, revivalist gatheringsand ecstatic sects, through love andhate, through the experience ofpassion in every form in his ownbody, he would reap richer storesof knowledge than text-books afoot thick could give him, and hewill know how to doctor the sickwith a real knowledge of the humansoul.2

In this same spirit I offer this essay,the title of which derives from one par-ticular dream that, in a surprising way,qualifies for the designation “apocalyp-tic.” It forced itself on my attention thir-ty-three years ago. Before presenting thedream, however, I would like to sketch afew elements of the historical context ofthat time.

In 1980, the Cold War between theU.S. and the Soviet Union was in fullforce. Ronald Reagan was about to takeoffice and, once he did, he would assumethe duties of Commander-in-Chief,including decisive command over a U.S.arsenal of more than 23,000 nuclear

warheads—tough-guy steroids ofunimaginable potency. His Soviet adver-sary, Leonid Brezhnev, had more than32,000 warheads at his disposal, a nine-thousand nuclear-bomb advantage. Thetone of discourse between the twosuperpowers was blatantly antagonistic,and people were understandably uneasy.

Around the world, testing of nuclearweapons had become routine. Severalnations were blowing the bowels out ofcoral reefs, cactus-strewn deserts andremote expanses of tundra. Radioactivefallout in the form of Strontium-90 rodethe jet stream around the globe, showingup in mothers’ milk and babies’ teeth.

Against this turbulent background, Iattended several inaugural conferencesfeaturing archetypal psychologist JamesHillman and sponsored by the HumanRelations Institute—early precursor toPacifica Graduate Institute. There we sat

at Casa de María in Montecito, south ofSanta Barbara, amidst the aching beautyof orange trees, oaks and bougainvillea,beneath the Mediterranean arches andtile roofs of the conference center, dis-cussing with Hillman his work on return-ing soul to the world, the thought of theheart, alchemy, ceilings, walking, indus-trial food and other topics reflecting hisoff-beat perspective. Despite the lushsurroundings and richness of the conver-sations, the unspoken, apocalyptic con-text of nuclear war haunted the proceed-ings. It was not something people oftentalked about, but it hung heavy in theair.

One evening, several other partici-pants and I went out for dinner, and thediscussion veered toward our fantasiesof what we all spontaneously called “thepost-apocalyptic future.” Everyone pres-ent voiced unanimous concerns that thepoliticians would finally lose their heads,push the buttons and send a host ofICBMs—Inter-Continental BallisticMissiles—flying back and forth across theoceans. The next morning I awoke withthis dream:

Hillman and I are walking along aspit of land, across the bay from abustling shipping port. We areengaged in a long conversation, atthe end of which James says to me:“If you want to see the post-apoca-lyptic future, look at downtownTokyo today.”

This dream struck me with unusualforce because it completely jarred mythinking about the unsettling prospectswe had all been imagining as “yet tocome.” As a result of this dream, I wouldhenceforth understand “the post-apoca-lyptic future” as something that wasalready taking place—not anticipatoryfantasy, but present perception.Furthermore, we participants had allbeen imagining “the apocalypse” primari-ly in terms of bombs, whereas the dreamoffered the seemingly prosaic image of a

The Role and Value of Dreamsin a Post-Apocalyptic Future

By Paco Mitchell

“Despite the lush surroundings and richnessof the conversations, theunspoken, apocalypticcontext of nuclear war

haunted the proceedings”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

bustling and successful modern city as anexample of the post-apocalyptic future.That such authoritative words should

issue from the mouth of the Hillmandream-figure came as no surprise, sincein reality I admired the mind and writingsof the actual Hillman. But I was notinclined to force personal interpretationsupon the dream—lurking idealized pro-jections, for example. What really inter-ested me about the dream—and stilldoes—was the non-personal message ofglobal import implicit in the punch line.This simple dream was a news-dispatchworth a dozen Presidential press confer-ences, fit for broadcast far beyond mypersonal dream journal. But why Tokyo? For one thing, Tokyo

in those days was entering its acceleratedphase of economic go-go years, in a sortof parallel to the 1980s de-regulationmania in the U.S. Thus, I took Tokyo, inpart, as a reflection from across thePacific of our own values, an unconsciousview of the shadow of the West. After all,in the post-WWII occupation period,Japan having been bombed into submis-sion, it was we who recreated them inour own image, bestowing upon theJapanese our value-systems of econom-ics, government and life-style in theperennial fashion of conquerors every-where. My dream clothed that historicalreality in apocalyptic garb, thus com-menting as much upon our own economicvalue system as upon any geo-politicalnuclear conflicts. In a strange way, thedream echoed visionary historianTheodore Roszak’s summary of the globalcivilizational crisis:

The Last Days were announced toSt. John by a voice like the sound ofmany waters. But the voice thatcomes in our day summoning us toplay out the dark myth of the reck-oning is our meager own, makingcasual conversation about the vari-eties of annihilation . . . the thermo-nuclear Armageddon, the death ofthe seas, the vanishing atmosphere,the massacre of the innocents, theuniversal famine to come . . . Suchhorrors should be the stuff of night-mare . . . They aren’t. They are thenews of the day . . . We have notstumbled into the arms of Gog andMagog; we have progressed there.3

In other words, our present value sys-

tem, our very Weltanshauung, has sad-dled us with all the trouble we can han-dle.My dream portrayed “downtown

Tokyo today”—with its hyper-density ofpopulation, its hyper-intense activity andhyper-excessive everything—as an epito-me of the apocalyptic state which,according to the dream, we have alreadyreached. And judging from current world-population projections, technological andecological trends, there is more of thesame to come. Whenever I read anenthusiastic article about how technologi-cal advances in food production—GMOseeds, ever-more-clever pesticides,genetically-engineered salmon, etc.—willenable us to feed many additional billionsof people, on top of what we alreadyhave, I think of the dream of post-apoca-lyptic Tokyo, and I feel no comfort.

* * *

My brief Hillman dream is one of sev-eral I have recorded that can be read inthe context of the “post-apocalypticfuture.” In various ways, those dreamsare all revelatory and transpersonal.Many are quite dramatic, as we wouldexpect, and it would certainly be worth-while to treat them in another essay, orseries of essays. For the time being I justwant to crack the door open on the ques-tion of apocalyptic expectations. Dreamscan help us process those expectations byupdating the old Biblical fantasies andinterpretations, and supplying new wordsand images with which to imagine ourway into the future. In his great but underrated book

Flying Saucers: A Modern Myth of ThingsSeen in the Sky,4 Jung puts our positioninto perspective:

The present world situation is calcu-lated as never before to arouseexpectations of a redeeming, super-natural event. If these expectations

have not dared to show themselvesin the open, this is simply becauseno one is deeply rooted enough inthe tradition of earlier centuries toconsider an intervention from heav-en as a matter of course. We haveindeed strayed far from the meta-physical certainties of the MiddleAges, but not so far that our histori-cal and psychological background isempty of all metaphysical hope.Consciously, however, rationalisticenlightenment predominates, andthis abhors all leanings towards the“occult.”Although Jung’s book was devoted to

an examination of UFO reports as symp-toms of a modern myth in the process offorming, the larger syndrome of a myth-in-progress includes more than just flyingsaucer sightings, reports of abductions, orfirst-person accounts of being “probed”by aliens. The fact is that revelatory(apocalyptic) images are most likelyflooding the dream-field as we speak,enriching our personalities and lives likesilt from the rising waters of the Nile. Theaggregation of these dream images andthe life-experiences associated with themwill contribute over time to the formationof the new myth. Whatever metaphor wechoose—a birth, an approaching dawn,an awakening—the features and fulldimensions of this emerging phenome-non are scarcely discernible as yet.However, this should not deter us fromkeeping our eyes open, or lending ourshoulders to the wheel. Most specialized readers in depth psy-

chology will know that apokalypsis inGreek means “uncovering,” in the senseof the revelation of something hidden.Implicit in the tradition of the word isthat what is hidden, and is in the processof being revealed, can be thought of asdynamic events taking place in the realmof the collective unconscious—in tradi-tional language, “heaven.” Truly apoca-lyptic dreams will always reveal some-thing about events on archetypal levels,no matter “where” they are depicted ashappening.Archetypes of the collective uncon-

scious are sometimes discussed as if theywere static phenomena, fixed categoriesof experience such as the Magician, theWise Old Woman, the Trickster, and soforth; or they are treated as if their reali-ty lay in bloodless conceptual formulas

33

The Role and Value of Dreams in a Post-Apocalyptic Future

“Revelatory (apocalyptic)images are most likelyflooding the dream-fieldas we speak, enrichingour personalit ies andlives like silt from the

rising waters of the Nile”

<Back to TOCDepth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

such as “an inherited pattern of thought.”Such definitions are handy teachingdevices, to be sure, even indispensible,and Jung himself employed them overand over in his tireless efforts to explainwhat he meant by “archetypes.” But hewould be the first to agree that conceptu-al language falls short of conveying theliving experience of the actual dynamismof archetypal energies constellated at thelevel of real life. Even if an archetypemaintains a striking consistency in itsmanifestations over millennia, the imagesin which it appears, and the energies itexudes, still operate in both dreams andthe world in the most impressive anddynamic ways. Jung once observed that“An encounter with archetypal energy isa bare-knuckled event.” We might add tohis statement this caveat: Crowds are lessequipped to grapple creatively with anoutbreak of archetypal energy than indi-viduals are. Jung had many things to sayabout the sapping of individuality byimmersion in crowds, e.g., “The biggerthe crowd, the more negligible the indi-vidual.” With a world population of sevenbillion and counting, this effect becomesproblematic for all of us.

I should emphasize that the collectiveunconscious—the source of all apocalyp-tic images—is not just a vault or reposito-ry for the “deposits” of collective experi-ence. Those contents change and evolve,producing movements of the epistemo-logical ground beneath our feet, as whentectonic plates slide and grind past oneanother upon a sea of magma.Sometimes, as in an earthquake, theplates jerk loose to assume drasticallynew configurations. In other words, evenat archetypal levels of the psyche,changes sometimes occur violently andsuddenly. Because of this dynamic qualityof archetypal “bedrock,” the veneratedimages and understandings of tradition,of necessity, have to be periodically re-defined and re-interpreted, hence thedanger in the certainties of fanatic funda-mentalisms of any kind. Jung expressedthe psychological imperative of thisevolving dynamism of the archetypal psy-che in eloquent terms:

In order to find valid answers tothese questions a complete spiritualrenewal is needed. And this cannotbe given gratis, each man muststrive to achieve it for himself.Neither can old formulas which once

had a value be brought into forceagain. The eternal truths cannot betransmitted mechanically; in everyepoch they must be born anew fromthe human psyche. [Emphasisadded.]5

When Jung says, “born anew from thehuman psyche,” he is referring above allto the individual human psyche as birth-place. Human collectives, such as nation-states, political parties or even churchcongregations, may show symptoms ofarchetypal shifts in the form of disturbedemotions or moods, but that is not thesame thing as re-birth, strictly speaking.In fact, it is often more like a possessionor seizure. The great modern example ofthis type of collective possession is what

happened with the Germans under Hitler.Even in the U.S., when Ronald Reaganwas swept into power in the 1980 elec-tions, many journalists commented onthe “mood of the nation.” I too noticedthat mood, and I find that it, or some-thing very similar, still persists in our poli-tics today, a sobering fact indeed. Theescalation of un-reflected emotionality incrowds can be dangerous, and shouldserve as a spur to critical self-reflection,since those emotions are so often arecontaminated with shadowed complexes.Such emotions require differentiation,which is not a strong suit in large massesof people.

But why can’t the mood of a crowdserve as womb for the re-birth of thesacred images? In my view, it is partlybecause those new images are alwaysexquisitely custom-fitted to the individualpsyches that receive them, but alsobecause such images impose an ethicalburden that crowds are ill-equipped tobear. For ethics, we must refer to theindividual soul, which has to rise to theoccasion in order to meet the Other face-to-face, as it were. Whether in the form

of dreams, visions or creative fantasies,the brunt of the newly-delivered divineimage is first carried by the individual.Only later can archetypal contents beassimilated by groups, which is why polit-ical movements are not the first place tolook for the healing formula.

In this context, it may be worth notingthat in traditional Biblical iconography,when Mary first hears the angel’sAnnunciation of the divine life she is car-rying, she is usually depicted as sittingalone, in a cloister, perhaps with a bookin her hand. Some form of cloistered con-sciousness, apart from the hubbub of thecrowd, is necessary to hear the angel’swhisper.6 John of Patmos, madly scrib-bling his revelation, may be an exampleof such an individual; or Moses on Sinai;or Jesus in the desert; or Mohammed onthe mountain.

But it would be an enormous mistaketo think that only cultural avatars likethese great, legendary figures can serveas the birthplace for new images of thedivine. As Meister Eckhart put it, “Whatgood is it to me if the son of God wasborn to Mary 1400 years ago but is notborn in my person and in my culture and

in my time?”7 What was true for MeisterEckhart is true for us today, hence theimportance of dreams and imagination inthe individual.

This responsibility of individuals is allthe more enhanced by the charged andpeculiar circumstances of the present his-torical moment. Despite Christian teach-ings, which imply that all the revelationsever needed are safely contained withinthe Bible, the fact is that apocalyptic, rev-elatory impulses from the collectiveunconscious are just as necessary, andjust as valid, today as they were twothousand years ago, when the classicalworld of antiquity was breaking down.Now, when we lay our heads on our pil-lows at night, each of us participates in akind of dream-lottery, to determine whoand how many will wake up to find themantle of John of Patmos on their shoul-ders, inscribing their own versions ofapokalypsis onto the parchments of theirdream journals—fragments of the new,soon-to-be-assembled Book ofRevelation.

There is an underlying tone ofurgency in everything I have said above.The archetypal shift we are undergoing,

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Paco Mitchell

“The eternal truths cannot be transmittedmechanically; in everyepoch they must beborn anew from the

human psyche”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

in the transition from one age to another,would be agonizing enough under the“normal” conditions that have attached totransitional ages in the past: the shiftfrom Paleolithic to Neolithic with theonset of agriculture, for example; theadvent of writing and recorded history;the collapse of Greece under Roman dom-ination; the onset of the Christian era twothousand years ago; or the millennialexpectations of the end-of-the-world thathad Europe in an uproar in the eleventhcentury A.D.

But a new and supercharged, game-changing element has now entered thepicture, on a scale of potential severity wehave never had to deal with before. I amreferring to the climate crisis and anthro-pogenic global warming (AGW), and allthe consequences that proceed from that.

My response to this atmosphere of“apocalyptic” crisis and the acceleratedlevels of climate change is to emphasizethe importance of visionary dreams assources of guidance and wisdom throughthe present and coming turmoil. RecentlyI had a brief dream that put this feeling ofurgency into context.

The dream showed a basic graph, plot-ting two variables against an X-axis and Y-axis, representing the increase in globalpopulation and the flow of time. Thewhole graph had the shape of a squarefilled with a large X, the variable linescriss-crossing in the center. The ascendingline ran upward on a straight diagonal,

showing the increase in global populationfrom one billion to eight billion. Thedescending line, also straight and diago-nal, represented the span of time—asbest I could judge in the dream—from1830 to 2030. There was a twist, however,in that the descending time-line repre-sented the time remaining for humanbeings to devise a new and viable form ofexistence. The dream-graph clearly statedthat by the time our total populationreaches eight billion in about 2030, theamount of time remaining to come upwith new forms of existence will have

expired. What that portends is anyone’sguess.

I do not take this dream literally, butneither do I dismiss it. It is telling ussomething. And it resonates in two wayswith the Hillman dream I describedbefore: (1) it portrays something “post-apocalyptic” that is currently in progress;and (2) it does not show frantic humansscurrying about under attack from aliens,but simply offers a business-as-usual arti-

fact—the graph—which could have comefrom a report of divisional sales figures atsome corporate headquarters. In otherwords, the dream-graph was mathemati-cally impersonal and devoid of pathos, asif simply saying: This is a fact; this is hap-pening.

In my opinion, the dream calls for asober recognition of the situation we arein. It also calls for a sober application ofwhatever images of renewal come to usfrom the creative depths of the visionary,dreaming psyche. And by “application” Imean taking our dreams seriously andfinding ways to respond to them ethically.

Note that the graph dream is neutral,offering no guarantee as to outcome. Thatis up to us. Whether we feel the burdenof it consciously or not, we are living in anage that places an unusual ethicaldemand on each of us. The challenge is totemper our one-sided consciousness witha balance that can only come from theother side of the scale.

Notes

1 Jung, C. G., Civilization in Transition, CW10:315

2 Jung, C. G., The Psychology of theUnconscious, CW7: 409

3 Roszak, Theodore, Where the WastelandEnds, p. ix.

4 Jung, C. G., Flying Saucers: A Modern Mythof Things Seen in the Sky, (Princeton:Bollingen Series, Princeton UniversityPress, 1978), par. 623.

5 Jung, C. G. 1970. After the Catastrophe. InCivilization in Transition. Bollingen SeriesXX: The Collected Words of C. G. Jung,vol. 18. Princeton: Princeton UniversityPress.

6 I am indebted, for this insight, to ThomasMoore, who gave a wonderful presenta-tion at the 1989 conference “A Gatheringof Angels,” sponsored by the DallasInstitute for Humanities and Culture. Allpresentations were later published in TheAngels, Robert Sardello, ed. (Dallas: TheDallas Institute Publications, 1994.) SeeMoore’s paper, “Annunciation,” on p. 11.

Paco Mitchell has studied dreams anddepth psychology since 1972. During thattime he has practiced as a JungianTherapist, operated his own art bronzefoundry as a sculptor, and performed as aflamenco guitarist. He holds advanceddegrees in Romance Languages fromStanford University, and CounselingPsychology from the University of Oregon.

35

The Role and Value of Dreams in a Post-Apocalyptic Future

<Back to TOC

“The descending time-line represented thetime remaining for

human beings to devisea new and viable form

of existence”

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

36

The Yellow ButterflyBy Thali Bower Williams

I walked along the shore yesterdayAnd witnessed

A powerful oceanFalling melodiously upon itself.

Then to my surpriseA small yellow butterfly

Crossed my path,Heading determinedly out to seaIn its own rag-tag butterfly way.

Imagine that!Delicate and fragile wings

Fluttering with great purpose,Driven by instinctual desire,

To be above magnificent, thrusting oceanic swellWith only the endless, pulsating,

Shifting, watery depthsTo meet its journey’s end.

What courage, this little creature!

I wonder if it knew that Autumnal death awaited,Out, over that vast ocean.

I wonder if it cared.

Perhaps fulfilling soul’s dreamingsWas all that really mattered?

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

37

Special thanks to JaneJohnston for the cover art,a ritual Mandala entitled“Surrender.” Jane writes:

Jung observed mandalas,or sacred circles, depicted in art world-wide are representations of the self, andthat drawing these circles assist in thecontainment and integration of lifeevents.

Engaging in a deep inquiry requiresa large container, and a year long medi-tation of painting a sacred mandalawhile holding a particular question ischallenging, surprising, healing, truthful,connective and transformational. Thisform of self inquiry disrupts binaries,deepens self-awareness, and knowledgeof the relationships between all things isgained allowing for a more realizedwholeness.

The mandala is structured in suchas way as to allow the painter accessinto progressively deeper levels ofawareness, consciously moving throughpersonal obstacles/defences. Both theinner and the outer world is engagedand unfolding synchronistic events speakto the question held. The goal is to freeup the energy used to suppress andrepress unconscious content throughintegration of experience.

The sacred mandala structure andmeditative processes was taught to meby my spiritual mentor, MadeleineShields (died November 16, 2005).Shields was a student of Jack Wise, awell known BC artist who made a life-time study of the mandala. Shieldsenlarged on his work by engaging the

images that arose in active imagination,forming a bridge between the consciousand unconscious, in aid of individuation.She mentored students on a one to onebasis, and I was her student from 1995to 1998.

Unlike traditional mandalas, inthese “Western forms” the images arenot predetermined but rather arise outof the paint/unconscious. The thick andtextured water colour paper is pre-wet-ted thus the paint is immediately pulledin and as it moves along the fibres,images emerge, much as they do inclouds or puddles.

The brain makes patterns and themind makes meaning of thesepatterns.The images are then carefullypainted in, and this is part of the medita-tive process in bringing full attention tothe end of one's brush. At a later stage,the images are worked with consciously,amplified in written dialogue, much as adream would be tended.

Ultimately, the work is about delib-erately entering the experience of whatarises and holding the tension conscious-ly in order to transform. It is about creat-ing sacred space for all parts to be heldin non-duality, bringing forward a morerealized, empathic self with which tomeet the world.

Jane Johnston, mother and grand-mother, lives with her beloved husbandin the forest, by the sea, on the WestCoast of Canada. Her background is inmidwifery, Nursing and ClinicalCounselling, with an emphasis in DepthPsychology. She can be reached atsacredmandalas@gmail.com

Moon ChildBy Laurie Corzett

Created from the Milky Way shining into Mother Moon,Reflections from that ancient light emerging from her womb.A sad guitar, a raging sax, emoting through the seaOf stories sung through ages all, what was through what will be --Were you the Lady of that lake, were you the piper's reed?Were you the luscious, sacred fruit fulfilling every need?Yes, you the child dancing in the fullness of the nightTo ring the rune and cast the spell to make the darkness bright.Of goddess born to keep us safe and sing our lullabiesTill we emerge as sparkling stars to light the dreaming skies.

ABOUT the COVER ART -- Cont’d from page 1 EDITORIAL cont’d from page 1

But the insights of depth psy-chology have little traction if they onlyremain at the level of theory. For heal-ing transformations to take place,insight must be lived out and tested inthe crucible of experience. That maybe one reason why William Blake pro-claimed that “Eternity is in love withthe productions of time.”

Depth Insights provides a forumfor explorers in depth psychology, aplace to compare notes, to sharedreams and visions, to give voice tounusual experiences, and in so manyways to contribute to the formation ofa new basis for human choices. Withthe benefit of the creative uncon-scious, we may find that old and newideas, images and impulses, can mix,fuse and flow together into new formsof life. Increasingly, as more of us suc-ceed in giving voice to our experiencesof the numinous and the mundane, inone-and-the-same-breath, a re-sacral-ization of the world inches closer torealization.

I look upon the offerings in thisissue of Depth Insights as an array ofnutrients for mind, body and soul, tobe enjoyed like Spanish tapas, if youwill—in the form of words and imagesborn out of individual experience.Precious few publishing venues todaybring to the surface so many variedperceptions from the depths, and insuch generative ways. In this respectalone, Depth Insights stands out like abeacon in the modern storm of paperand pixels.

In publishing, the selectionprocess is always agonizing, since allcontributions are valued, whetherchosen for publication or not. Thus,sincere thanks must go to all contribu-tors for their efforts, and to all mem-bers of the Reading and SelectionCommittee as well, for their unsunglabors in the background. This e-zinewould not be possible without them—contributors and reader/evaluatorsalike.

Special thanks to RebeccaPottenger, who has shouldered a largepart of the editorial for the past twoyears, and honors to Bonnie Bright,both for her conceiving Depth Insightsand for her unceasing labors on itsbehalf ever since.

And so, valued readers: Read on!Enjoy!

~Paco Mitchell

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013 <Back to TOC

38

Depth Insights, Issue 4, Spring 2013

"At times I feel as if I amspread out over the landscape

and inside things, and ammyself living in every tree, in the

plashing of the waves, in theclouds and the animals that comeand go, in the procession of theseasons.There is nothing…with

which I am not linked."

~ C. G. Jung, Memories, Dreams, Reflections (p. 225)