Reference: “The Hidden Source of Self”

[Image from Down Home Essentials]

"We are not human beings having a spiritual experience. We are spiritual beings having a human experience."

~ Pierre Teilhard de Chardin

This is the full text of the subchapter of the book that one of the quotes from the post on projection comes from. It’s really great, very useful, so I’m including it here. Very well worth the read, as is anything from my favorite Jungian, the analyst Marie-Louise von Franz.



We probably project all the time, in everything we do; in other words, in addition to those other impressions which are conveyed by the senses, there are always psychosomatic influences from within, so that we have a general impression of our experiences; Gestalt psychology demonstrates this in many individual cases. Therefore we must either widen our concept of projection to such an extent that, like the East Indians, we look upon everything as projection; or we must draw a line between what we will refer to as projection and what is a relatively objective statement concerning outer objects. Jung suggested that the concept of projection be applied only where there is a serious disturbance of adaptation, that is to say, where either the person who is doing the projecting or all those in his immediate vicinity unanimously reject the statement in question. For the usual mixture of subjectivity in our image of reality, a mixture which is limitless, Jung uses the expression archaic identity, archaic because this was man’s original condition, namely one in which he saw all psychic processes in an “outside” – his good and evil thoughts as spirits, his affects as gods (Ares, Cupid), and so on. Only gradually were certain psychic processes, which were visualized before as exclusively “outside,” understood as processes within the experiencing subject himself, as for instance when the Stoic philosophers began to interpret the goddess Athena as insight, Ares as aggressive passion, Aphrodite as desire; this, so to speak, was the beginning of an “incarnation” of the gods in man.

How far such a process can go – a process, that is, of an increasing development of consciousness – is therefore not easy to foresee. We still know pitifully little about objective man, as Jung emphasized time and again. In spite of being disturbing and socially dangerous, projections also have meaning; for it is apparently only through projections that we can make ourselves conscious of certain unconscious processes. Through projections there arise, first of all, those fascinations, affects, entanglements which then force us to reflect on ourselves. There is no becoming conscious without the fires of emotion and suffering. The disturbance of adaptation which is closely linked with every projection leads, if all goes well, to reflection (if it goes badly it leads to homicide and murder.) Re-flexio, however, means that the image which has been “radiated” outward onto another object is “bent back” and returns to oneself. It is just because the symbol of the mirror has to do psychologically with the phenomenon of projection that it has, mythologically, such an enormous magical significance. In a mirror one can recognize oneself or see a projection. An old Scottish shepherd who lived a secluded life found a pocket mirror one day which a tourist had lost. He had never seen such a thing before. Time after time he looked at it, was amazed, shook his head, then took it home with him. His wife watched with increasing jealousy as, time and again, he furtively drew something out of his pocket, looked at it, smiled, put it back. When he was away one day she quickly took the mirror out of his coat pocket. Looking at it, she cried, “Aha! So this is the old witch he is running after now!”

That “constant flow of projections” – that is to say, that activity in which the subjective intrapsychic elements in our experience of the outer world does not disturb adaptation – Jung, as mentioned above, has called archaic identity, from which all genuine, true knowledge originates, for it is based on an instinctual, mystic participation with all things and all other people. “It is as if the ‘eyes of the background,’” as Jung describes it, “do the seeing in an impersonal act of perception.” These eyes see accurately. Why then do all those projections which disturb adaptation and which must be corrected through conscious insight also come from the same unconscious background? This is probably connected with what we call the dissociability of the psyche. Our entire psyche seems to consist of separate complexes which gather together into what one could call the psychic individuality, just as the Mendelian units of our hereditary factors together to form a unity.

We can clearly see in a small child, who still possesses a very labile ego-consciousness, how loosely the separate complexes live with each other in the moods which change like lightning and by means of which the youngster can switch from “loving child” to “devil” and vice versa, one moment completely affectionate, the next minute utterly engrossed in his play, one moment in deep despair, two minutes later joyful again, sucking a candy. These fluctuations decrease slowly as the conscious ego gradually builds itself up, but then the ego often experiences collisions of the individual complex-impulses within and must then learn to endure and control them. Once, when I was nine, I wanted to draw a picture of my dog whom I loved passionately, but he wouldn’t sit still. I was furious so I smacked him and shouted at him. I will never forget that dog’s innocent, offended look! I did not hit him again, but when I sat down to finish my drawing I felt clearly within me how the fury of my impatience and my love for the dog clashed painfully together. Jung conjectured once that ego consciousness first develops from collisions of the small child with the outer world and later from collisions of the growing ego with the impulses from its own inner world (as in the example of my fury with the dog). The “parliament of instincts,” as Konrad Lorenz would have called it, is not a peaceful organization within us; it is rather violent in there, and the President – the ego – often has difficulty asserting himself. From a practical point of view we can observe that whenever a complex becomes autonomous, then there always arise projections which disturb adaptation and blur the “mirror of inner truth.”

People in one’s immediate neighborhood experience our projections as emotional exaggerations. Personally, I listen almost unconsciously to the tone in which analysands speak about their marital partner, their friends and enemies, and I have discovered that I simply “switch over” whenever a certain undertone of hysterical exaggeration is heard together with the rest of the patient’s statement. Then one can no longer quite believe what is being said, but instead listens to an interesting (unconscious) self-presentation of the analysand. If one succeeds in that moment in relating such an outburst to a dream motif which pictures the statements figuratively, then there is often a good chance that the other will see that all that he has described so enthusiastically or so angrily is really in himself. The withdrawal of a projection, however, is almost always a moral shock. People with weak egos are often unable to tolerate this and resist violently. Jung once compared the ego with a person who navigates his sturdy or flimsy boat on the sea of the unconscious. He hauls fish (the contents of the unconscious) into his boat, but he cannot fill the boat (i.e., integrate unconscious contents) with more fish than the size of the boat allows; if he takes in too many the boat sinks. That is why the elucidation and withdrawal of projections is a critical matter. Schizoid and hysterical personalities can usually take only a little. With primitive people who have a weak ego, it is also advisable to leave projections unexplained. It has been my experience that then the older, more historical ways of dealing with autonomous complexes work better, namely that one refers to them as “spirits” which do not belong to the individual and thus one helps the analysand to resist such a “spirit” through some ritual or magic practice. This means that one takes literally what has been preserved as a figure of speech: “The devil has gotten into him” or that being in love is a “bewitchment.” However, any decisions about these inner moral insights will be made not by the ego and not by the analyst but by the Self. So we are in fact just as the Self sees us with its inner eyes which are always open, and all our own efforts toward self-knowledge must get to this point before any inner peace is possible.

However, the mandala (as the principle of the Self) has a strict mathematical order – like the symbol of the mirror – for, seen from a physical point of view, only those material surfaces which have no distortions, whose molecules are well-arranged, are capable of reflection. Therefore, it would appear as though the truth of one’s own being were being reflected there, in the innermost core of the soul – from there come our dreams, which show us how we really are, whereas the distorting projections come from partial complexes which have made themselves autonomous. This is why Zen masters tell their pupils, time after time, that they should free their “inner mirror” (Buddha-mind) of dust.

As long as we live, our reflection tries to penetrate into the deeper secrets of our innermost being, but what urges us to this is the Self itself, for which we search. It searches for itself in us. It seems to me that it is this secret to which a dream of Jung points, which he had after a severe illness in 1944, and which he relates in his memoirs. In this dream he is walking through a sunny, hilly landscape when he comes to a small wayside chapel. “The door was ajar, and I went in. To my surprise there was no image of the Virgin on the alter, and no crucifix either, but only a wonderful flower arrangement. But then I saw that on the floor in front of the altar, facing me, sat a yogi – in lotus posture, in deep meditation. When I looked at him more closely, I realized that he had my face. I started in profound fright, and awoke with the thought: ‘Aha, so he is the one who is meditating me. He has a dream and I am it.’ I knew that when he is awakened, I would no longer be.”

The dream, Jung continues,

is a parable: My Self retires into meditation and meditates my earthly form. To put it another way: it assumed human shape in order to enter three-dimensional existence, as if someone were putting on a diver’s suit in order to dive into the sea. When it renounces existence in the hereafter, the Self assumes a religious posture, as the chapel in the dream shows. In earthly form it can pass through the experiences of the three-dimensional world, and by greater awareness take a further step toward realization.

The figure of the yogi represents, as it were, Jung’s prenatal wholeness whose meditation “projects” the empirical reality of the ego. As a rule we see these things in reverse, we discover mandalas in the products of the unconscious and express therewith our idea of wholeness. Our basis is ego-consciousness, a field of lights centered upon the focal point of the ego. From that point we look out upon an enigmatic world of obscurity and do not know how far its shadowy forms are caused by our consciousness and how far they possess a reality of their own. The tendency of the dream, writes Jung,

is to effect a reversal of the relationship between ego-consciousness and the unconscious, and to represent the unconscious as the generator of the empirical personality. This reversal suggests that in the opinion of the “Other side,” our unconscious existence is the real one and our conscious world a kind of illusion, an apparent reality constructed for a specific purpose… Unconscious wholeness therefore seems to me the true spiritus rector of all biological and psychic events. Here is a principle which strives for total realization – which in man’s case signifies the attainment of total consciousness. Attainment of consciousness is culture in the broadest sense, and self-knowledge is therefore the heart and essence of this process. The Oriental attributes unquestionably divine significance to the Self, and according to the ancient Christian view of self-knowledge is the road to knowledge of God.

You see why I have called this paper “The Hidden Source of Self-Knowledge”; it lies within us and yet is an unfathomable secret, a complete cosmos which we have only begun to explore.

- Marie-Louise von Franz, Dreams

Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly, fluttering hither and thither, to all intents and purposes a butterfly. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.”

- Zhuangzi