Symbol Watcher

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

Wikipedia says firefly light doesn't emit heat. It's the glow that attracts other fireflies for mating. Some large firefly groups demonstrate what is called biological synchronization -- a phenomenon where all the fireflies blink their lights in unison.

Earlier this summer I had the following dream: I am leaving a government assembly that was open to the public. I am outside on the sidewalk. It’s nighttime. A bus is parked right out in front on the curb. Another woman, in her early 20s, is with me now. She is blonde too, but her hair is long and straight, just as I used to wear it at her age. I am torn about whether or not to take the bus, but it is cold outside. I don’t want to walk home in the cold, so I start to walk toward the bus. But for some reason, I decide not to get on. Now I’m sitting on the curb, putting on my tennis shoes. These are the same shoes I wear at the gym in conscious life.

I’ve decided to walk home. I feel the young woman is still with me, although I don’t see her. She walks slightly behind me. As we’re walking down the sidewalk. I’m telling her, “See, it’s not really cold. It’s 60 degrees out. If we hadn’t walked we wouldn’t have seen (or would have missed?) the beautiful fireflies.”  All around us are these beautiful golden yellow fireflies. They seem magical. Unlike “real” fireflies, their glow is constant and throughout their whole bodies. Every part of them glows, even their wings. 

The sort of fantastic, magical beauty of the fireflies touched me. I guess they have that numinous quality Jung often wrote about.  I understand the dream is commenting on my leaving/not following the authoritative, collective lifestyle (as symbolized by the public government assembly and the bus with its predetermined route and mass of passengers). I put on my workout shoes, I think, as a play on words. I’m exercising my right to go my own way, to figure out my own path home (my “home” being my true self).  

The young woman who walks with me is a part of me. She’s the part of me I have to convince that going home on my own two feet is a good choice. When I was her age, I was focused on fitting in to society, being accepted as part of the group, so it makes sense that she represents my reservations about travelling on my own. When my dream ego is showing her it’s okay to go on foot because it’s actually warmer (kinder, more feeling) than I expected, I’m actually telling that skeptical part of myself.

And that’s pretty much where my understanding of the dream ends. Why it’s 60 degrees out, I don’t know. It’s certainly not an overabundance of warmth, but it’s more than enough to walk home without freezing to death. Six represents union and balance, as in the hexagram of two intersecting triangles. A cube is six sided, so the number also stands for stability. If anyone has any thoughts on that, please chime in.      

I don’t understand what the dream is trying to show me about myself through the lightening bugs. My only association with lightening bugs is that I loved to chase and catch them when I was a child and I still love watching them even today. The day ends and out comes these little flickering beacons. Nature gives us a source of light even when things turn dark. As I type the last sentence, I wonder if maybe that isn’t the fact the dream is trying to communicate. But is it some light of knowing within me? Is it the light of help and love I might (hopefully) receive from others along my journey? Maybe it’s both. I don’t know.

If anyone has any thoughts, I’d appreciate it if you’d leave them here. Thank you.

– Writeye

July 21st, 2009 | Tags: lightening bug symbolism, six symbolism | Category: Dreams, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Comments (3)

Jung said a house can also stand for the dreamer's body and can provide clues to the existence of physical illness the dreamer might not even know exists.

Most of us have had dreams where we’re exploring the inside of an unfamiliar house, or we’re discovering new rooms in a house we thought we knew well. It’s easy to understand why houses play such a prominent role in our unconscious. Houses are the center of our existence. They are both our private spaces and our social hubs. They are the first dwellings around which human civilization was built.

A couple nights ago, I dreamt I was considering moving into a large old home where I would have my own large room, but the kitchen and bath were communal; I would share them with the other tenants in the house. I’m a little concerned about how noisy the other tenants will be and I feel uncomfortable or uneasy about not having everything I need in my room, but I like the house and the room I would have and I decide I want to live there. 

Based on the many house dreams I’ve had, I think it’s safe to say that when we’re dreaming about a dwelling, we’re often being shown where we’re “at” or where we’re trying to get to – in our external world and/or in our internal emotional and psychological world.

In my case, the dream is showing me a direction I could take my life. Moving will provide me with the few vital things I know I need, but the new place will mean my introverted nature will have to make some adjustments.

First, I’ll be able to create and share nourishing experiences with others (as symbolized by the communal kitchen).

Second, I’ll be able to live in a place where everyone tries to remember our similarities and respect our mutual human condition. I think this is what the communal bathroom symbolizes for me. As the children’s book reminds us, “Everyone Poops.” We all need to cleanse ourselves because we all get dirty. And each of us has an unpleasant side — attitudes and beliefs we need to get rid of because they create distance between our true selves and other people. Sharing this bathroom experience, if you will, with my fellow tenants tells me I need to be empathetic and respectful of other people as they work through their private business. It also tells me I want the same consideration in return.

Third, even though I’ll be living in a much more connected way, I’ll still be able to have the quiet, reflective, recharge time my introverted nature requires (as symbolized by having my own room).   

When we’re analyzing our house dreams, it is often helpful to ask ourselves: What is the condition of the house? Is its condition affected by outside elements? If so, how? What rooms are being emphasized in the dream? What are our personal associations with those rooms? In other words, what does a bedroom bathroom, kitchen, garage, library, etc. mean to you? 

I could paraphrase the possible symbolic associations we should consider when trying to interpret a house dream, but Jungian analyst M. Ester Harding gives a great rundown in her book, The I And The Not I. Harding’s description is too lengthy for this blog, but here are several key excerpts:  

“A house, for instance, as it appears in dreams, might be taken to represent shelter or containment, and with this meaning can appear in many forms, corresponding to the many attempts man has made to adapt to external conditions. So his shelter may be a den, a cave, a primitive hut, a modern house, or even a palace. In its negative aspect house can represent prison and confinement. Or the house of the dream may represent the dreamer’s psyche. In this case, the living rooms correspond to the conscious part of the psyche, while the cellar and attic contain contents that have fallen into the personal unconscious.  . . .

“The variations on the theme of the house are endless. For instance, instead of being a personal abode, the house may be a collective building, perhaps a theater. This is the place where the typical stories of man’s life are shown, that is, the mythologems (sic) are presented to consciousness.  . . .

“But this does not cover every possible meaning of ‘house.’ For the house may be church or temple, namely, the ‘house of God,’ when, as in the theme of parent and child, the individual is led over to an attitude that transcends the personally oriented one.”

– Writeye 

June 24th, 2009 | Tags: bathroom symbolism, house symbolism, kitchen symbolism | Category: Dreams, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment

In alchemical texts, the green lion eating the sunflower conveys the experience of being frustrated because our wild desires (the green lion) are overtaking our conscious attitude (the sun/sunflower). Most of us know this experience as a depression.

Last night I went to see the Broadway hit “Wicked.” As many of you already know, the musical is based on Gregory Maguire’s revisionist take on L. Frank Baum’s classic, ”The Wonderful Wizard of Oz.” So green plays prominently in the production. There are costumes in all shades of green. There are trips to the Emerald City, a place some people have interpreted as standing for American capitalism and the move away from gold to paper money. And of course there’s Elphaba, the “Wicked” witch herself.

Elphaba was born with green skin, an anatomical fact which instantly ostracizes her from her parents and most everyone she meets. After all, we like our plants and our money green, but not our people. Historian Jack Tressider reminds us, “Satan himself is sometimes represented as green. Perhaps this stems from the fact that green is not the skin-colour of healthy normality.”

I haven’t been able to find out why Satan is sometimes pictured in green. So, if you know the origins, please post. More often than not, green has positive symbolic associations — renewal, fertility, hope, and most recently, ecology. Green is even a sacred color in Islam, standing for the Prophet and divine providence. 

But green is also the color of envy and jealousy. Perhaps these associations — given his jealousy of Christ — are the reasons why Satan is portrayed in green. I don’t know.

As for Elphaba, I’ve read some hypotheses that her green skin symbolizes the jealousy she feels toward her wheelchair-bound sister because her sister was her parents’ favorite. I disagree. Elphaba was born with green skin — before she ever had a chance to develop any envy or jealousy toward anyone. She even used her magical powers to cure her sister’s paralysis. 

I’m wondering if Elphaba’s green skin isn’t more of a harbinger of her fate, a sign that no matter what her actual intentions or actions, she was destined to be labeled “wicked,” a sister of the green-skinned devil himself.

Are there any “Wicked” fans out there? What do you think is the symbolic meaning of Elphaba’s green skin?

– Writeye  

June 18th, 2009 | Tags: Elphaba symbolism, green devil symbolism, green symbolism | Category: Art, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Comments (2)

Jung's ideas about the purpose of an afterlife resonate with the thinking of 4th-century philosopher Zhaungzi: life is limited but the amount of things to know is unlimited. This drawing illustrates Zhuangzi's experience of dreaming he was a butterfly. When he woke up, he wondered if he was a butterfly who dreamt he was Zhuangzi or Zhuangzi who dreamt he was a butterfly. Source: Wikipedia.

Andrea and Bruce Leininger are the parents of James Leininger, a little boy who they believe was a WWII pilot in a previous life. The Leiningers have chronicled their family’s experience with the paranormal in two Good Morning America interviews (most recently on Monday) and in the book Soul Survivor: The Reincarnation of a World War II Fighter Pilot.    

According to the Leiningers, just a couple weeks after son James turned two, he began having nightmares about a plane crash. His visions were filled with such specific details about the incident — including the type of aircraft and damage sustained – that the Leiningers began researching the details to see if James’ dream visions could have been someone else’s reality. The Leiningers are convinced their son’s nightmares were the experiences of James M. Huston, Jr., a 21-year-old fighter pilot who was killed when his plane was shot down by the Japanese as he flew over Iwo Jima on March 3, 1945. 

I’m not at all skeptical about the validity of the Leiningers experience, or the conclusion of reincarnation they drew from it. I’m sure many of us who have taken care of very young children have had experiences where those children mention the names of dead people they couldn’t know anything about, or tell us the name or sex of children yet to be born or even conceived.  

One day when I was playing with my nieces, two-year-old Meghan suddenly turned to an open bedroom door, pointed, and yelled “Grandma.” I asked her if she saw grandma and she said yes, even though there wasn’t anyone standing there. When I asked which grandma she saw, she couldn’t tell me. One of them, my mother, has been dead for 30 years. Still, I could tell Meghan really “saw” one of her grandmas in that doorway.

I believe very young children possess a unique ability to peer over to the other side. After all, it was not long ago that they themselves were “not of this world.” Their consciousness hasn’t been narrowed yet by ego concerns and the demands of this earthly life.  Departed souls know small children are a doorway through which they can reconnect with this plane of existence and, in James Huston’s case, take care of unfinished business.

I’ve always thought there might be some sort of life after death, including reincarnation. Between my own experiences and others I’ve heard about, I can’t rule out the possibility of an afterlife just because it hasn’t been scientifically proven.

Two things struck me about the Leininger’s story. First, when James started talking to a therapist who believed in reincarnation, the nightmares became much less frequent. Second, James’ father had an intuitive sense that, “[Huston] came back because he wasn’t finished with something.”

I think we’d be wise to at least entertain the idea that, because Huston died suddenly and violently, his soul could not rest until he came to grips with the trauma of his death. Huston needed some ”talk therapy,” if you will. And through James, he was able to get it.

In his autobiography, Memories, Dreams, Reflections,  Jung provides a  thought-provoking hypothesis as to why the dead communicate with the living. ”People have the idea that the dead know far more than we, for Christian doctrine teaches that in the hereafter we shall ’see face to face.’ Apparently, however, the souls of the dead ‘know’ only what they knew at the moment of death, and nothing beyond that. Hence their endeavor to penetrate into life in order to share in the knowledge of men.  .  .  .  It seems to me as if they were dependent on the living for receiving answers to their questions, that is, on those who have survived them and exist in a world of change . . .”

Jung says the dead are in a space without time and a time without space — eternity — where nothing changes. But we humans exist on a plane ruled by the passing of time and the evolution that comes with it. As such, we develop; we gain knowledge we didn’t have before — knowledge the dead lack since they are at a still point.  

Given this hypothesis, it’s possible that Huston wasn’t reincarnated in James, but called out to James for help because he could not come to grips with his sudden, traumatic end unless he gained greater understanding about that end.

However, Jung didn’t rule out the possibility of reincarnation. “I could well imagine that I might have lived in former centuries and there encountered questions I was not yet able to answer; that I had to be born again because I had not fulfilled the task that was given to me. When I die, my deeds will follow along with me — that is how I imagine it.”

Jung’s hypothesis on life after death, including reincarnation and karma, centered around a need for departed souls to fill in the gaps of the spiritual education they received on earth. It seems to me that Huston’s demands on the Leininger family to help him find answers support this. 

– Writeye

June 10th, 2009 | Tags: life after death jung, reincarnation jung, WW II fighter pilot reincarnated | Category: Books, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Comments (2)