Friday, July 23, 2010
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The House of Ghostly Stories.
By Colleen Kelly
Although ghost stories are not themselves a Jungian concept, the imagination and access to the supernatural through myth and story is tenant of analytical psychology. We all have our myths. Personal myths, family myths, even cultural myths. My experiences of the supernatural are relevant to me and my family. All of us are open to beliefs of the unexplained and perhaps that is why we have all had these otherworldly experiences. These stories make sense to us in light of what we accept as truth, reality and the world of possibility.
My grandmother’s house is located in the city of Brantford, Ontario. She was a single mother of three, who left her father’s farm after he died and bought a house of her own in the 1940’s. Her husband had died many years before and she now had to support her three sons and herself. My grandmother was a musician and devoutly Roman Catholic. The house was large and served as a rooming house to men during and after the war. She filled it with heavy antique furniture and large religious pictures which graced the rooms with 12 and 14 foot ceilings. After she passed away in 1964, my parents now newly married, moved into the house and it still remains with the family to this day.
While growing up at 10 Palmerston Avenue, there were a number of curious and disturbing experiences. The house was rambling with additions connected to the original Canadian Gothic structure. It was built in the mid to later 1800’s and had 3 owners previous to 1940, when my grandmother purchased it. My earliest memory of my own experience with ghostly energy was about the age of 3 yrs. I remember telling my mom that “they were coming” one Friday evening as she was putting groceries into the trunk of our car. My mother didn’t understand, and I was not able to explain it to her, but I was frightened. As I started to fall asleep that night I saw sparkling lights and then I remember seeing miniature people all around me. There was a small police officer and a small lady and they both floated around my bed-I remember them being friendly, laughing and talking to me and I remember wanting them to go away. But they stayed until I fell asleep.
A short time after this my mother recalled her experience of sitting alone in the kitchen at the table, sipping a cup of tea. The French door into the breakfast room was closed and the back door was locked. Suddenly to her amazement, the rocking chair across the room began to slowly rock. She was stunned as she looked at the moving chair. Then she recalls the chair rocking faster, for close to a minute before slowing down and then stopping. In her telling of the story she recalls feeling terrified and was afraid to move.
The large country kitchen was definitely a hot spot of activities over the years. In the 1940’s and 50’s my grandmother hosted informal parties where musicians would play and there was much singing and dancing. It even served as the dance floor for my own sweet sixteen party years later. As a child I remember feeling “spooked” as I would do homework at the kitchen table. The room was surrounded by large sunny windows looking out into the deep back yard with 60 year old apple trees and towering maples. At night, when you looked into total blackness there was the feeling, the undeniable feeling that someone or something was out there looking back. Many a night, I would be so filled with fright that I would leave the room.
Animals were another curiosity for us at the house as well. There was plague of distemper that cursed the house for several years beginning in the 1970’s. Tiger had been inoculated as a kitten so she never came down with the deadly illness, but every other cat that came to the house died with in a short while, after arrival. After Charlie, Morris and then Sam became infected, after each arriving from the pound, my parents announced-“Sorry, no more cats”. Since Sam had been with us for several months and he had just wandered off sick and died, my brother and I were heart broken. We prayed nightly for his return from the end of November and through the month of December leading up to Christmas. The original house had a small basement cellar that was accessiable only from the outside, porch of the house. Actually, a border had rented a room in the cellar at the time my grandmother had owned the home. The cellar was a dark, scary place and I was terrified of going down into it.
On Christmas morning, we came downstairs early to open gifts. A blanket of white snow covered everything as it had been snowing all evening and the snow had drifted up on the large covered side porch. As we opened gifts, we heard what could only be described as a cat, “mewing”. We looked for Tiger, but she was asleep in the kitchen. We looked outside at the porch but there was nothing, no footprints or paw prints for that matter. Finally, as we listened we heard the sound coming from the vent to the furnace room, in the cellar. Reluctantly, my father who was in no mood to find Sam, the sick cat locked downstairs went to investigate. To his dying day, my father maintains he had nothing to do with what was to follow. My dad went outside to the porch and down into the dark cellar. He opened the door to the furnace room, where the border had slept for those years during the war. Sitting there alone, next to the furnace was a tiny white kitten. He brought the kitten up and knocked the snow off his feet, looking completely dumb-founded and slightly annoyed. He blamed my mother who flatly denied placing the kitten there. However, we were delighted as kids because it didn’t matter to us where the tiny fur-ball came from. He clearly belonged to us now and that was a most memorable Christmas. Snowball, as we called him, lived a long, long life.
In 1976 my brother had a fish tank in his bedroom above the dining room. On one evening, the family was down stairs watching television when suddenly, there was a loud crash. What followed could only be described as a torrential down pour of water into the closed off room, with glass doors. We jumped up and ran upstairs to see the tank turned upside down in the middle of the bedroom –it made no sense to us. My father was too baffled and stunned to be angry, or to question my brother who had obviously been watching the television with him. This was in spite of the thousands of dollars damage to the plaster ceiling, the furniture and the antique carpet below.
Over the years there were many, many stories related to this house, however this one had the deepest impact on me personally. In April 1978, I was 13 years old. My parents were going through many struggles in their marriage and I recall a lot of arguing going on at that time. I recall it was Easter Sunday in the afternoon and there was a loud argument in the kitchen. My mother went upstairs and slammed the door and my father lay down on the sofa in the living room. In an angry voice he announced “there would be no Easter dinner.” My brother left and I went upstairs to my room and began to cry. As I cried, I sat on my chair and I began to talk to the statue of the Virgin Mary, next to my bed. She was placed on my nightstand beside an alarm clock. The alarm clock was that kind of digital clock that would make a clicking noise every time the digits flipped to the next minute. I began to pray and I pleaded with Mary. I asked her “Mary, would things ever get better?” “Would my life ever get better?” I was very upset, but what happened next stopped my tears in an instant. As I pleaded and cried I remember hearing the clock digit turn and click and at that same moment. The painted eyes on the statue opened and looked right at me. The eyes were like a doll’s eyes. They were large and a brilliantly bright blue, with thick black eyelashes. They were alive and other-worldly and they looked at me for several seconds before closing again.
I can only describe myself at that moment as in a “state of shock”. I immediately stopped crying and I was frozen with fear and was to terrified to move. What would the statue do next? Would it look at me again? Was I in the presence of GOD? I didn’t know and couldn’t make sense of it so I sat there with my eyes fixed on the statue, afraid to breathe. I sat for a couple hours as the room began to get darker. Eventually, I found enough courage to get up and leave. I found my coat and went out into the neighborhood to find my brother. It would be another ten years before I could share that story with someone else.
The house has recently been upgraded and made into apartments, but it still belongs to our family. Before construction began in 2006, I went home and spent several months with my mother at the house. My father had died that previous spring. One September afternoon while watching television together, my mother and I jumped from our chairs as we heard steps come up the side path towards the back of the house. We both headed for the kitchen as we heard the back screen door open, and the sound of the metal door knob turning on the door. When we walked into the kitchen, there was no one there. Someone should have been there! We both had heard it. I immediately ran through the house following the side path looking through the windows and then, to the front door to see if I could see someone on the property. But there was no one. When I opened the front door and stepped onto the sidewalk, I could see no one walking down the street.
The years in this house were filled with both happy and sad memories, but there was always a real “energy” to the lives lived there. Now, the building is barely recognizable as a newly painted apartment house. Many of the trees have been cut down, but an archaic, knotty, apple tree still survives at the back of the property. Crouching and bending with strong fat limbs, giving blossoms and apples with each season.
As people look out at it through those sunny windows, the tree looks back at the people on Palmerston Avenue.
Although ghost stories are not themselves a Jungian concept, the imagination and access to the supernatural through myth and story is tenant of analytical psychology. We all have our myths. Personal myths, family myths, even cultural myths. My experiences of the supernatural are relevant to me and my family. All of us are open to beliefs of the unexplained and perhaps that is why we have all had these otherworldly experiences. These stories make sense to us in light of what we accept as truth, reality and the world of possibility.
My grandmother’s house is located in the city of Brantford, Ontario. She was a single mother of three, who left her father’s farm after he died and bought a house of her own in the 1940’s. Her husband had died many years before and she now had to support her three sons and herself. My grandmother was a musician and devoutly Roman Catholic. The house was large and served as a rooming house to men during and after the war. She filled it with heavy antique furniture and large religious pictures which graced the rooms with 12 and 14 foot ceilings. After she passed away in 1964, my parents now newly married, moved into the house and it still remains with the family to this day.
While growing up at 10 Palmerston Avenue, there were a number of curious and disturbing experiences. The house was rambling with additions connected to the original Canadian Gothic structure. It was built in the mid to later 1800’s and had 3 owners previous to 1940, when my grandmother purchased it. My earliest memory of my own experience with ghostly energy was about the age of 3 yrs. I remember telling my mom that “they were coming” one Friday evening as she was putting groceries into the trunk of our car. My mother didn’t understand, and I was not able to explain it to her, but I was frightened. As I started to fall asleep that night I saw sparkling lights and then I remember seeing miniature people all around me. There was a small police officer and a small lady and they both floated around my bed-I remember them being friendly, laughing and talking to me and I remember wanting them to go away. But they stayed until I fell asleep.
A short time after this my mother recalled her experience of sitting alone in the kitchen at the table, sipping a cup of tea. The French door into the breakfast room was closed and the back door was locked. Suddenly to her amazement, the rocking chair across the room began to slowly rock. She was stunned as she looked at the moving chair. Then she recalls the chair rocking faster, for close to a minute before slowing down and then stopping. In her telling of the story she recalls feeling terrified and was afraid to move.
The large country kitchen was definitely a hot spot of activities over the years. In the 1940’s and 50’s my grandmother hosted informal parties where musicians would play and there was much singing and dancing. It even served as the dance floor for my own sweet sixteen party years later. As a child I remember feeling “spooked” as I would do homework at the kitchen table. The room was surrounded by large sunny windows looking out into the deep back yard with 60 year old apple trees and towering maples. At night, when you looked into total blackness there was the feeling, the undeniable feeling that someone or something was out there looking back. Many a night, I would be so filled with fright that I would leave the room.
Animals were another curiosity for us at the house as well. There was plague of distemper that cursed the house for several years beginning in the 1970’s. Tiger had been inoculated as a kitten so she never came down with the deadly illness, but every other cat that came to the house died with in a short while, after arrival. After Charlie, Morris and then Sam became infected, after each arriving from the pound, my parents announced-“Sorry, no more cats”. Since Sam had been with us for several months and he had just wandered off sick and died, my brother and I were heart broken. We prayed nightly for his return from the end of November and through the month of December leading up to Christmas. The original house had a small basement cellar that was accessiable only from the outside, porch of the house. Actually, a border had rented a room in the cellar at the time my grandmother had owned the home. The cellar was a dark, scary place and I was terrified of going down into it.
On Christmas morning, we came downstairs early to open gifts. A blanket of white snow covered everything as it had been snowing all evening and the snow had drifted up on the large covered side porch. As we opened gifts, we heard what could only be described as a cat, “mewing”. We looked for Tiger, but she was asleep in the kitchen. We looked outside at the porch but there was nothing, no footprints or paw prints for that matter. Finally, as we listened we heard the sound coming from the vent to the furnace room, in the cellar. Reluctantly, my father who was in no mood to find Sam, the sick cat locked downstairs went to investigate. To his dying day, my father maintains he had nothing to do with what was to follow. My dad went outside to the porch and down into the dark cellar. He opened the door to the furnace room, where the border had slept for those years during the war. Sitting there alone, next to the furnace was a tiny white kitten. He brought the kitten up and knocked the snow off his feet, looking completely dumb-founded and slightly annoyed. He blamed my mother who flatly denied placing the kitten there. However, we were delighted as kids because it didn’t matter to us where the tiny fur-ball came from. He clearly belonged to us now and that was a most memorable Christmas. Snowball, as we called him, lived a long, long life.
In 1976 my brother had a fish tank in his bedroom above the dining room. On one evening, the family was down stairs watching television when suddenly, there was a loud crash. What followed could only be described as a torrential down pour of water into the closed off room, with glass doors. We jumped up and ran upstairs to see the tank turned upside down in the middle of the bedroom –it made no sense to us. My father was too baffled and stunned to be angry, or to question my brother who had obviously been watching the television with him. This was in spite of the thousands of dollars damage to the plaster ceiling, the furniture and the antique carpet below.
Over the years there were many, many stories related to this house, however this one had the deepest impact on me personally. In April 1978, I was 13 years old. My parents were going through many struggles in their marriage and I recall a lot of arguing going on at that time. I recall it was Easter Sunday in the afternoon and there was a loud argument in the kitchen. My mother went upstairs and slammed the door and my father lay down on the sofa in the living room. In an angry voice he announced “there would be no Easter dinner.” My brother left and I went upstairs to my room and began to cry. As I cried, I sat on my chair and I began to talk to the statue of the Virgin Mary, next to my bed. She was placed on my nightstand beside an alarm clock. The alarm clock was that kind of digital clock that would make a clicking noise every time the digits flipped to the next minute. I began to pray and I pleaded with Mary. I asked her “Mary, would things ever get better?” “Would my life ever get better?” I was very upset, but what happened next stopped my tears in an instant. As I pleaded and cried I remember hearing the clock digit turn and click and at that same moment. The painted eyes on the statue opened and looked right at me. The eyes were like a doll’s eyes. They were large and a brilliantly bright blue, with thick black eyelashes. They were alive and other-worldly and they looked at me for several seconds before closing again.
I can only describe myself at that moment as in a “state of shock”. I immediately stopped crying and I was frozen with fear and was to terrified to move. What would the statue do next? Would it look at me again? Was I in the presence of GOD? I didn’t know and couldn’t make sense of it so I sat there with my eyes fixed on the statue, afraid to breathe. I sat for a couple hours as the room began to get darker. Eventually, I found enough courage to get up and leave. I found my coat and went out into the neighborhood to find my brother. It would be another ten years before I could share that story with someone else.
The house has recently been upgraded and made into apartments, but it still belongs to our family. Before construction began in 2006, I went home and spent several months with my mother at the house. My father had died that previous spring. One September afternoon while watching television together, my mother and I jumped from our chairs as we heard steps come up the side path towards the back of the house. We both headed for the kitchen as we heard the back screen door open, and the sound of the metal door knob turning on the door. When we walked into the kitchen, there was no one there. Someone should have been there! We both had heard it. I immediately ran through the house following the side path looking through the windows and then, to the front door to see if I could see someone on the property. But there was no one. When I opened the front door and stepped onto the sidewalk, I could see no one walking down the street.
The years in this house were filled with both happy and sad memories, but there was always a real “energy” to the lives lived there. Now, the building is barely recognizable as a newly painted apartment house. Many of the trees have been cut down, but an archaic, knotty, apple tree still survives at the back of the property. Crouching and bending with strong fat limbs, giving blossoms and apples with each season.
As people look out at it through those sunny windows, the tree looks back at the people on Palmerston Avenue.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The Holy Grail of the Unconscious
By SARA CORBETT
Published: September 16, 2009
This is a story about a nearly 100-year-old book, bound in red leather, which has spent the last quarter century secreted away in a bank vault in Switzerland. The book is big and heavy and its spine is etched with gold letters that say “Liber Novus,” which is Latin for “New Book.” Its pages are made from thick cream-colored parchment and filled with paintings of otherworldly creatures and handwritten dialogues with gods and devils. If you didn’t know the book’s vintage, you might confuse it for a lost medieval tome.
Some people feel that nobody should read the book, and some feel that everybody should read it. The truth is, nobody really knows. Most of what has been said about the book — what it is, what it means — is the product of guesswork, because from the time it was begun in 1914 in a smallish town in Switzerland, it seems that only about two dozen people have managed to read or even have much of a look at it.
Of those who did see it, at least one person, an educated Englishwoman who was allowed to read some of the book in the 1920s, thought it held infinite wisdom — “There are people in my country who would read it from cover to cover without stopping to breathe scarcely,” she wrote — while another, a well-known literary type who glimpsed it shortly after, deemed it both fascinating and worrisome, concluding that it was the work of a psychotic.
So for the better part of the past century, despite the fact that it is thought to be the pivotal work of one of the era’s great thinkers, the book has existed mostly just as a rumor, cosseted behind the skeins of its own legend — revered and puzzled over only from a great distance.
Which is why one rainy November night in 2007, I boarded a flight in Boston and rode the clouds until I woke up in Zurich, pulling up to the airport gate at about the same hour that the main branch of the Union Bank of Switzerland, located on the city’s swanky Bahnhofstrasse, across from Tommy Hilfiger and close to Cartier, was opening its doors for the day. A change was under way: the book, which had spent the past 23 years locked inside a safe deposit box in one of the bank’s underground vaults, was just then being wrapped in black cloth and loaded into a discreet-looking padded suitcase on wheels. It was then rolled past the guards, out into the sunlight and clear, cold air, where it was loaded into a waiting car and whisked away.
THIS COULD SOUND, I realize, like the start of a spy novel or a Hollywood bank caper, but it is rather a story about genius and madness, as well as possession and obsession, with one object — this old, unusual book — skating among those things. Also, there are a lot of Jungians involved, a species of thinkers who subscribe to the theories of Carl Jung, the Swiss psychiatrist and author of the big red leather book. And Jungians, almost by definition, tend to get enthused anytime something previously hidden reveals itself, when whatever’s been underground finally makes it to the surface.
Carl Jung founded the field of analytical psychology and, along with Sigmund Freud, was responsible for popularizing the idea that a person’s interior life merited not just attention but dedicated exploration — a notion that has since propelled tens of millions of people into psychotherapy. Freud, who started as Jung’s mentor and later became his rival, generally viewed the unconscious mind as a warehouse for repressed desires, which could then be codified and pathologized and treated. Jung, over time, came to see the psyche as an inherently more spiritual and fluid place, an ocean that could be fished for enlightenment and healing.
Whether or not he would have wanted it this way, Jung — who regarded himself as a scientist — is today remembered more as a countercultural icon, a proponent of spirituality outside religion and the ultimate champion of dreamers and seekers everywhere, which has earned him both posthumous respect and posthumous ridicule. Jung’s ideas laid the foundation for the widely used Myers-Briggs personality test and influenced the creation of Alcoholics Anonymous. His central tenets — the existence of a collective unconscious and the power of archetypes — have seeped into the larger domain of New Age thinking while remaining more at the fringes of mainstream psychology.
A big man with wire-rimmed glasses, a booming laugh and a penchant for the experimental, Jung was interested in the psychological aspects of séances, of astrology, of witchcraft. He could be jocular and also impatient. He was a dynamic speaker, an empathic listener. He had a famously magnetic appeal with women. Working at Zurich’s Burghölzli psychiatric hospital, Jung listened intently to the ravings of schizophrenics, believing they held clues to both personal and universal truths. At home, in his spare time, he pored over Dante, Goethe, Swedenborg and Nietzsche. He began to study mythology and world cultures, applying what he learned to the live feed from the unconscious — claiming that dreams offered a rich and symbolic narrative coming from the depths of the psyche. Somewhere along the way, he started to view the human soul — not just the mind and the body — as requiring specific care and development, an idea that pushed him into a province long occupied by poets and priests but not so much by medical doctors and empirical scientists.
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This article has been revised to reflect the following correction:
Correction: September 20, 2009
An article on Page 34 this weekend about Carl Jung and a book he wrote about struggling with his own demons misspells the name of a street in Zurich where, before it was published, the book was held for years in a bank safe-deposit box, and a correction in this space on Saturday also misspelled the name. It is Bahnhofstrasse, not Banhofstrasse or Banhoffstrasse. The article also misstates the location of Bollingen, the town where Jung built a stone tower as a summer residence. While it is on the north shore of Lake Zurich, it is south of the Jung family home in Küsnacht.
This article has been revised to reflect the following correction:
Correction: October 4, 2009
An article on Sept. 20 about the publication of Carl Jung’s Red Book misstated part of the name of the Swiss bank where the book was kept for many years. It is the Union Bank of Switzerland, not United.
Friday, May 1, 2009
Creation Stories from the Iroquois
A story from the Iroquois (Oneida) People
Oneida / Evil Spirit and the Good Spirit
Long, long ago, the earth was deep beneath the water. There was a great darkness because no sun or moon or stars shone. The only creatures living in this dark world were water animals such as the beaver, muskrat, duck and loon.
Far above the water-covered earth was the Land of the Happy Spirits, where the Great Spirit dwelled. In the center of this upper realm was a giant apple tree with roots that sank deep into the ground.
One day the Great Spirit pulled the tree up from its roots creating a pit in the ground. The Great Spirit called to his daughter, who lived in the Upper World. He commanded her to look into the pit. The woman did as she was told and peered through the hole. In the distance, she saw the Lower World covered by water and clouds.
The Great Spirit spoke to his daughter, telling her to go into the world of darkness. He then tenderly picked her up and dropped her into the hole. The woman, who would be called Sky Woman by those creatures watching her fall, began to slowly float downward.
As Sky Woman continued her descent, the water animals looked up. Far above them they saw a great light that was Sky Woman. The animals were initially afraid because of the light emanating from her. In their fear, they dove deep beneath the water.
The animals eventually conquered their fear and came back up to the surface. Now they were concerned about the woman, and what would happen to her when she reached the water.
The beaver told the others that they must find a dry place for her to rest upon. The beaver plunged deep beneath the water in search of earth. He was unsuccessful. After a time, his dead body surfaced to the top of the water.
The loon was the next creature to try to find some earth. He, too, was unsuccessful. Many others tried, but each animal failed. At last, the muskrat said he would try. When his dead body floated to the top, his little claws were clenched tight. The others opened his claws and found a little bit of earth.
The water animals summoned a great turtle and patted the earth upon its back. At once the turtle grew and grew, as did the amount of earth. This earth became North America, a great island.
During all this time, Sky Woman continued her gentle fall. The leader of the swans grew concerned as Sky Woman's approach grew imminent. He gathered a flock of swans that flew upward and allowed Sky Woman to rest upon their back. With great care, they placed her upon the newly formed earth.
Soon after her arrival, Sky Woman gave birth to twins. The first born became known as the Good Spirit. The other twin caused his mother so much pain that she died during his birth. He was to be known as the Evil Spirit.
The Good Spirit took his mother's head and hung it in the sky, and it became the sun. The Good Spirit also fashioned the stars and moon from his mother's body. He buried the remaining parts of Sky Woman under the earth. Thus, living things may always find nourishment from the soil for it springs from Mother Earth.
While the Good Spirit provided light, the Evil Spirit created the darkness. The Good Spirit created many things, but each time his brother would attempt to undo his good work.
The Good Spirit made the tall and beautiful trees, including the pines and hemlock. The Evil Spirit, to be contrary, stunted some trees or put gnarls and knots in their trunks. Other trees he covered in thorns or poisoned their fruit.
The Good Spirit made bear and deer. The Evil Spirit made poisonous animals such as lizards and serpents to destroy the animals created by his brother.
When the Good Spirit made springs and streams of pure crystal water, the Evil Spirit poisoned some and placed snakes in others. The Good Spirit made beautiful rivers. The Evil Spirit pushed rocks and dirt into the rivers creating swift and dangerous currents.
Everything the Good Spirit made his wicked brother attempted to destroy.
After the Good Spirit completed the earth, he created man out of red clay. Placing the man upon the earth, the Good Spirit instructed the man about how he should live. The Evil Spirit made a monkey from sea foam.
Upon completion of his work, the Good Spirit bestowed a protecting spirit upon all of his creations. This done, he called his brother and told him he must cease making trouble. The Evil Spirit emphatically refused. The Good Spirit became enraged at his brother's wickedness. He challenged his evil twin to combat. The winner would become the ruler of the world.
For their weapons they used the thorns of the giant apple tree. The battle raged for many days. The Good Spirit triumphed, overcoming his evil brother. The Good Spirit took his place as ruler of the earth and banished his brother to a dark cave under the ground. In this cave the Evil Spirit was to remain.
The Evil Spirit, however, has wicked servants who do his bidding and roam upon the earth. The wicked spirits are able to take any form and cause men to do evil things
The Good Spirit continues to create and protect mankind. It is the Good Spirit who controls the spirits of good men upon their death. His wicked brother takes possession of the souls of those who are evil like himself. And so it remains.
And another version from the Iroquois (Mohawk):
from an Iroquois Creation story
In the beginning, in the Sky World, a pregnant wife asked her husband to fetch the delicacies she craved. But she wanted the bark of a root of the Great Tree in the middle of the Sky World, which none were permitted to touch. Finally, however, he gave in, and scraped away soil to bare the root of the Tree. Underneath was a hole, and as the woman peered down into it, she fell through. The birds helped transport her as she fell, and the great Sea Turtle received her on his back.
Here, on the Sea Turtle's back, she planted bits of the roots and plants she had brought from the Sky World. And she walked across the turtle's back, planting, praying and creating the Earth that we know as Turtle Island.
The woman who had fallen from the sky then had a daughter, who became impregnated by the West Wind. While in the womb, the daughter's unborn twins began to quarrel about how they should emerge, the left-handed twin refusing to be born in the usual way. Instead, he forced himself out of his mother's left armpit, killing her as a result. The newborn twins then buried their mother, who became Corn Mother, source of corn, beans and squash, the Three Sisters of the Iroquois. From her heart grew sacred tobacco, used to send messages and thanks to the Sky World.
The two brothers continued to compete with each other as they created the animals and plants, and in the process, represented different ways of living. Right-Handed Twin created the beautiful hills, lakes, blossoms, gentle creatures; Left-Handed Twin, the jagged cliffs and whirlpools, thorns and predators. Right-Handed Twin was always truthful, reasonable, goodhearted, and "straight-arrow"; Left-Handed Twin lied, fought, rebelled and made "crooked" choices.
Because Right-Handed Twin created human beings, he is known as "Our Creator," and "The Master of Life." But Left-Handed Twin helped, and invented rituals of sorcery and healing. The world they built included both cooperation and competition, lovingkindness and aggression.
After they finished their creations, the continued to compete in other ways - by gambling, by playing lacross, then fighting with clubs. One day, grasping a deer antler, Right-handed Twin finally prevailed, and killed his brother, throwing the body of Left-Handed Twin over the edge of the earth. As a result, Right-Handed Twin rules day and the Sky-Worldand Left-Handed Twin prevails over night and the lower world.
Grandmother Skywoman was furious that Right-Handed Twin murdered his brother, and accused him of wrongdoing. Angry, and believing that grandmother had always favored the errant Left- Handed Twin, he cut off her head and threw it up toward the sky, where it became the Moon. Then he threw her body into the ocean, where it became all the fish of the sea.
The Iroquois believe that both Left-Handed Twin and Right- Handed Twin are necessary for the world to be in balance. During festivals, day activities honor Right-Handed Twin, and night activities such as feasting, singing and dancing honor Left-Handed Twin. This tension and struggle for balance between the two brothers and principles of life is incorporated into Iroquois festivals and cycles of life.
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Oneida / Evil Spirit and the Good Spirit
Long, long ago, the earth was deep beneath the water. There was a great darkness because no sun or moon or stars shone. The only creatures living in this dark world were water animals such as the beaver, muskrat, duck and loon.
Far above the water-covered earth was the Land of the Happy Spirits, where the Great Spirit dwelled. In the center of this upper realm was a giant apple tree with roots that sank deep into the ground.
One day the Great Spirit pulled the tree up from its roots creating a pit in the ground. The Great Spirit called to his daughter, who lived in the Upper World. He commanded her to look into the pit. The woman did as she was told and peered through the hole. In the distance, she saw the Lower World covered by water and clouds.
The Great Spirit spoke to his daughter, telling her to go into the world of darkness. He then tenderly picked her up and dropped her into the hole. The woman, who would be called Sky Woman by those creatures watching her fall, began to slowly float downward.
As Sky Woman continued her descent, the water animals looked up. Far above them they saw a great light that was Sky Woman. The animals were initially afraid because of the light emanating from her. In their fear, they dove deep beneath the water.
The animals eventually conquered their fear and came back up to the surface. Now they were concerned about the woman, and what would happen to her when she reached the water.
The beaver told the others that they must find a dry place for her to rest upon. The beaver plunged deep beneath the water in search of earth. He was unsuccessful. After a time, his dead body surfaced to the top of the water.
The loon was the next creature to try to find some earth. He, too, was unsuccessful. Many others tried, but each animal failed. At last, the muskrat said he would try. When his dead body floated to the top, his little claws were clenched tight. The others opened his claws and found a little bit of earth.
The water animals summoned a great turtle and patted the earth upon its back. At once the turtle grew and grew, as did the amount of earth. This earth became North America, a great island.
During all this time, Sky Woman continued her gentle fall. The leader of the swans grew concerned as Sky Woman's approach grew imminent. He gathered a flock of swans that flew upward and allowed Sky Woman to rest upon their back. With great care, they placed her upon the newly formed earth.
Soon after her arrival, Sky Woman gave birth to twins. The first born became known as the Good Spirit. The other twin caused his mother so much pain that she died during his birth. He was to be known as the Evil Spirit.
The Good Spirit took his mother's head and hung it in the sky, and it became the sun. The Good Spirit also fashioned the stars and moon from his mother's body. He buried the remaining parts of Sky Woman under the earth. Thus, living things may always find nourishment from the soil for it springs from Mother Earth.
While the Good Spirit provided light, the Evil Spirit created the darkness. The Good Spirit created many things, but each time his brother would attempt to undo his good work.
The Good Spirit made the tall and beautiful trees, including the pines and hemlock. The Evil Spirit, to be contrary, stunted some trees or put gnarls and knots in their trunks. Other trees he covered in thorns or poisoned their fruit.
The Good Spirit made bear and deer. The Evil Spirit made poisonous animals such as lizards and serpents to destroy the animals created by his brother.
When the Good Spirit made springs and streams of pure crystal water, the Evil Spirit poisoned some and placed snakes in others. The Good Spirit made beautiful rivers. The Evil Spirit pushed rocks and dirt into the rivers creating swift and dangerous currents.
Everything the Good Spirit made his wicked brother attempted to destroy.
After the Good Spirit completed the earth, he created man out of red clay. Placing the man upon the earth, the Good Spirit instructed the man about how he should live. The Evil Spirit made a monkey from sea foam.
Upon completion of his work, the Good Spirit bestowed a protecting spirit upon all of his creations. This done, he called his brother and told him he must cease making trouble. The Evil Spirit emphatically refused. The Good Spirit became enraged at his brother's wickedness. He challenged his evil twin to combat. The winner would become the ruler of the world.
For their weapons they used the thorns of the giant apple tree. The battle raged for many days. The Good Spirit triumphed, overcoming his evil brother. The Good Spirit took his place as ruler of the earth and banished his brother to a dark cave under the ground. In this cave the Evil Spirit was to remain.
The Evil Spirit, however, has wicked servants who do his bidding and roam upon the earth. The wicked spirits are able to take any form and cause men to do evil things
The Good Spirit continues to create and protect mankind. It is the Good Spirit who controls the spirits of good men upon their death. His wicked brother takes possession of the souls of those who are evil like himself. And so it remains.
And another version from the Iroquois (Mohawk):
from an Iroquois Creation story
In the beginning, in the Sky World, a pregnant wife asked her husband to fetch the delicacies she craved. But she wanted the bark of a root of the Great Tree in the middle of the Sky World, which none were permitted to touch. Finally, however, he gave in, and scraped away soil to bare the root of the Tree. Underneath was a hole, and as the woman peered down into it, she fell through. The birds helped transport her as she fell, and the great Sea Turtle received her on his back.
Here, on the Sea Turtle's back, she planted bits of the roots and plants she had brought from the Sky World. And she walked across the turtle's back, planting, praying and creating the Earth that we know as Turtle Island.
The woman who had fallen from the sky then had a daughter, who became impregnated by the West Wind. While in the womb, the daughter's unborn twins began to quarrel about how they should emerge, the left-handed twin refusing to be born in the usual way. Instead, he forced himself out of his mother's left armpit, killing her as a result. The newborn twins then buried their mother, who became Corn Mother, source of corn, beans and squash, the Three Sisters of the Iroquois. From her heart grew sacred tobacco, used to send messages and thanks to the Sky World.
The two brothers continued to compete with each other as they created the animals and plants, and in the process, represented different ways of living. Right-Handed Twin created the beautiful hills, lakes, blossoms, gentle creatures; Left-Handed Twin, the jagged cliffs and whirlpools, thorns and predators. Right-Handed Twin was always truthful, reasonable, goodhearted, and "straight-arrow"; Left-Handed Twin lied, fought, rebelled and made "crooked" choices.
Because Right-Handed Twin created human beings, he is known as "Our Creator," and "The Master of Life." But Left-Handed Twin helped, and invented rituals of sorcery and healing. The world they built included both cooperation and competition, lovingkindness and aggression.
After they finished their creations, the continued to compete in other ways - by gambling, by playing lacross, then fighting with clubs. One day, grasping a deer antler, Right-handed Twin finally prevailed, and killed his brother, throwing the body of Left-Handed Twin over the edge of the earth. As a result, Right-Handed Twin rules day and the Sky-Worldand Left-Handed Twin prevails over night and the lower world.
Grandmother Skywoman was furious that Right-Handed Twin murdered his brother, and accused him of wrongdoing. Angry, and believing that grandmother had always favored the errant Left- Handed Twin, he cut off her head and threw it up toward the sky, where it became the Moon. Then he threw her body into the ocean, where it became all the fish of the sea.
The Iroquois believe that both Left-Handed Twin and Right- Handed Twin are necessary for the world to be in balance. During festivals, day activities honor Right-Handed Twin, and night activities such as feasting, singing and dancing honor Left-Handed Twin. This tension and struggle for balance between the two brothers and principles of life is incorporated into Iroquois festivals and cycles of life.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Monday, April 27, 2009
Group dynamics and internet relationships: Love and loathing in cyberspce
I have been thinking alot about groups lately, group dynamics, family dynamics even internet dynamics. Its interesting that many of the best and the worst aspects of typical group behaviour can be magnified in cyberworld. Many on-line groups and services offer 24 hour information and on-line support and communication. With a few key strokes, an internet user can be introduced to a new world, new people with similar interests and concerns across the globe. The potential for creativity is tremendous. Modern medicine for instance, can access the expertise of a surgeon from another country anywhere in the world and this person can perform a delicate operation in his office, while the patient lies on a table hours or days away by flight. On-line therapy means that a client may have his choice of therapists, specializing in any area of expertise allowing a person the choices he wouldn't normally have in a remote community. On-line games keep happy gamers logged-on for hours.Yes, the possibilities great and small are endless.
But group dynamics are another thing. On-line forums and support groups, chat rooms may very well bring people from all over the world to a place to discuss common interests, but the age old problem of unconscious material is not typically handled well in cyberspace, in my opinion. This is new terrain, relatively speaking in the history of human interaction. While the on-line group can be a potential for great communication and healing, it can also be a place where the worst of human dynamics take place. Great damage against others can be inflicted without the same level of conscientious consideration that face to face contact demands. Lets face it, no one thinks that a few words can cause harm or influence others. But as it has been said through antiquity, indeed "the pen is mightier than the sword". Add to on-line writing, hate filled rethoric, malicious intent and zero consequences for unethical actions, and many people can be routinely influenced by the negativity and bullying of internet banter. Hateful rethoric can be disguised as "free speech", "nonsencical or fanatical thought" and honest opinion but that is limited to an online paper, journal or blog.
What if malicious dialogue happens routinely in a group, where psychological connections and associations are made with other group members? What if it is tolerated as the norm within the group and any protestors are seen as outside the group norm?
These are interesting questions for cyber ethics and group study. The on-line forum has great potential for connection, relationships, dialogue and intellectual sharing. It also has great potential for incubating psychopathology both in the internet and in non-internet social settings. The antedote in my opinion, is reflection on problem group dynamics and healthy group dynamics and applying the principals learned to internet settings.
The problem of group influence over its members is an old one-much study of groups has learned how typical family dynamics are often taken into social settings unconsciously and then people take on the unrealized roles in a family: The goodchild; the fixer; the scapegoat; the problemchild; the bully; the ghost; the dependent one;the clown, etc. Here is an intersting link to group dynamics study. There are many out there but little has been written on group dynamics in cyberspace.
http://www.proteuscoven.org/proteus/frypan.htm
Yes, my recent experience with forum participation has made me think of a poem written by Pastor Martin Niemöller (1892–1984) about the inactivity of German intellectuals following the Nazi rise to power and the purging of their chosen targets, group after group.
Poem "First they came ...." (1976 version)
Original
Als die Nazis die Kommunisten holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Kommunist.
Als sie die Sozialdemokraten einsperrten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Sozialdemokrat.
Als sie die Gewerkschafter holten,
habe ich nicht protestiert;
ich war ja kein Gewerkschafter.
Als sie die Juden holten,
habe ich geschwiegen;
ich war ja kein Jude.
Als sie mich holten,
gab es keinen mehr, der protestieren konnte.
When the Nazis came for the communists,
I remained silent;
I was not a communist.
Then they locked up the social democrats,
I remained silent;
I was not a social democrat.
Then they came for the trade unionists,
I did not speak out;
I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews,
I did not speak out;
I was not a Jew.
When they came for me,
there was no one left to speak out for me.
Peace,
CK
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
Buffy, the Warrior and the Hero's journey: Resurrecting the full manifestation of the Goddess
"I just realized something, something that really never occured to me before. We are going to win." Buffy Summers from Buffy the Vampire Slayer
The warrior archetype is a piece of the larger archetype of "hero" according to Analytical psychology. All heros embark on a journey, which in Jungian terms can be called the process of individuation. The road to discovery of the "Self" according to Carl Jung. Many of our hero's and warriors have been personafied as male characters-we only have to think of Luke Skywalker; Aragorn from Lord of the Rings; or Neo from The Matrix for modern interpretation of the warrior hero. However, there are also relevant female warrior heros. The character of Buffy from Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a good example. Buffy has been a favorite of mine while working as a therapist with girls and young women, because she is a modern and relatable archetype long buried in our culture.
The Ancient Greeks were the last European civilization to include reasonably healthy feminine archetypes. Of the twelve Gods in Olympus, five of them were women. Until very recently, though, we only embraced three of the feminine archetypes. Women could be sex objects, in which case they connected with the archetype of Aphrodite (or Venus, in the Roman pantheon), the Goddess of Love, Desire and Beauty. Women could be wives, in which case they connected with the archetype of Hera, the wife of Zeus and the Goddess of Marriage—who, despite her tremendous strength and cunning, was repeatedly forced to be subservient to her philandering husband. And women could be mothers, in which case they connected with the archetype of Hestia, the Goddess of the Hearth and protector of the home. These three archetypes embodied the sum total of the feminine for more than 2,000 years. The male ego successfully suppressed the powerful female archetypes of Athena and Artemis, who collectively embody feminine strength, skill and mastery.
Athena was the Goddess of Wisdom, Reason and Purity. Severing our connection to her archetype was no small feat, as Athena was one of the most revered and respected of all of the Olympians. In fact, the city of Athens is named after her. Athena was fair, just, and an incredibly powerful warrior. She was the embodiment of feminine strength. While Ares, the God of War (and the Greek counterpart to Mars, the Roman God of War) was wantonly destructive, childish, violent, aggressive, and ultimately a coward, Athena was proud, strong, and courageous. More importantly, Athena would only fight in order to defend the city—she would never initiate any conflicts, and she always preferred diplomacy to warfare.
Athena is the archetype of the female warrior. Female warriors are in no way inferior to male warriors: Time and again, women have proved that they are in every way equal to men on the battlefield. The difference is that female warriors do not fight in the same way that male warriors do, nor do they fight for the same reasons. Male warriors fight to attack, while female warriors fight to defend. The female warrior archetype has returned, however. We see it when Sarah Michelle Gellar beats up vampires and saves the world (while still maintaining every ounce of her femininity) in Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
Artemis, the Goddess of the Hunt, is the archetype of the female athlete. In every way, she was the equal of her brother, Apollo. Artemis has returned as a useful archetype for women today, thanks to the popularity of women’s athletics. Women now have role models and opportunities to explore their physical strength, and test and improve their skills through competitive sports.
We have always measured “masculinity” based on strength, power, and skill, but these qualities are as present in women as they are in men. Women were supposed to be delicate flowers who needed men to protect them. The truth, however, is that while men may have the edge over women in terms of brute strength, that women often surpass men in skill and dexterity. Once we take biology and reproduction out of the equation, men and women are very evenly matched. So what then, are the truly “masculine” and “feminine” qualities? The masculine principle is focused, expressive, and direct. The feminine principle is diffuse, intuitive, and receptive.
The feminine principle provides the container to support the masculine energy. Masculine energy expands, and feminine energy contracts. Any action can be “masculine” or “feminine” in nature, depending on how it is applied. Warrior energy on its own is neither masculine nor feminine. It becomes masculine when we attack in order to expand our borders; it becomes feminine when we fight to defend and protect our tribe from invasion.
It’s true that men tend to be more in touch with the more “masculine” or yang aspects, while women tend to be more in touch with the more “feminine” or yin aspects. But not being aware of or familiar with our complimentary nature doesn’t mean that we can’t learn about it and express it. This, in fact, is the reason that men and women form relationships with each other. Our partners are our mirrors, and when men and women relate to each other—whether that relationship is sexual or not—what we see reflected is our complimentary nature. We see the parts of ourselves that we haven’t integrated or owned yet. And through our relationships with the opposite gender, we learn how to connect with and own these parts of ourselves, and experience true balance. We need to learn to acknowledge, accept and embrace these two complimentary natures. We each have both Mars and Venus within us, and we need to learn how to appreciate and express them both.
Many believe that the road to the knowing the "Self" is a solitary undertaking, however our feminine warrior heros, show us this is not completely true. Buffy for instance, has always acknowledged the struggle with her need for her friends and others, even as the Slayer (there can only be one). The resolution of her role as slayer in relationship to her feminine qualities is what allows her to save the world in the final series. Indeed, women who take on the challenges of living in the modern world can recognize their inherent strength and the gifts that empower them to succeed as warrior women.
Peace,
Colleen Kelly
Special thanks to Jen Delyth for her beautiful art work. Jen's art work can be purchased at http://www.kelticdesigns.com (images not to be copied)
http://www.watcherjunior.tv/02/pdf/lowe.pdf
http://www.kelticdesigns.com/
http://www.astrolandia.net/textos/balancingmarsandvenusineachofus.pdf
Saturday, April 18, 2009
Dream interpretation: From Freud to Jung
"The least of things with a meaning is worth more in life than the greatest of things without it." Carl Jung, Modern Man in Search of a Soul
Carl Jung, was a student and protege of Sigmund Freud. For the first part of his career, Jung assisted Freud with his development of dream interpretation and the technique of "free association". Later, Jung broke away from Freud's thinking and developed his own system of beliefs about dreams and their relevence to the dreamer.
Sigmund Freud is known for interpreting dreams on the object level; that is, according to the relationship between the dreamer, and the persons or situations in his environment. Jung introduces the subject level. What is the subjective level? The fact that the dream reveals in a symbolic way expressions of individual psychological life or of his internal transformations. This way, the dream becomes an indicator of those changes that sometimes point out the development of the individuation process.
So, if a man dreams of his mother, the mother is not an evocation of the real mother, but of his anima, that is his emotional feminine side. The mother can also be a suggestion to what is fundamentally biological in the human nature or to the ideas and concepts familiar to the individual that represent his inherited background, his homeland in a cultural way.
For Freud, the dream is retrospective (it refers mainly to past events), situated in the person's childhood ( eg.psychological trauma, sexual fixations). By contrast,Jung's dream is prospective; it represents a kind of map of dreamer's future evolution. For Freud, dreams are the psyches way of talking about infantile complexes (or unresolved problems), Jung states, in accordance to his orientation, that complexes are not of importance, but what the unconscious does with them. This way, the complexes become raw material for dreams, the language through which the dream (unconscious) expresses itself.
For Jung the concept of "compensation" includes another powerful idea: the dream is an attempt to counterbalance a divided psychological tendency. Dream analysis should aim the uncovering of its compensation's nature. For example, in one clinical situation, as a result of a dream analysis, Jung had to explain to his patient that she must resign her too rationalist attitude (as a consequence of her animus or hidden male inflation). This way the dream becomes a message of the unconscious that indicate several disastrous deficiencies in the individual (or society) existential orientation.
Finally, Jung adds to the free association method, the method of "amplification". He affirms that there are elements of the dream to which the dreamer cannot provide personal associations. These are the symbols alive in meaning in a person's life. In this case, the analyst should intervene with his knowledge and complete the dreamer's gaps. The associative material comes from different cultural directions: mythology, religion, alchemy, folklore.
It is noted that these essential completions to the theory of dream interpretation should not be considered without first considering the work of Freud. Jung states repeatedly that dreams ought to be interpreted at first by Freud's method. Only exceptional cases demand the use of his method. Since that time, other theorists and schools of psychology have developed other uses of dreams in treatment.
Peace,
Colleen
http://thezodiac.com/mundus.htm
http://www.carl-jung.net/index.html
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