Symbol Watcher

In my previous two blogs, I talked about the circle representing the whole of the universe, all that is heavenly and spiritual. I also said the square symbolizes earthbound, physical reality. Given these symbolic backdrops, it makes sense that an image which brings these two geometric shapes together in equal measure (i.e., the squaring of the circle) would be illustrating humankind’s desire to achieve balance and harmony among the opposites of existence. (For an example, see the drawing below, which accompanies last Friday’s blog.)

To help me better understand the psychic purpose behind the image, I’m turning once again to the insight Jung provides in The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious: “The squaring of the circle is one of the many archetypal motifs which form the basic patterns of our dreams and fantasies but it is distinguished by the fact that it is one of the most important of them from the functional point of view. Indeed, it could even be called the archetype of wholeness.”

The circle and the square are geometric and symbolic opposites. So when our psyches bring the two shapes together in such a way that they inhabit an equal area, we are trying to reconcile all that is seemingly at odds within us — spiritual and material, light and dark, male and female, inferior and superior functions, etc.

Jung tells us these mandalas occur when nature is trying to heal a divide. “The fact that images of this kind have under certain circumstances a considerable therapeutic effect on their authors is empirically proved and also readily understandable, in that they often represent very bold attempts to see and put together apparently irreconcilable opposites and bridge over apparently hopeless splits. Even the mere attempt in this direction usually has a healing effect, but only when it is done spontaneously.  Nothing can be expected from an artificial repetition or a deliberate imitation of such images.” (Excerpted from The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious.)  

I think the last part of Jung’s statement is particularly important. I take it to mean that we can’t use force of will to sit down and consciously think through and draw out what we’d like our “Self”-reflective mandalas to look like. Nature, as she always does, will provide the images to us when she feels we are in need and ready to receive them — either through active imagination in our waking hours or in our dreams during sleep. 

– Writeye

May 28th, 2009 | Tags: healing psychic opposites, mandala symbolism, squaring of the circle meaning | Category: Dreams, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment

After a period of internal struggle, Jung's analysand/artist drew this picture, indicating that she had reached a greater understanding of her Self. "Here the rainbow-coloured radiation of the mandala begins again for the first time, and from then on was maintained for over ten years . . .," says Jung. Notice that a square resides inside the circle. This "squaring of the circle" has its own symbolic significance. I'll talk about that in my next blog.

Today, I’ll start right off the bat with an excerpt from Jung’s work, The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious (Vol. 9): “The Sanskrit word mandala means ’circle.’ It is the Indian term for the circles drawn in religious rituals.  . . . The best and most significant mandalas are found in the sphere of Tibetan Buddhism.  . . . A mandala of this sort is known in ritual usage as a yantra, an instrument of contemplation. It is meant to aid concentration by narrowing down the psychic field of vision and restricting it to the centre. Usually the mandala contains three circles painted in black or dark blue. They are meant to shut out the outside and hold the inside together.”  

As I said in Monday’s blog, the square, with its corners and sides and stops and starts, is all about earthly life and time. In contrast, a circle has no beginning or end. It’s the shape of the planets and the sun and the moon. The circle speaks to us of heaven and spirituality, and of a wholeness that encompasses the entire universe.

The all-inclusive aspect of the circle is why the imagery found in mandalas is so complex and striking. Through mandalas we attempt to express our glimpses into what is really the unknowable and undefinable expanse and depth of being.

As Jung worked with the contents of the unconscious, he noticed how often these circular images occured in the dreams and drawings of himself and his analysands. “It is not without importance for us to appreciate the high value set upon the mandala, for it accords very well with the paramount significance of individual mandala symbols which are characterized by the same qualities of a — so to speak — ‘metaphysical’ nature.  Unless everything deceives us, they signify nothing less than a psychic centre of the personality not to be identified with the ego. I have observed these processes and their products for close on thirty years on the basis of very extensive material drawn from my own experience.”  (Excerpt from Jung’s work Psychology and Alchemy, Vol. 12.)

The consistent experience of manadalas led Jung to theorize that the circle is a symbol for the individual Self. In Jungian terminology, the Self is always capitalized because it refers to the circumference of the individual psyche. As such, it contains all that is conscious and unconscious to the individual, as well as the individual’s relationship to the greater whole of the universe.

So, Jung tells us, when manadalas erupt in our dreams and drawings it is, “. . . at such times when psychic equilibrium is disturbed or when a thought cannot be found and must be sought for, because it is not contained in holy doctrine.” (Again, from Jung’s work Psychology and Alchemy, Vol. 12.)

In Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, Jung provides a very straightforward list of elements commonly found in mandalas:

• Circular, spherical or egg-shaped formation.
• The circle is elaborated into a flower (rose, lotus) or a wheel.
• A centre expressed by a sun, star, or cross, usually with four, eight or twelve rays.
• The circles, spheres, and cruciform figures are often represented in rotation (swastika*).
• The circle is represented by a snake coiled about a centre, either ring-shaped (uroboros) or spiral (Orphic egg).
• Squaring of the circle, taking the form of a circle in a square or vice versa.     
• Castle, city and courtyard (temenos) motifs, quadratic or circular.
• Eye (pupil and iris)
• Besides the tetradic figures (and multiples of four), there are also triadic and pentadic ones, though these are much rarer.  

I highly recommend the two books I’ve referenced today — The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious and Psychology and Alchemy – if you’d like to learn more about mandalas as symbols for the Self. In each work, Jung chronicles the journey of a patient struggling through the process of individuation (i.e., “the process where a person becomes a separate, indivisible unity or whole”).  

In “Archetypes” the patient is a 55-year-old woman who uses her extensive artistic talent and active imagination techniques to draw the unconscious content that came bubbling to the surface. The drawings, interpreted by Jung, are beautiful and fascinating examples of how mandala symbolism can present itself in order to guide someone along her journey toward wholeness.

“Psychology” gives us a detailed examination of how mandala symbolism sprang up in the dreams of a young man who had an aptitude for science. Although this series lacks the visual impact of the woman’s drawings, I found it very helpful to read how Jung analyzed dream content. He brought to my attention the subtle ways in which mandalas and other symbols of wholeness can present themselves in our dreams. 

– Writeye

*Please note the swastika was originally a positive symbol of regenerative power before it was contorted by the Nazi Party.

May 22nd, 2009 | Tags: circle symbolism, individuation definition, mandala symbolism, Self Jungian definition | Category: Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment

My rendering of the wooden floor tile in my dream. Although there are many elements which speak of wholeness in this graphic, it is not a mandala. I'll explain the differences and provide Jung's characteristics for a mandala in a blog later this week.

I can recall only a handful of dreams I’ve had in which a graphic pattern was a central symbol. But I had one late last week and I’ve been trying to make sense of it for days.

The dream is very long so, for the sake of electronic brevity, here’s a shortened version:

I am in the living room of my “home” (not where I reside in conscious life). I see the dark turquoise paint has begun to peel off my living room wall. It’s rolling neatly down to the floor, revealing the white drywall underneath. I realize the paint is peeling because there’s a leak somewhere; water is dripping down the back of the wall.

Now I’ve gone up to the attic to find out what part of the ceiling is leaking. I am surprised at how large the attic is. It’s actually a very wide, long hallway. Nothing is stored in the attic, but I can see the opening to another room at the far end. I can’t see how large the room is or what’s in it.

I look down at the floor. It’s made of a beautiful, rich wood — like cedar or redwood or teak. The wood is cut into square tiles that repeat throughout the entire space. The walls are made of the same rich wood but they are cut in long planks that run on a diagonal from floor to ceiling.

I wonder why the workers who built the house went to such great pains to build the attic with such quality and detail. I look up and see an open sky light. Then I see a second one that’s open but covered with a screen. I look to my left and see that a portion of the upper part of the wall is completely open. I realize the attic has been open all this time, but I didn’t know it. I think of winter time and the attic being open to the cold and I wonder if it’s made the living areas of the house colder.

I look at the floor again. The wood is wet from the rain, but I realize it’s the kind of wood that is made to withstand the elements. I understand the leak in my living room is not coming from the attic.

Now I’m standing on the outside of my house. I look up very high above my head and see water streaming down from the roof line. The wood is not of the same high quality as the wood in my attic, so the rain has rotted it through. I know this is where the leak is coming from.

Since this is a blog and not a book, I’m going to focus on the symbolism and interpretation of the middle part of the dream: my journey through the attic. When I think of an attic, I think of a place where we store things from our past that we rarely use but that we may want to keep for sentimental or reference reasons, such as family heirlooms or old paperwork. So in dream symbolism, I associate an attic as my psyche’s repository for my individual life experiences.

At first, I couldn’t understand why there weren’t any objects there — only the wood-laden walls and floors and the sky-lit roof. Then I realized my attic being empty is a comment on me feeling that I don’t have any life experiences that are hidden from view. Either because of my own candor or the candor of others, my ups and downs are well known among the people closest to me. It’s all quite open and exposed to the outside.  

I suppose anyone who’s gone through any sort of self-induced disclosure or public prying knows what it’s like to have an empty attic. For me, discovering this open dream attic forces me to ask myself: have the harsh feelings and cold assumptions of the outside world (winter) caused me to become a bit of a hermit, to withdraw and distance myself from other people (have my experiences made the living areas of my house colder)? As I thought about this part of the dream, I teared up and became very sad because I know the answer is yes.  

So at the same time I’m beginning to realize how my open-book life has affected my relationships, the dream also points out that I have the inner strength to withstand what the outside world brings in. There’s no reason to stop. I need to keep moving along my journey. This is the comment my dream makes through the symbolism of the wooden floor tiles and walls.

My dream attic screams movement. Its proportion is that of a very wide and long hallway — a passageway to that room at the far end. The wall planks slant forward, not straight up and down or back. The wood tiles are a paradox in that their design both points to the center yet repeats out ahead of me to create the entire expanse of floor.

In Man and His Symbols, Aniela Jaffé tells us, “The square is a symbol of earthbound matter, of the body and reality.” The square relates to physical space, the four directions. In some circumstances it can also refer to the four functions of consciousness — thought, feeling, intuition and sensation. It’s a shape of balance. It’s a shape that comments on earthly existence and our relationship to it, in it. The square is the here and now of this life. 

The two lines that form an X speak to me of symbiotic movement to and from the center, to and from the four corners (the directions I take my life and the functions of consciousness I utilize to carry me in those directions).  This center point represents the balance that is possible for me to achieve within myself and therefore within this world if I can manage to bring these disparate aspects together. 

The triangles perform double duty to me. Each acts as a directional device pointing to the center. But each also seems to represent a certain element of my psyche. A triangle pointing up is a male symbol and a triangle pointing down is a female symbol. The triangle on the right says something to me about consciousness and the one on the left reminds me of what is within myself that is shadow and unconscious. So it seems the triangles are showing me that I must also strive to incorporate these aspects of myself, to bring them together, in balance, at the center.

What also struck me about these tiles is that the square and the triangle shapes are each doubled within the tile. There is a square inside a square. There are the triangles created by the two intersecting lines and then the triangles within each of those four quadrants. I’m not sure, but perhaps this is to emphasize the importance of the task I have in front of me, and/or to reassure me that I have the power (times 2 maybe?) to accomplish it. I’m not sure.

What I do know is the strength, richness and intricacy of the wood in my attic touched me and I’m grateful I was given the dream.

Please feel free to post any thoughts you have on the dream I’ve shared with you or on any dream you’ve had where a graphic element has had special meaning for you.

– Writeye  

May 19th, 2009 | Tags: attic symbolism, square symbolism, Triangle symbolism, winter symbolism, wood symbolism | Category: Dreams, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment

Martyred around 303 A.D., St. Romanus of Caesarea spoke out in favor of the church. His tongue was subsequently removed on the order of Emperor Galerius.

Baring teeth and protruding tongues have long been displays of aggression and dominance in the human and animal kingdoms.

Along with their self-protective power, teeth can also symbolize vitality because they are crucial in helping us break down and consume food. Teeth are also associated with sexual potency. Various species bite their mates during sex.

In dreams, loosing teeth or needing to clean ones teeth could point to a need for the dreamer to examine power issues in his or her life.  Perhaps the dreamer’s sexual energy is waning for some reason. The dreamer could also be loosing power in some other area of life — perhaps in some personal, non-sexual relationship, or in a work relationship. Other symbols in the dream should help narrow down the interpretation. 

If the dreamer is very domineering and perhaps even destructive in some aspect of his or her waking life, a dream of loosing teeth may show the necessity to find a more balanced outer attitude when dealing with others. Conversely, maybe the dreamer is not usually aggressive enough in conscious life and a dream of having an inadequate number of teeth is a comment on needing to take the necessary steps to ensure a nourishing and fulfilling life. 

Brushing teeth in a dream may be showing us that we need to clean up some aspect of the agressive/defensive or sexual side of our psyche.

Tongues, when extended, symbolize aggression right along with teeth. But a stuck-out tongue also communicates defiance — just ask any teenager whose ever stuck her tongue out at her brother or sister, or even her parents. Tongues are also associated with flames because both are red and moving and consuming.  Tongues are crucial to our ability to form the sounds that become the language we need to communicate. So if we have a dream in which our tongue has been cut out, what force within or without is stifling our ability to speak? If we find ourselves with a forked tongue, we may need to ask ourselves if we are communicating in a harmful, deceitful way. 

– Writeye

May 12th, 2009 | Tags: teeth symbolism, tongue symbolism | Category: Dreams, Jungian Psychology, Symbol Brief |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment

Video Link: Face Transplant Recipient Talks About Being Thankful and Forgiving

I’ve been following the story of Connie Culp with some fascination and much admiration. She is the 47-year-old woman who underwent the first total face transplant in America. She lost her face five years ago when her husband blew it away with a gun shot blast.

Connie’s story has captured me because she has lived through — on a physical level — one of the more painful psychological experiences a person can have: Connie has lost her face.

From our earliest childhood, we are taught the importance of adapting to the larger society, of fitting in.  Jung reminds us in his work, The Relations Between the Ego and the Unconscious (Volume 7), that we adjust our individuality to conform to the various segments of society with which we’re associated: our families,  employers, ethnic and cultural groups, social networks, religious affiliations, etc. “This arbitrary segment of collective psyche — often fashioned with considerable pains — I have called the persona. The term persona is really a very appropriate expression for this, for originally it meant the mask once worn by actors to indicate the role they played.  . . . Fundamentally the persona is nothing real: it is a compromise between individual and society as to what a man should appear to be.”

I am so struck by Connie and her story. Especially in Western culture, we are judged so severely for our looks. We change our dress and hair (especially women) to fit in to the particular social situation. Studies have shown we are more receptive to attractive people on first meeting than people we deem unattractive. As humans, we even have an embedded blue print for attractiveness that has to do with the symmetry of our facial features. In an interview that aired this morning (I’ve included an excerpt above), Connie tells Good Morning America’s Diane Sawyer a wonderful story of how she turned an encounter with a little girl who was frightened by her looks into a learning experience for both the child and the girl’s father.

What happens to us when our personas are stripped away? When we are cast out because we are no longer the “compromise between individual and society as to what a man should appear to be”?

Some of us are cast out because of something we did that the group finds unacceptable and some of us are cast out because we are victims of someone else’s negative projections, misunderstandings or out-and-out anger. I’ve experienced both and Connie has certainly experienced the latter in one of the most painful ways I can imagine.

Jung tells us that we still need our various personas as tools to function effectively in a collective world, but he stresses that it is unwise to identify too much with any one mask because if we lose that mask, it may be a fall from which we won’t be able to recover.

It seems to me this is a lesson Connie has learned well and is trying to teach the rest of us. Whenever we are stripped of one of our masks, it can give us the hard-earned gift of coming into closer contact with our core individuality, if we’re willing to let go of the who who is no longer.

As Connie pointed out to the little girl in the grocery store, her face is not who she is.  It seems to me that Connie’s wisdom is in her ability to let go of her old identity, to be grateful for and make the most of the  new life she has been given and forgive her husband for the pain he caused her.  

– Writeye

May 8th, 2009 | Tags: Connie Culp, face transplant recipient, persona | Category: Current Events, Jungian Psychology |  Print This Post |  Email This Post | Leave a comment