December 10th, 2010
Jungian theory vs practice
As a preliminary remark I should say that I have undergone Jungian analysis and found it profoundly helpful. Having said that I find the reasoning behind it suspicious at best and some of actually makes me mad. Some systems are really meant to be experiential and not theoretical. That might be mostly because while the system is efficacious, the logical underpinning has the feel of something hastily devised to answer nay-sayers. Much, in fact, like Luhrmann’s subjects were prone to do.
I am reading Alchemy by Marie-Louise von Franz. It’s a very Jungian book: packed with symbolism, full of dubious reasoning, sprinkled with the “in-crowd” assurances of perceptive superiority and extraordinarily fertile ground for self understanding. In that it’s rather like any religious text.
[Ouch. I can feel my old analyst calmly staring at me with those eyes.]
You judge:
As you know, there was a famous quarrel between Max Planck and Einstein, in which Einstein claimed that, on paper, the human mind was capable of inventing mathematical models of reality. In this he generalized his own experience because that is what he did. Einstein conceived his theories more or less completely on paper, and experimental developments in physics proved that his models explained phenomena very well. So Einstein says that the fact that a model constructed by the human mind in an introverted situation fits with the outer facts is just a miracle and must be taken as such. Planck does not agree, but thinks that we conceive a model which we check by experiment, after which we revise our model, so that there is a kind dialectic friction between experiment and model by which we slowly arrive at an explanatory fact compounded of the two. Plato-Aristotle in a new form! But both have forgotten something—the unconscious. We know something more than those two men, namely that when Einstein makes a new model of realty he is helped by his unconscious, without which he would not have arrived at his theories.
But what role does the unconscious play? The unconscious seems to deliver models which can be arrived at directly from within without looking at outer facts, and which afterwords seem to fit outer reality. Is that a miracle or not? There are two possible explanations: either the unconscious knows about other realities or what we call the unconscious is a part of the same thing as outer reality, for we do not know how the unconscious is linked with matter. If a wonderful idea as to how to explain gravitation comes up from within me, can I say that it is the nonmaterial unconscious giving me a wonderful idea about material reality, or should I say that the unconscious gives me such a marvelous idea about outer reality because it is linked with matter, it is a phenomenon of matter and matter knows matter?
There we are at our wits end as to how to proceed, and have to leave the question open and say that the great X is that we do not know how to proceed. We can make two hypotheses. Dr. Jung is inclined to think—though he has never formulated the thought, or only hypothetically, because we cannot do more, we can only speculate or make a hypothesis—that probably the unconscious has a material aspect which would be why it knows about matter, because it is matter, it is matter which knows itself, as it were. If this were so, then there would be a dim or vague phenomenon of consciousness even in inorganic matter.
Gack.
So many assumptions. Did you read that post “being time“? In that I talk about a completely different potential explanatory rubric which bases reality not on matter but on time. Of course Jung and von Franz are Westerners and so naturally assume that the thing that has to be the most real, that which is fundamental to any process must be matter or related to matter in some way. Not that I necessarily disagree but it is an assumption and one which constrains the choices von Franz sees to explain the power of the apparently non-corporeal unconscious to effect the conscious and thereby reality. Sort of a re-deal of Descartes’ cards. But enough of that.
What of this idea that the unconscious has “a material aspect.” I don’t actually disagree with that since the unconscious, what ever it actually is or does, is certainly a function of the body-brain just as consciousness is. But look at where she goes with it! The idea that because the unconscious is somehow related to matter must mean that matter itself has a “vague phenomenon of consciousness” is just outlandish and most deeply mystical and religious in assumption. The thing that underlies this is the idea that matter is somehow particulate. It assumes a kind of alchemical reality where there is a solid particulate reality which is also the site of some kind of mind or soul—that these two exist and are intertwined. And I’m sorry but you can’t assume alchemical reality to prove alchemical reality and call it a real argument.
What if, for example, that it is the organization of matter, and not atoms that produce the thing we experience as the unconscious (or the conscious)? Take the wiring in my home. I have alternating current running through the walls because of the organization of the system. If I were to pull out the wires and heap them on the kitchen floor, I’d have wires but no A/C. I don’t think you could fairly say that the heap of wires had “a vague phenomenon of” alternating current within it. If I cut the main line coming into the house and leave the wires in the wall I still have wires but no A/C. It’s a matter of systematic organization and connection, not of the wire itself, although, granted, if I replaced my wiring with tubes of milk I also wouldn’t have A/C, so the nature of the wires is important to the process.
Anyway, my mini rant done, I can go back to the book for what it was really intended, as a primer on alchemy as a psychological practice. It’s sort of like Zen or witchcraft in that way. These things are for practice, for the experience of them, for the narrative mind to construct (or deconstruct) meaningful experience so that we can feel. Just feel. Really it would be better if the practice of rationalization was just left aside as not apropos to the project.
November 23rd, 2010
mental chaos and intellectual growth
The last few days have been rather odd mentally. Partly it’s the cold. This nasty little cold snap has me holed up inside struggling to stay warm. When I took the dog out this morning I found myself grumbling internally – Calgary, this is just like frakking Calgary, sunny and frakking cold. So I went back in, divested myself of the gloves, scarves, extra socks, extra sweater - don’t like this, don’t like – made lemon tea and put on my slippers to keep my feet from getting so cold; I resolved to stay inside until this passes over on Friday. (But coffee, my stomach whinges.)
So you see I’ve been a bit techy of late. You understand that this mood plays its part because intellectually I feel like when I came back in with the dog, into the more-or-less-warm, that I found the house littered with a stunning array of bones. Now you realize this is a metaphor, but it really did feel like that. The thing is that I can’t tell how many critters (ideas/theories/bits of understanding) are scattered in my*house* and so the process of sorting is taking time.
Here are some *critters* that I think are almost certainly disarticulated across the *house*.
I’m reading Carl Jung’s book Psychology and Alchemy. I haven’t read it in over two (maybe three?) decades so it is as if I am reading it again for the first time. I can feel myself remembering Oh yes, I remember his obsession about how others might disrespect his insights and bleh, the Christian thing to dive under – again, but I think I totally missed the implications of his assumptions about the reality of a god-force and how the god-within will probably relate to the god-without. This is odd, since it is the fundamental similarity between Jung’s theories and Western esoteric practices like alchemy. I suppose this lack of comprehension is understandable in one so young reading a book like this and what’s true is that reading this book of his is rather like reading an alchemical treatise. I have to keep sorting, sifting out the above-below assumptions endemic to this kind of thought and re-articulating them in some more coherent pattern and I probably didn’t have the mental wherewithal or ancillary knowledge to do that when I first read it. Still, I must have had some glimmer because I’ve never really trusted the idea of a collective unconscious and archetypes, regardless of how useful they can be as concepts, because I cannot locate them. I mean, where does Jung think these *things* rest and how do they come to be in each mind? Archetypes, in particular, remind me too much of Platonic Ideals and that is a bad thing.
I’m also reading Harlan Lane’s When the Mind Hears, which is a history of the struggles of the Deaf to survive the good intentions of the hearing world. Not that Lane really sees the good intentions. He’s angry in much the same ways as the AIM boys were/are angry at the non-Indian world. Minority community suffers and one of the consequences of that is rage. It’s a superb book in that it is the result of devoted and first-class scholarship and it most definitely provides a window into at least this one aspect of the embattled Deaf world (the one you will experience as a hearing person – if you are one – is rage and its behavioural script – exclusion – if you spend any time in the Deaf world). In Jung’s terms, the hearing world is the projection site of the Deaf shadow.
Henry Real Bird’s Horse Tracks is another book that is *falling apart* under the strain of multiple connections. I have to say this book is having a profound impact on my thinking about both poetry and philosophy. I’ve rarely met a book that is so exactly right for the moment that I can feel its working so clearly. I do think that this poetry is the key to the *bones* littering my house. It’s like a chemical that dissolves muscle and ligament to leave the pristine bones ready for re-articulation.
I’m also reading moon in a dewdrop, writing of zen master dōgen and Each Moment Is the Universe zen and the way of being time. I have to read these books like I read Real Bird. Slowly. The thought system is so fundamentally different from my own that to have any hope of absorbing such ideas I must approach them delicately, like I would the nest of a spring robin. Here’s an example from dewdrop:
As usual
cherry blossoms bloom
in my native place,
their color unchanged—
spring.
This poem, called “Inconceivable Mind of Nirvāna,” takes up the theme of cherry blossoms, which in Japanese poetry typically symbolize the world’s transiency. But Dōgen, contrary to our expectations, suggests that something about the cherry blossoms goes beyond change.
In contrast with birth and death, which constantly appear and disappear, the tranquility of nirvana is timeless. Yet according to Mahāyāna Buddhist teaching, nirvāna is experienced only in birth and death. Thus timelessness is experienced in momentariness.
I’ve been working through this passage for over a week now.
There are some ways in which zen is like Real Bird’s underlying philosophy and so I feel a kinship, but there are fundamental differences that disrupt that. I suppose what is happening is that my mind is rebelling and trying to gather the pieces in a way that feels coherent. I’m trying, in other words, to make meaningful a disparate group of *bones* and perhaps this isn’t the best plan. I expect I’ll go ahead with it though.
I’m also reading about ASL poetics and a novel about deaf people and being Deaf, then there’s Mitchell’s Iconology and Hitchcock’s Remarks on Alchemy and this odd little study (from 1786) called A Discourse on the Worship of Priapus. Maybe I should put it all down and go get a Harlequin romance. Or better yet go see Harry Potter. (I am really, really looking forward to that.) So I recognize my *bone* filled *house* is my own fault but at least it’s interesting. I do expect the current chaos to resolve eventually and out of it, probably, will come some intellectual understanding of how the parts fit, and if not that, at least some better understanding of the parts themselves.
September 21st, 2009
Carl Jung’s The Red Book
The New York Times has an article about the publication of Carl Jung’s Red Book. (My son sent me the link this morning.) It’s 10 pages of goodness and is essentially both a tracing of the rather tortuous route to publication and an examplar of the book and its ways in action.
It’s an expensive book — on Amazon its nearly $120. Still, here’s a look at a couple of the pages.


It’s a contemporary illuminated manuscript. I mean who could not buy that.
There are more pictures available on the Times site.

