Symbol Watcher

If your curiosity has been peaked by my recent entries concerning synchronicity, then I recommend At the Heart of Matter Synchronicity and Jung’s Spiritual Testament. 

The book, by Zurich-trained Jungian analyst J. Gary Sparks, is an illuminating examination of the meaningful relationship that exists between our spiritual and physical realities.

“At the Heart of Matter” has been out for two years, but I just read it and I’m glad I did. For those of you, like me, who’ve found Jung’s writings on synchronicity difficult to understand at certain points (the comparison of astrological signs in married couples for instance!), you’re really going to appreciate Sparks’ clarity.

In plain language, Sparks puts the germination of Jung’s synchronicity theory within the context of Jung’s time. Synchronicity, at its core, involves the unprompted appearance of internal healing images in the outer world. At the same time Jung was developing his theory – synchronistically enough — the physics community was making revolutionary discoveries in its understanding of the way energy moves at the subatomic level. Namely, while atoms move in predictable ways, the motion of a single electron within an atom is unpredictable. These findings helped form the basis of quantum physics.

“The discovery of a new kind of motion in quantum mechanics concerning the nature of physical reality is exactly paralleled by Jung’s research into the spontaneous nature of the healing process which occurs along the psychological journey,” writes Sparks. “Both disciplines identified a new kind of motion undetermined by causality.”

Sparks uses the relationship between Jung and Nobel-prize winning physicist Wolfgang Pauli, along with examples from his own therapeutic practice, to show that spirit and matter intermingle — and the purpose of that intermingling is so we will turn our focus toward living our true selves in this material world.

“It is not true that we are cut off from meaning and purpose in what appears to be a secular age. “There is an intelligence beside our waking and rational capacities which still speaks, but this intelligence has changed its point of entry into our lives,” says Sparks. “For more and more people, the spirit no longer comes down from above. It emerges up from matter and is there for those who are willing to accept the earth’s complications and see the spirit in the storms body and matter throw at us.”

– Writeye

You can learn more about J. Gary Sparks by clicking on ”Symbolism and Psychology Meet” in my Links section at right.

September 30th, 2009 | Tags: at the heart of matter book, J. Gary Sparks, Jung and Pauli, spirit and matter, synchronicity | Category: Books, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Comments (1)

In my last entry, I wrote that “Jung and Tarot” author Sallie Nichols stresses the importance of trying to discover the meaning, not the magic, behind the synchronistic events we experience.  Nichols suggests we ask ourselves a couple basic questions: “What in me needed this happening?” and “What lack (or potential) in me does this represent?”

That seems like sound advice to me. I believe everything in nature occurs for a reason. Our failure to understand the reason is simply because our intellect or wisdom hasn’t yet grown to the challenge.

Jung said a synchronistic event happens because an archetypal power has been activated within a person and that person is trying to become conscious of it.  I’ve been thinking about all of this as I’ve been trying to absorb what my recent little slice of synchronicity is trying to tell me.

Roses are a symbol of the Self in Jungian psychology and of the heart more generally. Red roses convey passion and romantic love. They can also stand for the blood of sacrifice (as in the thorny blood-red rose that symbolizes Christ’s suffering as an expression of God’s love). 

In my dream, I condensed my roses from six to four, a number of wholeness and earthly stability that I have discussed in other entries.  The roses themselves also stand for the Self, so the symbolism of potential wholeness seems to be doubly emphasized in my dream. The fact that the roses are “a deep blood red, like menstrual blood” makes me feel the dream is trying to tell me that passionate life is born out of pain and sacrifice (like childbirth and parenting). Taking the action necessary in my life to achieve wholeness comes at a price. I need to accept this as part of the work and not become resentful or bitter about it. After all, I’m the one who volunteered for the charity at the beginning of my dream. The choice to do the work is my own.

I think the dream might be showing me that if I am willing to embrace this truth, a transformation will take place within me. This is why my roses become trimmed in silver. Silver is the color of the moon, the feminine principle, just as gold is the color of the sun and the masculine. Because of our power to carry developing life within us, the cycle of birth, life and death is the special territory of the feminine. Creating new life requires sacrifice. Nature’s goal is balance. Every birth will be exchanged for a death of some kind, somewhere. If I accept this fact, then at least I will be closer to realizing the feminine half of my wholeness.

So given the messages I feel my dream is trying to send me, I believe the archetype of wholeness was activated by my synchronistic experience. But why did my dream roses present themselves to me on the physical plane as a journal? Why weren’t they trimmed in silver like they were at the end of my dream?

I’m not sure. My journal is where I do my work. It’s where I write down my dreams, and talk about my struggle to make sense of my internal and external life. My passion is the work I do in my journal — and my attempt, through this blog, to have a dialogue with other people who are doing their own work.  

I think the roses on my journal cover weren’t silver because I’m not there yet. I haven’t earned the feminine silver because I haven’t demonstrated my willingness to accept that sacrificing in the name of love and desire is what’s required for a new life, closer to my Self.

– Writeye 

September 2nd, 2009 | Tags: dream symbol that became synchronicity, feminine symbolism, four symbolism, gold symbolism, meaning of synchronistic events, red rose symbolism, rose symbolism, Self symbolism, silver symbolism, synchronicity as archetype activation | Category: Dreams, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment

My red and silver roses journal

On July 3 I had this dream: I have come into an office during off hours to help out. There are six roses. I was supposed to take photos of each or all of them for the not-for-profit I was working at or volunteering for (this part is unclear). The roses are a deep, blood red, like menstrual blood. Two of the six roses were wilted. I had waited too long. I threw them off to my right. I held the remaining four in my hand. One of the four was starting to wilt so I knew I had to take the picture soon. I couldn’t wait any longer. As I again look down at the four roses bunched in my hand, I see that the tips of some of their petals are now silver and none of them are wilted. I don’t understand why this has happened.

So, I had an unconscious image (the blood red roses) come into my consciousness through my dream. About two weeks later that image presented itself in physical reality.

I was shopping and remembered I needed a new dream journal because my last one was full. Usually I buy my journals in a bookstore, but I was in a discount store that has a small stationery section, so I decided to take a look. I was struck to find a journal embossed with roses, in the same blood red color as the roses in my dream. It was the only journal like it on the shelves and I did feel that I was somehow meant to find it and buy it. To pay homage to the transformation my dream roses underwent, I outlined some of the flowers in silver. 

I don’t recall ever before having a dream symbol present itself in my physical world like that. Or maybe it has and I’ve been too unaware to notice. 

Nichols says of Rodin's work, "It seemed to me that the hand, as represented here, made wondrously real the androgynous qualities of the Creator. It expressed the masculine strength and support of the father combined with the womblike shelter and tenderness of the mother."

Author Sallie Nichols, in her book, Jung and Tarot  An Archetypal Journey, writes about searching for a print of Rodin’s sculpture Hand of God that she could purchase. (This was before the days of computer downloads.) She searched high and low for a copy but she wasn’t having any luck. Then one day while she was sitting in a friend’s house she pulled a magazine from the bottom shelf of a table. The magazine fell open to a photograph of the sculpture.  To make matters more incredible, the magazine was 12 years old and out of print.

Nichols said she felt the event, “. . . must hold a special message for me.” Nichols reminds us that we would be wise not to get caught up in the magic of synchronicity and work on figuring out why such a thing would happen to us. “. . . I saw that I, too, had allowed myself to become so enthralled by their magic that I had neglected to use these synchronicities as a bridge to self-understanding. It seemed more practical, then, to . . . turn this energy toward exploring the possible meaning of these events for me.”

I feel the same way about my red roses. I’ll write some more about that tomorrow.

– Writeye

August 27th, 2009 | Tags: dream symbol that became synchronicity, meaning of synchronistic events, Rodin's Hand of God | Category: Art, Books, Dreams, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment

I’m reading Jung’s work, Synchronicity An Acausal Connecting Principal. In it, Jung defines the concept of synchronicity, provides examples of the phenomenon and gives some possible explanations as to how and why synchronicity occurs.

I’m not through with the book yet, but I already feel I’m going to need a second reading if I hope to even begin to grasp Jung’s examples of experiments regarding causality. 

While some of his explanations are over my head at the moment, his definition of synchronicity is very clear. “.  .  . there seems to be an a priori, causally inexplicable knowledge of a situation which at the time is unknowable. Synchronicity therefore consists of two factors: a) An unconscious image comes into consciousness either directly (i.e., literally) or indirectly (symbolized or suggested) in the form of a dream, idea or premonition. b) An objective situation coincides with this content. The one is as puzzling as the other. How does the unconscious image arise, and how the coincidence?” (italics Jung)

Jung tells a beautiful story involving one of his patients that exemplifies his definition of synchronicity. “A young woman I was treating had, at a critical moment, a dream in which she was given a golden scarab. While she was telling me this dream I sat with my back to the closed window. Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me, like a gently tapping. I turned around and saw a flying insect knocking against the window-pane from outside. I opened the window and caught the creature in the air as it flew in. It was the nearest analogy to a golden scarab that one finds in our latitudes, a scarabaeid beetle, the common rose-chafer (Cetonia aurata), which contrary to its usual habits had evidently felt an urge to get into a dark room at this particular moment. I must admit that nothing like it ever happened to me before or since, and that the dream of the patient has remained unique in my experience.” (italics Jung)

If my memory serves me, Jung told this story in another one of his works. In that account, I believe he says that he hands the beetle to the woman and says something like, “Madame, here is your scarab.” The event struck the woman so deeply that whatever defenses she had built up that were blocking the progress of her therapy were torn down at that moment.  It’s no wonder. A golden scarab has very positive symbolic associations. The dung beetle, as it is commonly called, moves it’s dung balls from west to east. Although this is opposite of the sun’s direction, the scarab still became associated with the sun and so came to symbolize renewal and resurrection. Combine that imagery with the fact that the woman’s dream beetle was gold and we can see she was graced with an image of great hope for her psychological future.

Have any of you ever experienced synchronicity in your life? If so, please share the event with us. I’m very interested in this phenomenon and how often it occurs. I believe I experienced a synchronicity about six weeks ago. At the time, I was a bit amazed by it. But I decided I was making too much of it and I told myself it was just a coincidence.

I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. I’d like to know what you think — and please share any experiences you’ve had with us!

– Writeye

August 26th, 2009 | Tags: Jung's definition of synchronicity, meaning of synchronicity, scarab beetle symbolism | Category: Books, Dreams, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Comments (3)

A river is an apt symbol for the passage of an individual lifetime. Its current flows ever ahead, no matter how narrow the channel or rocky the riverbed. A dam or debris may work temporarily to stop the flow, but the river will always find another way to press forward.

This past weekend I attended my high school reunion. It felt really good to see so many old friends and acquaintances. Sometimes I think my life is nothing more than a continuous series of transitions without a discernable purpose, but reconnecting with so many people from my past has given me a sense of continuity that I haven’t felt in a long time.

It’s been so many years since we stood together on the same point along life’s timeline. And then, off we went — just like a bunch of Tarot fools.  The roads we’ve walked have taken us in so many different directions: never married, married to a high school sweetheart, divorced three times, no children, grown children, toddler children, 10 grandchildren, police officer, banker, business owner, photographer, live 3 minutes away, live 3,000 miles away.

Even with all our diversions, the reunion allowed us to bring our lives to the same point once again, so many years later. We filled each other with wide-eyed hellos, long hugs and happy, dancing feet.

We’re middle-aged now. For most of us, there’s less lifetime ahead than behind. Gravity’s rightful work of pressing us back down into the darkness of nature is more evident in some of us than others, but we’re all feeling time’s march to some degree.

The miracle of last Saturday night is that we looked at each other and recognized the youthful, timeless spirit that still resides inside, even though our aging bodies sometimes hide it from view.

We can still see the light of possibility in each other. We know it’s there because we’ve seen it before. Our memories of each other are connected to a time when we were brand new and the world was waiting for us to take a taste.

My reunion reminded me that there’s the time our bodies keep and there’s the timelessness our souls keep. Our physical forms must follow the finite timeline of birth to death, but our spirits are unfettered and ageless. Reconciling this paradox — that the boundless would be contained within the bound — is one of the challenges of the second half of life I suppose. 

– Writeye

August 18th, 2009 | Tags: river symbol for time, time symbolism | Category: Current Events, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment