INDIVIDUATION AND SUBTLE BODY A Commentary on Jung’s Kundalini Seminar A dissertation submitted by GARY W. SEEMAN to PACIFICA GRADUATE INSTITUTE in partial fulfillment of the requirement for the degree of DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in CLINICAL PSYCHOLOGY This dissertation has been accepted for the faculty of Pacifica Graduate Institute by:
To contact the author, please send an e-mail to drgary@drgaryseeman.com or call me at (415) 271-2350. You may obtain additional electronic copies of this dissertation from the publications page of my website: http://drgaryseeman.com.
SEPTEMBER 8, 2001
Copyright by GARY W. SEEMAN 2001
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ABSTRACT INDIVIDUATION AND SUBTLE BODY A Commentary on Jung’s Kundalini Seminar by Gary W. Seeman In 1932, C. G. Jung and J. W. Hauer presented a seminar series on the psychology of Kundalini yoga. Throughout these lectures, Jung used Kundalini yoga symbolism to extend the symbolic range of his analytical psychology. He and Hauer also discussed many concepts from Indian philosophy. Some of their comments have been criticized for misinterpreting Kundalini yoga. Others have raised controversy, especially Jung’s many warnings about dangers to Westerners who attempt yoga practices. Using a dialogic, hermeneutic method, this study compares Jung’s commentaries about Kundalini yoga with a Kundalini yoga practitioner’s perspective. To help bridge these disciplines, it addresses the following research questions: 1. How does personal transformation guided by analytical psychology resemble or differ from personal transformation in Kundalini yoga? 2. What controversies have been raised by Jung’s commentaries and interpretations of Kundalini yoga texts? 3. How did these controversies arise from personal, cultural, and practice perspectives? 4. Can some of these controversies be settled? 5. What insights or wisdom does each of these disciplines contribute to the other?
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To answer these questions, the hermeneutic discipline guides the researcher in exploring the cultural and historical perspectives of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga. It identifies issues raised by Jung’s critics and presents the evolution of his psychology and its core concepts throughout his mature career. A depth of context is created by addressing (a) Jung’s relationship with Indian spirituality, (b) his individuation construct, (c) a cross-cultural review of subtle body symbolism and its evolution, and (d) Kundalini yoga as described by practitioners. This study concludes by presenting findings in response to the research questions and suggesting topics for other studies, including a survey of current methods for measuring human bio-fields, and creation of a subtle energy model of psychological transformation.
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Dedicated with gratitude to His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa XVI Reverend Patrick Young, PhD
I knocked, and they opened doors.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS My wife, Janet Birgenheier, recently said to me that she feels she is earning this degree along with me. Her assessment is true. I begin these acknowledgements by thanking her for the love and support she has given me during the 5 years it has taken to earn this degree, including almost 2 years of writing this study—a time when she watched me work through most weekends and many evenings without complaint. Janet, I thank you for a precious love that encourages me to fulfill my calling. Many others have offered invaluable and selfless assistance for completing this project. I wish to thank my dissertation advisor, J. Marvin Spiegelman, for encouraging me to pursue this topic during my first year at Pacifica Graduate Institute. Let me also express appreciation for his responsiveness and his wise counsel that would not be possible without may decades of practicing analytical psychology and his very informative publications on related subjects. These publications respond to his calling to create a dialog between Jung’s psychology, some of the world’s foremost spiritual practices, and science. I am grateful to my reader, Joan Shivarpita Harrigan, a psychologist and yogin who seeks heart and soul to embody the teachings of a 500-yearold Kundalini yoga lineage. I thank her for her unique insights and her loving kindness. I also want to express my gratitude to Bonnie Greenwell, a psychologist and a Kundalini expert in her own right, for encouraging my writing and introducing me to Joan Harrigan. To begin to grasp the import of two vast disciplines, I have reached out to subject experts who were generous in their support. Let me especially thank Sonu Shamdasani, the distinguished historian and editor of the recent book that presents the Kundalini seminars (Jung, 1996). His erudite commentary in the opening pages of the book helped
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put me on the right path. I thank him for his personal advice that included providing me with an electronic version of the book to assist my research, answering many e-mail questions, and suggesting valuable source materials. I want to express my gratitude to Nathan Schwartz-Salant for his suggestion that I read the work of Jean Gebser, and to Beverly Rubik for her ground-breaking work in frontier science and her guidance in physics. I also want to thank John Carmody for his friendship and his many insights about analytical psychology at its greatest depths. I am also grateful to the Pacifica Graduate Institute faculty members Christine Lewis and Lionel Corbett, who encouraged me to pursue this project, as well as Glen Slater and Joseph Coppin, for their help in honing my research and writing. Finally, I want to express my gratitude and friendship to all of the students in my cohort and many classmates in other years who are soulmates on this path of depth psychology and were eager to discuss subtle body ideas. I especially want to thank my classmates, Bettina von Moltke, Aura Glaser, Sonja Seltzer, and Sam Shaffer, who offered valuable suggestions and comments for the dissertation. I am also grateful for the many hours spent in lively discussion about subtle body with Henry Drummond and Connie Rodriguez. May this document help others open doors to individuation and self-realization.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS Chapter 1: Individuation, Subtle Body, and Kundalini Rising . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Statement of the Problem . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1 Research Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .5 Literature Review and Chapter Outline . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 Chapter 2: Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .6 Chapter 3: The Kundalini Seminar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Chapter 4: Jung and Indian Spirituality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Chapter 5: Individuation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Chapter 6: Subtle Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19 Chapter 7: Kundalini Yoga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21 Chapter 8: Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .23 Chapter 2: Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 Selecting a Method . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27 Hermeneutics as Method and Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .30 Transcending the Limitations of Perspective . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 Writing as a Creative Learning Process . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35 Deciphering Specialized Language . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .38 Conclusion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 39 Chapter 3: The Kundalini Seminar . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Chapter Overview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 40 Seminar History and Goals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 41 Seminar Contents . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47 Individuation Viewed Through the Chakras . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 Muladhara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 Svadhisthana . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 Manipura . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 Anahata . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 Visuddha . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 Ajna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .67 Sahasrara . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 70 Yoga Concepts and Individuation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .73 Gross, Subtle, Supreme . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .74 Jung’s Alleged “Rope Trick” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 77 “The Sublimation of Man” . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 83 Chapter Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 93 Chapter 4: Jung and Indian Spirituality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 A Path Not Taken . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 95 Critics and Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Jung’s Ambivalence Toward Eastern Spirituality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 103 Differences Between East and West . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 106 Eastern Introversion, Western Extraversion . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107 Western Lack of Discipline . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 109 Belief that India Lacks Critical Thinking . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110
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Omniscience Not Possible . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 110 Western Alienation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 112 Is Yoga Incompatible with the Western Psyche? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 115 Was Jung Hampered by a European Bias? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 118 Defending Against Accusations of Mysticism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 Using His Own Terminology to Analyze Yoga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124 Danger of Psychosis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 125 Does Jung Understand Yoga? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 127 Many Critics Misunderstand Jung . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132 Summary of Chapter Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139 Chapter 5: Individuation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 142 Individuation and Eastern Thought . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .147 Jung’s Visionary Journey . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Meister Eckhart—A Psychological Mystic . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 164 Individuation and Alchemy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .173 Alchemy in Historical Context . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 174 Jung’s Rediscovery of Alchemy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 175 A Bridge Between East and West . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 176 Processes of Western Alchemy. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 178 Synchronicity and the Psychoid Unconscious . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 186 Concluding and Summary Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 188 Chapter 6: Subtle Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190 Subtle Body and Shamanism . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 191 Subtle Body in Alchemy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198 “Psychic Infection” and Related Concepts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 204 Two Alchemical Axioms of Transformation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206 Imaginal Perception of Subtle Body . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212 Progression of the Coniunctio . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .215 Subtle Body in World Religions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 225 Chapter Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 233 Chapter 7: Kundalini Yoga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 235 Traditional Kundalini Yoga Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237 From Purification to Absorption . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240 Challenges of Kundalini Rising . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 243 The Origins of India’s Sacred Texts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 247 Indian Metaphysics Relate Macrocosm to Microcosm . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 251 Samkhya . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 252 Classical Yoga . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 253 Advaita Vedanta . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 258 Different Yogas, Different Temperaments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 260 Kundalini Risings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 261 1932 Kundalini Seminar Concepts and Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 268 Other Recommended Sources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271 The Tantric Buddhism of Tibet . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .274 Subtle Body Correspondences of Tantraism and Acupuncture . . . . . . . . . . 275
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Chapter Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 276 Chapter 8: Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278 Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278 A Brief Review . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 278 Findings of Similarity and Difference . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Philosophical Similarities . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 283 Similarities of Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286 Similar Goals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 289 Differences of Philosophy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .289 Differences in Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 292 Controversies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 295 Unitary Consciousness . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 296 European Prejudices . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 298 Warnings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 300 Confusing Teaching and Writing Styles . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 301 Hermeneutic Methodology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302 Insufficient Understanding of Indian Spirituality . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 304 Many Critics Misunderstand Jung . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306 Insights Analytical Psychology and Kundalini Yoga Offer Each Other . . . 307 Jung’s Philosophical Offerings to Indian Spirituality . . . . . . . . . . . .307 Analytical Psychology’s Offerings to Yoga Practice . . . . . . . . . . . . 308 Analytical Psychology’s Insight about the Goals of Yoga Practice . 310 Kundalini Yoga’s Philosophical Offerings to Analytical Psychology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 311 Kundalini Yoga’s Insights for the Practice of Analytical Psychology . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312 Compatibility of Goals . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312 Summary of Research Findings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312 Future Directions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 315 Detecting and Measuring the Human Aura . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 316 Other Possible Dissertation Topics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 319 Toward a Subtle Energy Model of Psychological Transformation . . . . . . . 320 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 Appendix A: Electronic Research and Writing Tools . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 339
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FIGURES 1: Muladhara Chakra Pictogram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 2: Svadhisthana Chakra Pictogram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 3: Manipura Chakra Pictogram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 4: Anahata Chakra Pictogram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 61 5: Visuddha Chakra Pictogram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 63 6: Ajna Chakra Pictogram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .67 7: Sahasrara Lotus Pictogram . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 69 8. Psychological Types . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 145 9. Conscious and Unconscious Relationships in Analysis and Alchemical Opus . . 182 10. T’ai-Ki . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 197 11. Rosarium Philosophorum Illustration of Conjoined King and Queen . . . . . . . . 203 12. Adam Kadmon . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 230 13. The Lightning Flash . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 231 14. Kundalini Risings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 265 TABLES 1. Jung’s Psychological Interpretation of the Padmas . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 2. Description of Kundalini Yoga Terms During the 1932 Kundalini Seminar . . . . .90
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FORMATTING NOTES The style set forth in the Publication Manual of the American Psychological Association (1994) requires the inclusion of footnotes that are contained in quoted text. To avoid confusion between my footnotes, which are set in arabic numbers, and those in quoted text where the original footnotes are arabic numbers, I have set the quoted footnotes in Roman numerals. Typographical conventions vary between American Psychological Association style and other styles, including those used in Europe. I have retained such styles in quoted text because they are not wrong, per se. They are only different. Examples of such retained formatting includes the positioning of punctuation within or outside quotation marks. I use gender-neutral language and leave quoted text unchanged where it employs the previously common usage of the masculine as a neutral gender. I do not correct the that/which distinction in quoted text because these words were interchangeable until recently. Also, their differentiation has not proliferated as quickly in psychological writing as it has in journalism, for instance.
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Chapter 1 Individuation, Subtle Body, and Kundalini Rising In 1932, C. G. Jung collaborated with J. W. Hauer to present a seminar about Kundalini1 yoga2 to Europeans (Jung, 1996b). This seminar was one of Jung’s many pioneering efforts to explore the processes of psychological transformation found in worldwide religious teachings. His was an early introduction to many who had not known about Kundalini yoga, and thus he performed a valuable service. However, when his interpretations were reviewed by Kundalini practitioners, they were widely criticized. This study explores the context of the Kundalini seminar. It reviews Jung’s interpretations at the time they were made and in the context of his later theoretical modifications. It also presents a dialog between his interpretations and the current occidental literature and knowledge of Kundalini yoga. Statement of the Problem Jung’s analytical psychology and the world’s religions share the goal of realization of the self. How one attains this goal is a mystery of mysteries that is defined differently by various traditions. The starting point of the journey is mundane human consciousness, but the state of fulfillment cannot be communicated by words, alone. The
According to Joan Shivarpita Harrigan (2000, p. 1), “Kundalini is the Sanskrit word for the spiritual power that dwells within us all.” When released, Kundalini acts intelligently to enable spiritual transformation. “The word yoga is derived from the verbal root “yuj, meaning ‘to yoke, harness’” (Feuerstein, 1990, p. 412). This root meaning denotes spiritual practices that harness or stop the body, senses, mind, and emotions from their habitual activity to achieve the profound concentration and stillness required for self-realization.
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2 essence of the self is both too subtle and too intense to be grasped by a reactive mind possessed by passions and habitual thoughts. When Jung took his leap of faith and dropped into the unconscious on December 12, 1913 (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 179), he fully committed himself to a journey into the unknown. Endowed with a powerful intelligence and guided by an extremely intuitive nature, he blazed a trail for many in a European culture where science and religion had parted ways and lost sight of any ultimate goal (Tarnas, 1991). During his lengthy career, he extended his search beyond the European experience to include many of the world’s religious and cultural traditions. Jung’s interest in Eastern spirituality began in childhood, when he frequently asked his mother to read to him from a children’s book that described Hindu gods. He returned to their pictures many times (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 17), linking them with his first childhood revelation of a phallic god residing in an earthen cavern (pp. 11-12). Jung’s interest in yoga intensified when preparing to write his seminal work in 1912, which was later re-written and titled, Symbols of Transformation (Clarke, 1994, p. 103). He linked the writing of that publication with his break with Freud, because he found Freud’s sexual theory of libido3 to be too confining for his emerging symbolic vision (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 167). Jung’s first introduction to Kundalini yoga came when he was stymied by the dream symbols and physical symptoms of a female, European patient who had been born
Libido was originally defined within Freudian psychoanalysis as “the energy of the sexual drive” and was later extended to include the energy of the death instinct (Hinsie & Campbell, 1970, p. 431). Jung defined libido as “psychic energy” or “appetite in its natural state,” “a desire or impulse which is unchecked by any kind of authority, moral or otherwise” (Jung, 1952/1956, p. 135).
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3 in India (Hauer & Jung, 1996, p. 106). While treating her, he obtained a copy of The Serpent Power by John Woodroffe, writing under the pseudonym of Arthur Avalon (Avalon, 1974), soon after it appeared. Jung’s lengthy and detailed account (1946/1966, pp. 333-337) of the dreams and symptoms encountered during her Kundalini rising provides fascinating reading.4 The Kundalini seminar of 1932 was a planned event where Jung was to present a psychological commentary, and “Hauer, as the specialist, was to present a scholarly philological and historical account” as a foundation for Jung’s commentary (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xxxiv). Sonu Shamdasani, editor of the Kundalini seminar book, infers from this assignment of roles that some of the criticism heaped upon Jung for construing Kundalini yoga within his own psychological framework was unjust. If Jung’s seminars are evaluated from the perspective of understanding Kundalini yoga within its own sociohistorical context this criticism is doubtless valid. However, within the context of Jung’s collaboration with Hauer, this was the task of the latter; Jung’s aim was to elucidate the psychological meaning of spontaneous symbolism that resembled that of Kundalini yoga . . . . Jung’s psychological interpretation is predicated on the assumption that Kundalini yoga represented a systemization of inner experience that spontaneously presented itself in the West in a mode that resembled but was not necessarily identical with the way it did so in the East. (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xliv) This assignment of roles may explain Jung’s interpretation through the lens of analytical psychology, but his popularity brings attention to his writing independent of
Jung has been widely criticized for interpreting Kundalini symbolism as a descent in Europeans and an ascent in peoples of the East. In his presentation at Hauer’s English lecture of October 6, 1932, (Jung, 1996, pp. 104-106) and in his written account (Jung, 1946/1966, pp. 330-337), Jung clearly recalls her symptoms gradually moving from the perineal region up the body, to the top of her head. This account also suggests that in Jung’s thinking, archetypal activation is not necessarily genetic!both of her parents were European!but that a person’s psychology could be linked to a foreign culture in which he or she had been immersed.
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4 assigning the expert role to Hauer. Thus, those who follow Jung’s teachings without recourse to traditional Kundalini teachings or interpretations of those teachings by advanced practitioners are bound to misunderstand some of the most basic Kundalini yoga concepts and practices. Few Europeans practiced Kundalini yoga at the time Jung was commenting on its symbolism. Jung has been widely criticized for warning Westerners that it is dangerous and inappropriate to adopt eastern practices (Jung, 1952/1956, Shamdasani, 1996, pp. xxix-xxxi; Jung, 1936/1969, pp. 533-534; Clarke, 1994, pp. 144-177). However, Jung’s attitude is easier to understand if one considers that he encountered cases where people experienced difficulties by adopting Kundalini yoga practices without proper preparation (Sonu Shamdasani, personal communication, November 20, 2000). The wider adoption of yoga in the West only began in Jung’s final years, and although some of his admonishments about Europeans masking their problems with Eastern garb may be worthwhile, the experiences of many argue against his frequent and emphatic warnings. Today’s practitioners of yoga are supported by the greater availability of numerous, improved translations of yoga texts. Advances in air travel and its decreased costs have enabled many advanced teachers of tantric5 practices to initiate and guide people of many nations in these oral traditions (Clarke, 1994). I am one of those people who was drawn to such teachings by direct contact with an adept teacher of tantric Buddhism, which shares common roots with Kundalini yoga
Tantra means the “the warp of reality” (White, 1996) that is explored in deep meditation and is also a synonym for “textbook” (Feuerstein, 1990) because the body of yogic theory and practice known as tantraism is documented in an extensive sacred literature of texts, or tantras.
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5 (White, 1996). H. H. Gyalwa Karmapa XVI, who headed the Kagyu lineage of Tibetan Buddhism, visited San Francisco in 1977. I had been doing Tibetan Buddhist meditation for a year. Within a week and a half, I had a dream experience of traveling out of my body to witness a rainbow white light, and encountered two living saints. The first was Rev. Patrick Young, a Christian psychic and healer who helped me open to compassionate love and who encouraged my imaginal perception. The second was H. H. Gyalwa Karmapa XVI, who granted an initiation of awakened mind that empowered my spiritual awakening.6 At that time I became more aware of and moved by subtle energies and spiritual experiences. I have had to cope with the physical, psychological, and energetic transformations resulting from these blessings, for which I remain grateful. My ability to cope with subtle energy awareness was greatly assisted by many years of Jungian analysis. For these reasons, I am moved to increase my understanding of the relationship between Kundalini rising and analytical psychology by creating a more comprehensive dialogue between these two disciplines. Increasing my understanding and sharing that understanding with other spiritual seekers are my reasons for pursuing this study. Research Questions My attempt to build a more integral bridge between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga is guided by the following questions.
I note these awakening experiences to suggest a powerful, personal transference to my topic, not to suggest that the depth of my practice has made me an expert in tantric Buddhism or Kundalini yoga. I approach these disciplines as a student attempting to become better informed.
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6 1. How does personal transformation guided by analytical psychology resemble or differ from personal transformation in Kundalini yoga? 2. What controversies have been raised by Jung’s commentaries and interpretations of Kundalini yoga texts? 3. How did these controversies arise from personal, cultural, and practice perspectives? 4. Can some of these controversies be settled? 5. What insights or wisdom does each of these disciplines contribute to the other? Literature Review and Chapter Outline The literature review that follows is organized to show how texts and sources will be explored in each chapter to identify issues and set these issues in context, and to address the research questions. Chapter 2: Method. The method used in this study is primarily hermeneutic, dialogical, which means that a conversation is carried out between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga texts and sources (Palmer, 1969). “Hermeneutics,” briefly defined, is “the study of the methodological principles of interpretation and explanation; specifically: the study of the general principles of biblical interpretation” (Gove, P. B. et al., 2000). The method of this study is also informed by the integral philosophy of cultural historian Jean Gebser (1949-1953/1985). Gebser’s integral approach argues against remaining caught within a single time, place, or mode of thinking or perceiving. Instead, it simultaneously perceives, elicits, compares, and verifies themes across several modes of consciousness (archaic, magical, mythical, mental, and integral), which Gebser calls “consciousness structures.”
7 Many theoretical dissertations include only a brief method section in the first chapter. I dedicate a chapter to method because I believe that the topic I study is unusually broad as well as deep. To meet the need for breadth and depth, I employ secondary sources and personal communications with subject-matter experts for general navigation of the topic, and to provide a practice perspective. I use primary sources to ensure depth and validity of the research. The texts that inform my approach to hermeneutics are Palmer’s (1969) survey of this field, Braud and Anderson’s (1998) text on transpersonal research methods, which situates the choice of method by the extent of established knowledge already available, Clarke’s (1994) discussion of Jung’s hermeneutics in his text about Jung and Eastern thought, and Jean Gebser’s (1949-1953/1985) monumental study of Western cultural philosophy. Georg Feuerstein’s (1995) critical review of the works of Gebser help bring Gebser’s philosophy into focus. The secondary sources that have helped me navigate the broad expanse of Jung’s writings include Robert Hopcke’s (1999) A Guided Tour of the Collected Works of C. G. Jung, Marie-Louise von Franz’s (1972/1998) biography of Jung, the General Index to the Collected Works of C. G. Jung (Jung, 1979), and the electronic abstracts of Jung’s collected works (Rothberg & Clemens, 1999). My understanding of Jung’s writing about individuation is assisted by a summary chapter by Joseph Henderson7 in that author’s (1967) book on initiation. Jung’s extensive writings resemble a pond in the ocean of traditional texts that document the experiences of Kundalini yoga practitioners. My ability to find key texts is
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Henderson is a Jungian analyst and direct student of Jung.
8 indebted to several works by Georg Feuerstein (1990, 1998a, 1998b, 2000), a prolific writer and scholar of yoga philosophy, practices, and history. For example, his citations helped me locate key works by Goswami (1999), Aurobindo (1990), and White (1996). The latter is an extensive survey and hermeneutic study of tantric alchemy that reveals many links between that tradition and the alchemical texts studied by Jung. After dealing with theoretical issues of method, the chapter then addresses my personal approach to research and writing. A description of the electronic methods for text input and search is provided in Appendix A of this study for interested researchers. Chapter 3: The Kundalini seminar. This chapter reviews the Kundalini seminar itself, identifying its major themes and some of the challenges by critics of Jung’s interpretations. It starts by presenting the history of the seminar’s formation and describing the roles assumed by Jung and Hauer, with Jung acting as psychological interpreter, and Hauer as philologist. Then, the basic concepts of Kundalini yoga discussed in the seminar are systematically presented, beginning with the chakras and proceeding to Indian philosophy and yoga concepts. The interpretations by Jung and Hauer of each of these elements is reviewed, with the main emphasis on Jung. I document all of the essential themes that were discussed, such as Jung’s primarily focusing on an amplification of individuation, and the question of whether a Kundalini rising is equivalent to individuation’s descent into the unconscious. This systematic presentation is summarized in tabular form in the chapter. C. G. Jung’s interpretations of symbolism in the Kundalini seminar were compiled from stenographic notes and first published privately in 1933, in mimeograph form. That edition included corrections by Hauer and Jung (Jung, 1933; Shamdasani,
9 1996, p. xi). An abridged version was first widely published in English in the journal, Spring (Jung, 1933/1975; 1933/1976; Shamdasani, 1996, p. xi). In 1996, the notes were published in book form (Jung, 1996). Sonu Shamdasani, editor of the Kundalini seminar book, offers in his introduction a review of Jung’s writing about Kundalini yoga and the history of the seminar, itself. His review and its topics are considered in detail in Chapter 3. When I asked about the necessity of examining the original seminar notes that are reproduced in Spring, Shamdasani informed me (personal communication, September 28, 2000) that “the original mimeographed notes are identical to what is reproduced in my edition,” with the exception that Shamdasani summarized and did not include all of the Hauer lectures. His preface notes that “silent changes have been restricted to minor alterations in punctuation, spelling, and grammar” (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xii). In the same e-mail communication, Shamdasani wrote that he reproduced Hauer’s “comments when they clarified Jung's specific references to them.” With this task already accomplished by Shamdasani, I confine my study of Hauer’s material to what is presented in the Kundalini seminar book (Jung, 1996). I omit in-depth study of Hauer’s lectures to delimit the research required for this dissertation and because presentations of Kundalini yoga by actual practitioners are reviewed later, in Chapter 7, including those by Goswami (1999), and Harrigan (2000). (I did look over the lectures in their original, mimeographed form and am able to confirm Shamdasani’s comment that Hauer’s commentary is “none too enlightening”(S. Shamdasani, personal communication, September 28, 2000; Jung, 1933). My primary goal in this third chapter is to: (a) document what was said in the seminar, (b) place the lectures in context, and (c) tease out the themes needed to build a more resilient bridge between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga.
10 A classic text whose presence is embedded in this study is The Serpent Power by Sir John Woodroffe (Avalon, 1974). This book translates and sets in context Sat-CakraNirupana, the Sanskrit text on layayoga (yoga of absorption in the divine) 8 that is interpreted by Jung in his seminar. Sat-Cakra-Nirupana, “Description of and Investigation into the Six Bodily Centres” deals with the uncoiling of Kundalini Shakti,9 the subtle sheaths, three distinct levels of consciousness, imagery, and symbolism of each center of consciousness (chakra)10 aligned vertically along the spine, in terms of its petals, symbolic animals, gods, colors, and sacred sounds (Avalon, 1974). It also conveys the ultimate goal of liberation from rebirth. Another text often consulted by Jung in his study of yoga philosophy and its contemplative images was Zimmer’s (1984) Artistic Form and Yoga in the Sacred Images of India (Jung, 1996, p. 71). These two texts are referenced, but the symbolism, especially, of Sat-Cakra-Nirupana is of limited use and not readily understood by someone who is not a Kundalini yoga practitioner guided by a qualified guru. The Zimmer (1984) text is useful in cataloging symbolic elements, but these must also be grounded in practice (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, January
Layayoga is the yoga of absorption in the Absolute. This absorption unfolds through deep concentration in meditation and yogic practices that encourage the rising of Kundalini so that each element of the personal self is systematically absorbed into and transformed by the divine. Shakti is power, “the dynamic or creative principle of existence, envisioned as being feminine and personified as . . . the divine consort of Shiva,” a god who personifies “the transcendental static principle” (Feuerstein, 2000, p. 269). Chakra is the Sanskrit word for wheel, which is how some adepts (Jim May, personal communication, 1980) view the rotating subtle (suksma) layer of energy at the six power centers in the spinal channel. The chakras are also seen as padmas, or lotuses with petals (once in my personal experience) at an even subtler level of manifestation.
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11 16, 2001). For those wanting a practitioner’s detailed interpretations, I recommend Goswami’s (1999) text, Layayoga: The Definitive Guide to the Chakras and Kundalini. The Spring account of the Kundalini seminar and Jung’s other writings about Kundalini were reviewed and critiqued by H. G. Coward (1985a, 1985b). Coward’s critique that Jung performed a “rope trick” by inverting the Kundalini ascent for Westerners and “lopping off” the two highest power centers is taken up in this chapter. J. Marvin Spiegelman has in turn criticized the Coward text for misunderstanding Jung’s Kundalini teaching (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987). Spiegelman’s response to H. G. Coward and especially J. F. T. Jordens in that text is summarized in the literature review for Chapter 4, below. Spiegelman is a long-time Jungian analyst who had direct contact with Jung and has been writing about the interactive field and subtle energies of consciousness since 1965 (Spiegelman, 1992, 1996a). He has co-authored a series of books with the ecumenical goal of bringing together analytical psychology and world religions. Those relevant to this chapter are Hinduism and Jungian Psychology (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987) and Buddhism and Jungian Psychology (Spiegelman & Miyuki, 1994). The book on Hinduism includes an in-depth psychological commentary on Kundalini yoga that covers material not addressed by Jung in the Kundalini seminar, including psychological interpretations of the two major power centers in the head. That comparison is taken up in Chapter 4, “Jung and Eastern Spirituality,” as it relates to Jung’s later theoretical advances. The late Arwind Vasavada was certified as a Jungian analyst and was an advanced, native practitioner of meditation, although neither he nor Spiegelman has practiced Kundalini yoga at length (Spiegelman, 1996b). Vasavada had a long-standing dialog with Jung about yoga philosophy. The book co-authored by
12 Spiegelman and Vasavada (1987) includes an important letter by Jung to Vasavada that documents some of the reasoning behind Jung’s refusal as late as 1955 to accept yoga’s claim of enabling the individual’s realization of unity with Brahman, the Absolute or Divine Ground of existence in Indian philosophy. That letter is brought into the conversation. The book by Spiegelman and Miyuki (1994) sheds light on the transformation of character on the spiritual path and the reflection of this transformation in the Zen ox-herding pictures. I discuss elements of the imagery in those pictures because they help amplify the symbolic images in Kundalini’s transformational path through the chakras. A key linking element is a symbolic correspondence between the whitening (calcinatio) operation in alchemy, the whitening of the ox in the Zen pictures, and whitening of the elephant in the journey from the root chakra to the brow chakra. Alchemy is seen as a thread of meaning that connects individuation and Kundalini yoga. Jung noted this link when he said that Kundalini yoga involves the symbolic “sublimation of man” (Jung, 1996, p. 43). Spiegelman published an article entitled “Psychology and the Occult,” in the 1976 edition of Spring (Spiegelman, 1976), where Jung’s second two Kundalini seminar lectures were also published. Spiegelman’s inclusive definition of the psychoid nature of the archetypes in his article helps make another important link between Jung’s later theoretical innovations and Kundalini yoga. Jung’s discussion of the brow chakra in the Kundalini seminar directly anticipates his formulation of the psychoid and synchronistic elements of his later theories. Another critical perspective brought into the dialog in Chapter 7, “Kundalini Yoga,” is that of Gopi Krishna (1967, 1975), whose 1967 book includes a commentary
13 by James Hillman about Kundalini rousing. Gopi Krishna offers a strong critique of Jung’s writing and teaching about Kundalini as being solely focused on Jung’s preconceived ideas and for not understanding the ancient Kundalini texts (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xlv). However, Krishna (1975, pp. 75-76) supports Jung in warning Westerners about the dangers of Kundalini yoga practice. J. J. Clarke (1994) has written an account entitled Jung and Eastern Thought: A Dialogue with the Orient. This text examines Jung’s thinking about the East in light of disagreements between his analytical psychology and Indian philosophy, his contributions to a European understanding of Eastern spiritual traditions, and apparent shortcomings of his views. Clarke sees a connection between shortcomings he sees in Jung’s hermeneutic approach, Jung’s adherence to Western prejudices, and Jung’s refusal to meet with adept yogins when visiting India. Clarke’s commentary is brought into the conversation in several later chapters. Sonu Shamdasani (personal communication, November 20, 2000) has expressed reservations about this book in that it relies too much on secondary sources, especially the writing of Edward Said, who he believes overemphasizes the political element of West relating to East. With these reservations in mind, Shamdasani recommends the Raymond Schwab (1984) text entitled The Oriental Renaissance: Europe's Rediscovery of India and the East, 1680-1880, as a primary source for placing in context Jung’s European approach to Kundalini yoga. That text is discussed in Chapter 4, “Jung and Indian Spirituality.” Shamdasani, who is preparing an intellectual history of Jung, also offers valuable insight about Jung’s apparent refusal to meet with adepts in India. This topic is taken up in Chapter 4. Shamdasani notes that one should not underestimate the distress suffered by
14 Jung during his Indian visit when he contracted amoebic dysentery. At that time, such illnesses in a foreign land without much access to modern medicine were even more dangerous than they are today. Shamdasani adds that Jung's strong and repeated cautions were motivated in part by his experiences with patients who attempted the Kundalini yoga practice of pranayama (breath control) and came to him in distress (personal communication, November 20, 2000). Chapter 4: Jung and Indian Spirituality. In this chapter, I review Jung’s attitudes toward India, its religion, people, and culture. A study of these attitudes is essential, given his many comments that praise Eastern spirituality, yet find it ill-fitted to Western practitioners. A primary source that helps me place in context Jung’s European attitude toward India is Raymond Schwab’s (1984) study of Europe’s rediscovery of the East. A secondary source that addresses Jung’s thinking directly and relates it to his European and philosophical roots is J. J. Clarke’s (1994) study of Jung’s attitudes toward the East. In that book, Clarke explores Jung’s adherence to a European enclavism, an argument developed by Edward Said, where people of distant regions often stereotypically lump together disparate peoples, cultures, and traditions. Clarke’s (1994) examination of Jung’s philosophical roots that led him to reject the tantric claim of attaining a non-dual consciousness are also explored in this section and compared to Jung’s statement about his philosophical foundations. Shamdasani (personal communication, November 20, 2000) recommends H. G. Coward’s (1985a) book, Jung and Eastern Thought, as the preferred source on the subject. J. Marvin Spiegelman (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. i-v) endorses Coward’s book but also expresses reservations about the critique of Jung’s understanding of Eastern thought by one of Coward’s contributors, J. F. T.
15 Jordens. Spiegelman writes that Jordens misunderstands Jung’s empirical approach, which “involves a simultaneous experiencing and carrying of the opposites of objectivity and subjectivity, resolved in the conception of psychic reality, which knows its own limits” (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. ii). Coward’s book is reviewed with these comments in mind, and that Jordens and perhaps Coward may misunderstand the context of some of Jung’s interpretations. I also review extensive citations about India, yoga, and related topics throughout Jung’s collected works. Another valuable resource is Shamdasani, who says that Jung may have had more intensive contacts with Indian adepts that is widely known. Shamdasani also says that Jung’s attitude toward the “primitive” culture of India was shaped in part by a frightening and difficult bout of amoebic dysentery. He says that Jung’s dire warnings to Westerners against practicing yoga were influenced by people he treated who were in psychic distress after unsupervised practice of yogic breathing exercises (S. Shamdasani, personal communication, November 20, 2000). In all, my aim in this chapter is not to write another comprehensive review of Jung’s attitudes toward the East, but to define them adequately for a commentary about the Kundalini seminar. Chapter 5: Individuation. Individuation is Jung’s overarching term for the process of personal transformation that occurs over a lifetime. In outline form, this process includes: (a) differentiation of personal values from collective values, (b) relinquishing the grip of the persona, or mask, that many people present as a defensive selfrepresentation in social situations, (c) experiencing the activation, or constellation, of
16 personal complexes11 to realize their inherent opposition and gradually relinquish their sovereignty (Jung, 1948/1960), which was maintained by their remaining unconscious, (d) realizing the existence of a collective as well as personal unconscious by experiencing the archetypal nature of images and dramas at the core of constellated complexes, and (e) gradually diminishing identification with the ego and opening to the influence of the self, the archetype (original form) of wholeness at the core of the personality. Jung envisioned this process as typically starting at mid-life, after a person had met the culture’s demands to form an ego, become an adult, establish a career, attract a mate through instinctual processes, and raise a family. At this point in life, even people who had accomplished these goals and had not become overly fixated in their development and were capable of relating to symbols emerging in their mental processes often experience a vague lack of satisfaction. This dissatisfaction can eventuate in a mid-life identity crisis and prompt the self-exploration that starts the quest of individuation. Others experience an eruption of unconscious contents that, if contained within the analytic relationship, interpreted, amplified (related to worldwide archetypal myths and images), and worked through (by remembering origins of psychological conflicts and integrating changes into one’s life), open the way to individuation. In either situation or those including elements of both, Jung attended to the symbolic contents revealed in dreams, active imagination (where the patient is encouraged to dream the dream onward), and synchronicities (coincidences
Jung defines the complex as “the image of a certain psychic situation which is strongly accentuated emotionally and is, moreover, incompatible with the habitual attitude of consciousness.” He compares complexes to “’splinter psyches,’” and describes them as autonomous (Jung, 1948/1960, pp. 96-97). Their split-off nature implies bipolarity. Their definition as image, their autonomy, and their ability to possess the ego suggests that they have an archetypal core.
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17 apparently linked by symbolic meaning). He envisioned individuation occurring as a descent into the unconscious, similar to his own descent that started in 1913. This chapter reviews Jung’s extensive writing about individuation to characterize that construct as it evolved over many years. I employ Joseph Henderson’s review of individuation (1967) and his recent reflections on the evolution of analytical psychology (2000) as secondary sources to help organize my thinking, and I insert his comments where relevant. Robert Hopcke’s chapter on individuation (1999, pp. 63-65) helped guide me to the initial source documents in Jung’s original works. The great bulk of this chapter is derived from those works and others, including “Adaptation, Individuation, Collectivity,” (Jung, 1970/1976), where Jung first defines the concept as one of developing a consciousness independent of collective society. Then follows “Conscious, Unconscious, and Individuation,” (Jung, 1939/1959), which demonstrates maturation of the concept and recognition that the individual is a discontinuous whole, subject to fragmentary archetypal contents emerging from the unconscious. The same article includes extensive discussion of Hindu symbolism. I also consult as source material “A Study in the Process of Individuation” (Jung, 1950/1969a), where Jung examines such images as passing through fire and amplifies them primarily through alchemical symbolism. In “Concerning Mandala Symbolism” (Jung, 1950/1969b), Jung takes up circumambulation12 around the centering archetype of the self. First he interprets
Circumambulation is a process that monks typically do by wandering a labyrinth in meditation. In analytical psychology, the term refers to wandering around an archetypal element characterized by being pulled back to a complex and its unconscious contents and seemingly dealing with the same issue repeatedly. The complex may be encountered by deepening into its unconscious contents, and this is usually seen as a counterclockwise movement, (or that of the left-hand path), or by raising the contents into consciousness via a clockwise movement (the right-hand path). Some of this
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18 traditional Eastern mandalas of tantric yoga, and Buddhism. Then he interprets the dream images of his patients and himself via tantric Buddhist and Western alchemical themes. Harold Coward (1985a, 1985b) describes in detail how Eastern concepts helped Jung formulate his individuation construct. Jung’s attitudes toward the non-dual consciousness claimed by Eastern adepts is amplified by an exploration of his discussion of the achievement of Western adept, Meister Eckhart,13 in Psychological Types (Jung, 1920/1971). Next, I offer a summary of Jung’s study of alchemy as it pertains to the analytical process, the transference, and personal transformation. That summary is aided by the writing of Nathan Schwartz-Salant (1989, 1995b), today’s leading specialist on that subject. It includes references to Jung’s memoirs (1961/1989) and his alchemical writing (1946/1966, 1950/1969b, 1955-1956/1963) It is also assisted by Edward Edinger’s review of alchemical operations in his book, Anatomy of the Psyche (1985) and his (1994) lecture about Jung’s culminating alchemical work, Mysterium Coniunctionis (Jung, 1955-1956/1963). In all, the purpose of this chapter is to portray Jung’s intense transit through the individuation process and his evolution of the individuation concept, which concludes with building a resilient subtle body in the analytic relationship. The next chapter goes into a more detailed discussion of the development of subtle body, the philosopher’s stone that is the goal of alchemy.
definition is derived from Samuels, Shorter, and Plaut, A Critical Dictionary of Jungian Analysis, (1986, p. 31). Upon completing this chapter, I realize why a dream figure suggested I study Eckhart’s achievement, even though I was previously unfamiliar with Eckhart.
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19 Chapter 6: Subtle body. Here, I present the development of subtle body beliefs from their inception to their empirical formulation by Jung as psychological realities. I begin with a discussion of the birth of the human imagination and the manifestation of early shamanic practices. Then I trace the progression of subtle body concepts of soul and spirit in the mythic, mental, and integral consciousness structures of Jean Gebser (19491953/1985). This leads to a review of Jung’s teachings about subtle body, exploring all citations in his collected works about subtle body and related terms, such as corpus subtile, and corpus spiritus. Throughout the chapter, I compare various subtle body doctrines to those of Kundalini yoga. There are many uses of the term subtle body in analytical psychology. Some of the terms I explore include the following: (a) Jung’s somatic unconscious, which he also designates the physiological unconscious and the subtle body, describes a realm where matter and psyche meet and become interlocked (Jung, 1973-1975, p. 44; 1988, p. 441; Spiegelman, 1992, 1996a; Schwartz-Salant, 1995a, 1995b, 1998), and interprets it as equivalent to the Chinese term, kuei (Jung, 1988, pp. 440, 442); (b) the interactive field in analysis (Jung, 1946/1966, pp. 176-177; 1988, pp. 1321, 1324-1325; Spiegelman, 1996a; Schwartz-Salant, 1989, 1998); (c) in a more focused way, the interactive third in analysis imaginally and symbolically perceived (Jung, 1946/1966; Schwartz-Salant, 1989, 1998); (d) the subtle body in alchemy (Jung, 1988, pp. 1321, 1324-1325; 1955-1956/1970; Schwartz-Salant, 1998); (e) subtle body as an intermediate and linking level of consciousness (or soul) between body and spirit (Jung, 1988, p. 441, Gebser, 19491953/1985); (f) the Hindu subtle body system of chakras, channels, and sheaths as discussed by Jung (1996) and Harrigan (2000); (g) subtle body as a potentially
20 measurable energy field (Jung, 1973-1975, p. 394; Hunt, 1996; Korotkov, 1999); and (h) subtle body as a concept related to Einstein’s relativity formula, which would formulate subtle body as partly extraspatial and extratemporal and part of a four- or multidimensional space-time continuum in the sense of being a psychoid and synchronistic phenomenon (Jung, 1973-1975, p. 522; Spiegelman, 1976, 1996a). Other subtle body terms explored throughout Jung’s collected works and his seminar on Nietzsche’s Zarathustra (Jung, 1988) include corpus and its modifying terms astrale, spiritus, celeste, glorificationis, incorruptible, mysticum; also body and its modifying terms: breath, diamond, heavenly, inner, invisible, mystical, pneumatic, spirit-, and resurrected. Related terms and concepts that are reviewed include: soul, spirit, the body as fourth, anima as ligamentum corpus et spiritus, and transformation of the subtle body. A thorough exploration of these terms and concepts related to subtle body helps to flesh out and place in context Jung’s observations, intuitions, and speculations about the realms of consciousness extending from the spiritual Absolute to solid matter. In addition, I draw parallels between the discussions of subtle body phenomena in analytical psychology and those in psychoanalysis (Bleandonu, 1994; Klein, 1946/1975; Samuels, 1985; Schwartz-Salant, 1989, 1995a, 1998; Spiegelman, 1996a). I also bring in parallels between Reichian therapy and the subtle body of Kundalini yoga (Spiegelman, 1992). The chapter concludes by offering further context via brief overviews of subtle body beliefs in Islamic mysticism and Kabbalah (Corbin, 1977, 1986; Halevi, 1979; Spiegelman, 1996b).
21 Chapter 7: Kundalini yoga. In this chapter, the ancient tradition of Kundalini yoga is explored within its cultural-historical perspective. The basic Kundalini yoga concepts discussed in Jung’s seminar are discussed in the context of traditional teachings and texts and as understood by contemporary practitioners An essential text for presenting Kundalini yoga within its living tradition is Kundalini Vidya: The Science of Spiritual Transformation, by Joan Shivarpita Harrigan (2000), the reader of this dissertation. Harrigan occupies a unique position in bringing practical Kundalini yoga teachings to the West. She is a psychologist and advanced yoga practitioner who has been initiated to transmit a 500-year-old traditional lineage of Kundalini yoga. Harrigan notes that Sat-Cakra-Nirupana is not a universal description of the Kundalini awakening process. Instead, it describes a composite of all of the experiences possible in sushumna nadi.14 No one would actually have all of those experiences because Kundalini chooses Herself what manifestation a person is going to have. So, people will have a few of the ones that are mentioned as possibilities (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, January 16, 2001). A valuable text about Kundalini awakening that brings together Indian tradition and the experiences of non-Indian practitioners is Energies of Transformation: A Guide to the Kundalini Process, by Bonnie Greenwell (1990). Like Joan Harrigan, Greenwell is a psychologist and Western practitioner of Kundalini yoga. Two authors have been especially helpful in describing the history of Kundalini yoga in its native culture. Georg Feuerstein writes prolifically about all yoga traditions. His books, Tantra: The Path of Ecstasy (1998a) and The Yoga Tradition: Its History,
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A nadi is a path of subtle energy flow.
22 Literature, Philosophy and Practice, (1998b), offer an excellent overview of basic yoga concepts, different yoga traditions, and their histories. Feuerstein also wrote the Encyclopedic Dictionary of Yoga, (1990), and updated that work, which became The Shambhala Encylopedia of Yoga (2000). The first of these books led me to the authoritative text by Goswami. Both of these works have helped me define yoga terminology. They include extended discussions of related concepts and themes. David Gordon White (1996) has undertaken the daunting task of studying the alchemical traditions of Kundalini yoga. White is not a yoga practitioner, but he is a Sanskrit scholar who characterizes his research as a hermeneutic endeavor. His book helps identify links between European and Indian alchemy (as well as Chinese and Tibetan Buddhist alchemy that will not be covered in this study). Shamdasani (1996) recommends History of the Tantric Religion by Bhattacharyya (1999), which I employ as a source because it is an invaluable study of the cultural/historical background of this living tradition, its terminology, and practices. The section on Kundalini yoga proper ends with a review of texts useful in more in-depth research. These are The Serpent Power (Avalon, 1974), which includes the traditional text, Sat-Cakra-Nirupana, that is addressed by Jung and Hauer in their seminar. Jung (1996) made extensive use of the commentary of the translator, Sir John Woodroffe, writing under the pseudonym of Arthur Avalon. Another text that served as a source for Jung and Hauer was Artistic Form and Yoga in the Sacred Images of India by Zimmer (1926/1984). The practices and philosophy of Kundalini yoga, also known as layayoga, are presented in detail and with great clarity by the adept, S. S. Goswami (1999). His book
23 was intended as an authoritative guide to layayoga and cites passages that he personally translated from 283 traditional scriptures to support each basic principle or phenomenon. Several other texts already cited in the chapter are reviewed, with recommendations for more in-depth reading. The chapter concludes by noting the parallels between Kundalini yoga, Tibetan Buddhism, and Chinese Taoism. Chapter 8: Findings. The final chapter begins with a brief review of the first seven chapters to help create context. I then summarizes findings, highlighting areas of agreement as well as differences between Jung’s analytical psychology and the Kundalini yoga tradition. I address clinical issues of Kundalini awakening and subtle body interaction. I also identify areas that have not been settled by my research. Some of the themes explored in this chapter include (1) comparisons of the preliminary and ultimate aims of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga; (2) progression toward more intensive and inclusive consciousness; (3) the necessity of living transmission in both analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga; and (4) the approach to non-dual consciousness. This chapter also includes a brief review of texts that describe the current state of parapsychological research and instrumentation for measuring subtle body transformation. This brief review is included to suggest that Jung’s theories are relevant and applicable both within and beyond the field of analytical psychology. The findings reported by these texts support and extend Jung’s insights and theories regarding subtle
24 body, synchronicity, and the psychoid15 unconscious, suggesting links between his work and contemporary science and parapsychology. Texts that report measurement of subtle body phenomena and their transformations are those by Motoyama (1981), Hunt (1996), and Korotkov (1999). I also introduce a theory by Hameroff and Penrose (1998) that microscopic tubules in the brain step down archetypal fields into the time/space continuum. The chapter then identifies some possible future directions of study. For example, the findings in this study have implications for a clinical issue that is the subject of current debate—Ken Wilber’s assertion that Jung confuses the regression to pre-symbolic unity with the mother with the ascent toward unity with the Absolute. This assertion is known as the pre-trans fallacy (Wilber, 1990; Walsh & Vaughn, 1996). The pre-trans fallacy is questioned by Washburn (1994, 1995), who supports Jung’s view that regression is necessary in the service of transcendence. The ascent of Kundalini to the upper ajna16 center (makara point) is reported by practitioners such as J. S. Harrigan (personal communication, October 21, 2000 and January 16, 2001) to precipitate a thorough psychological unloading, in which Kundalini progressively constellates and dissolves psychological processes without the need for intentional introspection. This process suggests a both/and answer to the pre-trans controversy, where one can transcend through an ascent toward spirituality without resorting to endless psycho-archeology. However, such transcendence cannot occur without the activation of psychological The psychoid unconscious was Jung’s term for a union or undifferentiated identity between spirit and matter that may extend beyond even these two ends of a conceptual spectrum of reality (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, December 5, 2000).
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25 complexes and requires the ego strength to withstand and dis-identify from the impulses, images, and affects that vividly present themselves. It seems to this author that the ego strength and detachment required to prevent possession by these constellated complexes are enhanced in both Jungian practice and tantric meditation. I conclude by presenting a working model of subtle energy transformation that takes into account the instrumental techniques described earlier in the chapter, and relates these to the insights of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga.
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The ajna chakra is located at the brow.
26 Chapter 2 Method This study poses the significant challenge of comparing two disciplines that are so extensive that their texts cannot be completely read nor their teachings absorbed within the 2 years permitted, and probably not within a lifetime. To complicate matters, the texts of these disciplines document the experiences of adepts in each field (C. G. Jung and the gurus who wrote Kundalini yoga scriptures) that are, in most instances, beyond my personal experience. I must acknowledge similar limitations in researching subtle energy processes across many cultures. My review of such texts outside of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga and of related scientific paradigms must be limited to offering a contextual overview. Does this combination of vast disciplines, voluminous texts, and the exceptional consciousness of their authors prevent a valid consideration of the research questions? Not at all. These are just the conditions one faces when surveying new horizons at the beginning of a quest. How does one design such a study to satisfy the accepted standards of academia and of each discipline? This method chapter addresses the challenge of achieving both validity and context. It explores the research methods of the two central disciplines being considered, analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga, as well as those of academia. The choice of method is driven by the nature of the material being studied. It addresses the use of primary and secondary sources, and cites reasons for consulting subject-matter experts. It describes the traditional academic discipline of hermeneutics that is applied to this study. Then it presents relevant parts of the integral philosophy of cultural historian Jean Gebser (1949-1953/1985), who addresses the limitations of rational methods and proposes an
27 orientation of these perspectives. His approach combines disciplined thinking with personal experience, and thus concurs with the methods of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga. The chapter then addresses my personal approach to research and writing. Two descriptions of creativity have helped me manage that process to make the writing process less arduous. This chapter concludes with a description of methods and tools I use for electronic document search and retrieval, and word-crafting. Selecting a Method My literature review shows a lack of models that bring together phenomena of subtle body structure and function as described in traditional tantric texts with Jung’s individuation process. This indicates a lack of existing theory, positioning my study in the area of theory-building. Therefore, I adopt the hermeneutic thematic method as recommended by William Braud because it addresses the theoretical question of explanation, such as “How can we conceptualize X?” (Braud & Anderson, 1998, pp. 38– 41). Braud writes that the risks of qualitative methods “are uncertainties about the validity of interpretations and the possibility of empirically empty generalizations, or self-consistent and seemingly valid theories or models that can be tested and possibly be falsified only with great difficulty” (Braud & Anderson, 1998, pp. 38–41). I am influenced by the quantitative, correlational and field study approaches described by Braud (Braud & Anderson, 1998, pp. 38–41) because the texts being investigated appear to describe similar phenomena. The field study approach is relevant in that I gather large quantities of data that characterize the cultural norms that form the
28 context of each spiritual or psychological discipline being studied. My use of computer text-retrieval software (discussed below) assists greatly in the correlation and indexing processes. It turns out that the Kundalini yoga tradition, itself, prescribes its own tests of validity. Joan Harrigan writes that this tradition is “based in scripture, oral tradition, individual guidance, expert training, case study, and direct spiritual experience” (Harrigan, 2000, p. 7). The scripture and case study elements ground one’s quest in facts, as do the oral teachings, which translate the symbolic language of scriptures into pragmatic practice instructions. Direct experience validates the teachings within the laboratory of one’s person, and correlation is conducted, though not quantified, across scripture, oral teaching and guidance, and case study. With expert training, the teacher explains and demonstrates. Individual guidance involves the teacher giving practices for apprentices to do in order to have their own experience and develop spiritually (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, January 12, 2001). An element that enhances the validity of this study is my personal experience of analytical psychology. This experience includes more than 8 years of Jungian analysis. Analytical psychology, itself an oral tradition, requires that one experience the process and not simply speculate about its texts. Individuation, as the path of analytical psychology, subsumes a dis-identification from collective values that would otherwise distort one’s interpretations. At the same time, Jung’s acknowledgement of the psychic basis of experience explodes the illusion of attempting to claim objectivity when assessing psyche via one’s own psychic nature, which he concludes is always partially unconscious (Jung, 1946/1960, pp. 187-188).
29 This study also benefits from an evaluation of my spiritual, psychological, and physical histories within the Kundalini yoga tradition by Joan Harrigan and Swami Chandrasekharanand Saraswati. (My Kundalini rising was probably influenced by initiations by H. H. Gyalwa Karmapa XVI in the late 1970s.) Thus, I correlate my personal experiences with the living presence and texts of these two traditions. Notwithstanding the analytic experience, initiations, and evaluation, I acknowledge my inevitable personal biases and blind spots. I further correlate my findings by discussing my topic with subject-matter experts and consulting secondary sources to identify relevant opinions and additional sources. For example, Spiegelman and Schwartz-Salant each advise that I consider Jung’s statements in the Kundalini seminar to represent his views in 1932, while making sure I include his later theoretical insights when attempting to build a more resilient bridge between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, April 20, 2000; N. Schwartz-Salant, personal communication, January 16, 2000). Also, reading Feuerstein’s book on tantra (1998a) tells me that the theme of duality versus non-duality is not only an item of controversy between Jung and tantric texts but is also a matter of dispute among different schools of yoga. This process of consulting experts and secondary sources infuses my thinking with the context of others who have spent years considering the subject matter of this study and helps me avoid being flooded by an inchoate mass of details. In the academic research tradition, I consult primary sources to ensure sufficient validity of the findings.
30 Hermeneutics as Method and Philosophy The term, hermeneutics, originates in the Greek word for interpretation and invokes the name of the god, Hermes, who “is associated with the function of transmuting what is beyond human understanding into a form that human intelligence can grasp” (Palmer, 1969, p. 13). According to Palmer, “we understand something by comparing it to something we already know” (p. 87). In Gadamer’s dialectical hermeneutics, one also explores what is not said in a text, and revisits the question that motivated its creation in an open spirit of not knowing (Palmer, 1969). The notion of method, itself, has come under the scrutiny of such philosophers as Heidegger and Gadamer, both of whom make convincing arguments that method implies an illusory, Cartesian separation between the subject of study and the researcher, who employs a methodological set of tools to dissect the material being studied. Instead, Gadamer suggests that hermeneutics is a form of dialog. This is a profound departure from biblical philology, which attempted to develop methods for objectively interpreting text. Palmer demonstrates through his presentation of the hermeneutics of Dilthey, Heidegger, and Gadamer that this discipline is essentially phenomenological. Thus “real questioning, then, presupposes openness–i.e., the answer is unknown–and at the same time it necessarily specifies boundaries” (Palmer, 1969). “According to Gadamer, there is only one way to find the right question and that is through immersion in the subject itself” (Palmer, 1969, p. 199). In this sense, hermeneutics is a descriptive, postmodern discipline that balances recognition of being in the world, that acknowledges intentionality, and that sets aside presuppositions while also respecting historical context.
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The historical element of hermeneutics is called “historicality,” a term that means “a sense of immersion in history.” This immersion suggests that one’s hermeneutic horizon reflects one’s linguistic and experiential position in history. The text being interrogated reflects not only the author’s historical lifeworld; it relates to the researcher’s historical horizon and heritage. Contemplation of the author’s historical context is a worthy pursuit to be balanced with the realization that, according to Gadamer, one cannot resurrect the past (Palmer, 1969). Transcending the Limitations of Perspective Although all of the above arguments justify conducting research to meet the standards of academia and two disciplines of personal transformation, a traditional academic steeped in the scientific method might too easily discard the findings of this study because too many of the experiences described here are of an irrational or arational17 nature. How can someone who lacks personal or spiritual experience of either discipline be shown that the construction of this document is not wholly speculative? Nathan Schwartz-Salant (personal communication, January 16, 2000) recommends that I approach this study via the philosophy of Jean Gebser, which demonstrates the inevitable limitations of such a rational, scientific perspective, or of any perspective at all. He also emphasizes the importance of one’s personal consciousness in the present moment. Gebser (1949-1953/1985) explicitly and exhaustively documents the origins of thinking and its limitations. He sees thinking and all human modes of consciousness
This is a term used by Gebser (1949-1953/1985) to indicate that which is experienced with no considerations of rationality, a word that is rooted in the “ratio” of perspectival measurement and numerical comparison.
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32 existing in potential outside time and space via the Itself, a transpersonal construct similar to Jung’s self. Thinking, along with other “structures of consciousness,” (archaic, magic, mythic, mental, integral) break through in an intensification of consciousness, and humanity then becomes deficient or corrupt in carrying a consciousness structure to its absurd limits. For example, Gebser documents thinking from its emergence as a realization of spatiality to its deficient form in which we become so focused on measuring that we distance ourselves from lived experience. In Gebser’s cultural philosophy, thinking emerged in Greek civilization in a murderous revolt against the matriarchy. He writes that thinking emerged with a “wrath or anger [that] bursts the confines of community and clan, to the extent that it manifests the ‘hero’ in the individual and spurs him on toward further individuation, self-assertion, and consequently ego-emergence” (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 71). Gebser asserts that the culmination of thinking occurred with Leonardo da Vinci’s full formulation of linear perspective geometry in Renaissance Italy following Brunelleschi’s first successful attempts at linear perspective drawing. Briefly summarized, linear perspective drawing places a grid between the object being viewed and the subject, whose eye is stationed at a fixed point behind the grid. This procedure creates an illusion of separation between subject and object, a development that inevitably led to the scientific illusion of objectivity that envisions experience within a disembodied, mechanistic construct that is poetically described by Romanyshyn (1989). The limitations Gebser sees in the mental/rational consciousness is this very disembodiment, which splits off human experience, and with it, one’s ability to live and transparently experience via integral consciousness the cumulative consciousness
33 structures that have emerged throughout human history. Gebser (1949-1953/1985) describes the identifiable moments in human history where these consciousness structures emerged. His assessment of these historical moments is reviewed and usefully modified by Feuerstein (1995). The consciousness structures roughly correspond with the stages of consciousness documented in such human developmental theories as that of Daniel Stern (1985), but Gebser cautions against reducing these structures to a time of inception because he envisions them as being ever-present outside of measured time. Gebser’s integral consciousness structure is the latest to manifest. He documents its emergence over recent centuries. Integral consciousness offers an alternative and extension to the endless opposition generated by mental synthesis—where opposites are transcended to achieve temporary unities that again generate opposition to be transcended. The effect is like a dog chasing its tail. The integral extension to synthesis is synairesis, a realization of relationships among multiple entities, independent of time, and thus outside the linear perspective framework that is equivalent to a single snapshot that freezes life in its tracks. Feuerstein (1995, pp. 197-198) characterizes Gebser’s synairesis as being “grounded in the inclusion of the observer into the process of perception and reality appraisal.” The integral consciousness structure includes the observer and transforms dialectic between two entities, resolved by a transcendent third, into a conversation among multiple entities. The relevance of Gebser’s philosophy to this study is its demonstration of the limitation of scientific perspectival thinking as being able to prove or disprove abstract hypotheses—as long as one accepts the subject/object separation that has itself been proven anomalous in modern physics (Friedman, 1994). Perspectival thinking would
34 examine Jung’s recorded words during his Kundalini seminar in an attempt to prove or disprove them. Such a method would separate these statements from the man and his later theoretical contributions. It would also ignore as anecdotal the corresponding experiences of Kundalini yoga practitioners reported over thousands of years because these have not been produced within a controlled experimental procedure. Like analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga, Gebser’s philosophy confirms that truths are verified in lived experience, and are only proven within limited contexts. To live these [consciousness] structures together, commensurate with their respective degrees of conscious awareness, is to approach an integrated, integral life. And there can be no doubt that our knowledge of the particular structure from which a specific event, reaction, attitude, or judgement originates will be of aid in clarifying our lives. But it must be a clarity aware of the obscure, and a wakefulness that knows of somnolence, for these are prerequisites demanded by the transparency of the integral structure. (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 272) Gebser, himself, can be credited with a living realization of his own philosophy. Georg Feuerstein, a friend of Gebser, notes that Gebser privately informed him about his achievement of satori,18 although Feuerstein (1995, p. 172) writes that Gebser was only marginally aware of continuous satori, known in Hindu parlance as sahaja-samadhi, or perpetual enlightenment characteristic of jivan-mukti, or “‘liberation in life.’”
In a letter to Feuerstein, dated May 10, 1971, Gebser described his satori experience: “It was sober, on the one hand happening with crystal clarity in everyday life, which I perceived and to which I reacted ‘normally,’ and on the other hand and simultaneously being a transfiguration and irradiation of the indescribable, unearthly, transparent ‘Light’—no ecstasy, no emotion, but a spiritual clarity, a quiet jubilation, a knowledge of invulnerability, a primal trust . . . [sic] Since Sarnath I am as if recast, inwardly, since then everything is in its proper place—and it continues to take effect and is in a way an irradiation that is always present and at hand.” Gebser asked Feuerstein to keep this disclosure private and even destroy the letter. Feuerstein published it well after Gebser’s death, seeing this satori as no longer being a skeleton in the closet that could undermine the legitimacy of Gebser’s published works (Feuerstein, 1995, pp. 173-174). I include this information because to me it confirms the validity of his work.
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35 I offer a final note regarding Gebser’s comments about Jung’s analytical psychology. Gebser credits Jung for attempting to overcome dualism and “the threedimensional paternal world, even though the overcoming is couched in the ambivalent expression befitting the psyche . . . . [The idea that] Jung as a psychologist remains particularly attached to the psychic shows up the particular inherent weakness of his discipline—namely, the lack of any spiritual moment” (1949-1953/1985, pp. 397-399). In other words, Gebser criticizes Jung for favoring the mythic structure of consciousness and for disavowing metaphysical claims. The reason for Jung’s avoidance of metaphysics is self-evident in his attempt to ensure an adequate reception of analytical psychology in medical circles. If I read Gebser’s critique aperspectivally, he appropriately reflects the written opinions of the Jung he knew in that Jung avoided stating any metaphysical allegiance and insisted that the consciousness of any human being cannot be identical with that of the Absolute (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 192-193). He might have changed his critique somewhat had he seen Jung’s distinctly aperspectival and time-free synchronicity theory that was published almost simultaneously (Jung, 1952/1960) with Gebser’s (1949-1953) magnum opus, or the statements of spiritual conviction and visions made by Jung in his posthumously published memoirs (Jung, 1961/1989). In the spirit of the integral consciousness present in texts and teachings of all three disciplines, I take up the experience of writing this study as a living, creative process that includes all of the consciousness modalities I can bring to bear. Writing as a Creative Learning Process I experience the research and writing of a hermeneutic, theoretical dissertation as a heuristic (learning) process. I take pleasure in this process because it immerses me in
36 two disciplines that vitally interest me. An undertaking as large as this one would be arduously stressful if I did not have an adequate understanding of the creative process, itself. The writings of Moustakas and Vargiu describe this process in a manner that corresponds with my experience and helps me contain its Mercurial nature. Moustakas (1990) describes heuristic (learning) cycles unfolding in a series of stages: initial engagement, immersion, incubation, illumination, explication, creative synthesis, and validation. Vargiu (1977) employs an energy field model that is experience-near to describe a similar creative process, which he sees unfolding in stages of preparation, frustration, incubation, illumination, elaboration. I ask the reader to extend the discussion of Vargiu’s model by imagining his energy fields as aperspectival and time-free, and his synthesis as synairesis. I maintain Vargiu’s perspectival language to present his description as it was written. Vargiu’s (1977) preparation stage corresponds with Moustakas’s initial engagement and immersion stages of creativity where one engages the material and becomes thoroughly immersed in it. However, before the material one has absorbed has had a chance to incubate, one has not found how it fits together in a way that answers the research questions. According to Vargiu, “the first stage of the creative process can be thought of as if we were manipulating mental elements . . . in order to arrive at a solution that fits our problem.” (Here I translate problem as question.) “Yet we may find that, using this kind of mental activity, we are not able to arrive at the solution we need” (p. 19). Vargiu attributes the feelings of difficulty encountered in the early stages to the arduousness of worthwhile creative tasks. This emotional difficulty marks the onset of the stage of frustration.
37 In the frustration stage, insufficient mental tension may yield superficial results. Holding the point of tension too long can produce excessive turbulence in the creative field or force some of the themes into shapes that are too rigid to be modified by unconscious processes. Vargiu writes that “fortunately, in each individual there is a broad range of creative tension between these two extremes where effective and valuable creative work can be done” (1977, pp. 37-38). He suggests that “stopping is especially indicated when fatigue results in progressively diminishing mental attention, and the work becomes increasingly difficult without much happening” (p. 38). He notes that “sometimes the simple inner act of deciding to stop will immediately precipitate the longawaited solution” (p. 38). Creative incubation is usually needed for solving large problems but may not be needed for lesser issues. Vargiu writes that during incubation, “the influence of a mysterious principle suddenly pervades the elements and images within our mind . . . . Acting simultaneously on all these elements, it combines them in a pattern which is often of meaningful harmony, great simplicity, and considerable beauty” (p. 21). He concludes that “such a principle is an energy field” (p. 21). He uses magnetic and acoustic energy fields as metaphors to describe the organizing activities of our mental and emotional fields interacting with a universal “creative field.” In Vargiu’s (1977) magnetic field metaphor, the iron filings in our mental field start to overcome inertia so they can begin to align with forms implicit in the larger magnetic (creative) field. One allows the creative field to resonate with the concepts one has acquired. Once this begins to happen, a feeling of rightness may arise, an aesthetic
38 recognition of the harmony and elegance of the emerging synthesis. One experiences an interplay between conceptual and affective elements of consciousness. Vargiu differentiates between the emotional frustration and fatigue inherent in the creative process, and personal emotional resistance that may require management. The latter he calls “secondary feelings.” These can include self-blame and doubt if one expects the creative process to be easy. One may choose to ignore the secondary feelings or disidentify with them. If stuck, one may ask the unconscious for an image of the negative feelings and work them through at a time set aside from creative efforts. These moves can help maintain the creative tension long enough to incubate a sufficiently deep and creative synthesis. Vargiu, a proponent of psychosynthesis, reflects the influence of Jung’s individuation construct by extending his field analogy to account for “divine discontent” when an individual responds to the creative field faster than the collective, and senses the dissonance between inner imagery and the status quo (Vargiu, 1977). The dissertation discipline, itself, supplies the validation stage described by Moustakas (1990) in addition to the Vargiu stages of creativity. This discipline is provided by the counsel and review of the dissertation committee members. Deciphering Specialized Language Another essential element of my method is to consult the many specialized and unabridged dictionaries I have collected over the years to avoid disrupting my concentration when reading works written in the extensive vocabularies of authors like Jung and Gebser. Having these works at hand helps me immediately decipher key terms and trace their etymologies without losing my train of thought.
39 Conclusion In this chapter, I describe the four research methods that are most applicable to this work, including hermeneutics, and the methods of analytical psychology, Kundalini yoga, and Gebser’s integral philosophy. I discuss the use of secondary sources and the help of subject-matter experts in navigating vast areas of knowledge. I acknowledge the necessity of consulting primary source material to ensure validity, and attending to my own lived experience to confirm my findings and ease the creative process. Researchers who want to incorporate electronic methods to ease the research and writing processes may want to see Appendix A of this study, which documents my use of electronic tools.
40 Chapter 3 The Kundalini Seminar Chapter Overview Kundalini yoga is an ancient tradition whose scriptures include an extensive, esoteric terminology. In his seminar, Jung interpreted some of the concepts and philosophy of Kundalini yoga, but his primary goal was to give a psychological commentary on individuation, using Kundalini yoga symbols to amplify his individuation concept. He left the task of presenting Kundalini yoga and Indian philosophy to his collaborator, J. W. Hauer. The thread of Jung’s psychological commentary in the Kundalini seminar easily gets lost if one reads his remarks in the order in which they are presented. His discussion is wide-ranging and covers many themes. These include: (a) interpretations of Indian philosophical terms, (b) a comparison between Indian and Western worldviews, (c) differences he sees in the paths of psychological transformation for members of these two cultures, (d) amplification of the symbols being interpreted through the myths of other cultures, and (e) dire warnings to Westerners against adopting yoga practice. I separate these threads of discussion and present them sequentially to make them easier to absorb. This chapter includes numerous extended quotes to adequately document what was said by Jung and Hauer during these seminars as a basis for comparison in later chapters. I begin by establishing the context of the seminar, including its history and goals. Then I present the contents of the seminar in dialog with critics and commentators who
41 identify and clarify relevant issues. Two tables19 help the reader navigate the terminology and phenomena of Kundalini and individuation. Seminar History and Goals C. G. Jung enjoyed a life-long interest in Indian spirituality, which strongly influenced his analytical psychology (Coward, 1985a; Clarke, 1994, p. 58; von Franz, 1972/1998; Jung, 1961/1989, p. 17). That interest began very early in life, as seen in his memoirs: I remember a time when I could not yet read, but pestered my mother to read aloud to me out of the Orbis Pictus, an old, richly illustrated children’s book, which contained an account of exotic religions . . . . There were illustrations of Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva which I found an inexhaustible source of interest. My mother later told me that I always returned to these pictures. Whenever I did so, I had an obscure feeling of their affinity with my ‘original revelation’ [a dream of an underground phallic god]20—which I never spoke of to anyone. (Jung 1961/1989, p. 17) Jung’s extensive teachings about world symbolism helped introduce many people to yoga philosophy. However, his discussion of yoga is of a different type than the translations of other scholars of his time, such as John Woodroffe (a.k.a. Arthur Avalon), Jakob Wilhelm Hauer, his collaborator in the Kundalini seminar, or his friends, Richard Wilhelm, and Heinrich Zimmer. These authors most often21 focus their efforts on creating
To note a time-saving methodological element, the information is first gathered in a master table created in an electronic spreadsheet. This makes it easy to excerpt parts of the table to be inserted in running text. The inserted comment is my own and cites Jung’s first remembered dream (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 11-12). Jung ended his association with Hauer in 1938 when their views diverged over Hauer’s politico-religious views of Nazi Germany. Shamdasani writes that in 1933, Hauer founded the German Faith Movement in an attempt to replace “the ‘alien’ Semitic spirit of Christianity” (Shamdasani, 1996, pp. xli-xlii).
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42 authentic translations of eastern texts and concepts. Jung’s contrasting approach uses yoga philosophy as one of many catalysts and provisional maps for the journey of individuation. His interpretation of yoga flows from an empirical approach that sees life experience, considered symbolically,22 as the paramount measure of truth. In Chapter 4, “Jung and Indian Spirituality,” and Chapter 7, “Kundalini Yoga,” I show that this empirical approach is not incompatible with that of the yoga tradition but lacks some safeguards found in authentic yogic teaching. In a related critique, J. J. Clarke (1994) finds fault with some aspects of Jung’s hermeneutic method when exploring and discussing Asian spirituality. Many authors criticize the discussion of yoga concepts throughout Jung’s collected works and seminars. Some of these critiques are reviewed later in this chapter and include many relevant concerns. Other critiques and commentaries about Jung’s interpretations of Asian spirituality and culture throughout his writings and teachings appear in later chapters. During his Kundalini seminar, Jung states directly that he is not attempting to teach Kundalini yoga as such when he says on October 12, 1932, that the yogic “picture of the world is entirely different from ours, so we can understand it only inasmuch as we
“Symbols . . . . are indistinct, metaphoric and enigmatic portrayals of psychic reality” (Samuels, Shorter, & Plaut, 1986, p. 145). Jung distinguished symbols from signs in the sense that a symbol, such as an image produced in a dream, does not merely represent a single fact but may be usefully interpreted in more than one way. His symbolic approach was a living dialog with the collective unconscious through the interpretation of dreams, synchronicities, and active imagination, where he and his patients would imagine a dream continuing (Jung, 1957/1960; Miller, 1999). Jungian analysands typically pursue active imagination as a solitary meditation in which they express symbolic contents through drawing, painting, sculpting, or other artistic creation. Jung used his knowledge of world mythology to amplify (extend and interpret) the meanings of spontaneously arising symbols.
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43 try to understand it in our own terms. Therefore, I make the attempt to approach the thing from the psychological point of view” (Jung, 1996, pp. 19-20). In other words, he explores Kundalini yoga through his model of psychological transformation. The umbrella term he uses for this process is individuation, a process explored in detail in Chapter 5. In these lectures, Jung is careful to maintain a distance from Kundalini yoga, issuing warnings to his students who might want to adopt its practices. In these matters one needs a great deal of psychology in order to make it palatable to the Western mind. If we do not try hard and dare to commit many errors in assimilating it to our Western mentality, we simply get poisoned. For these symbols have a terribly clinging tendency. They catch the unconscious somehow and cling to us. But they are a foreign body in our system—corpus alienum—and they inhibit the natural growth and development of our own psychology. It is like a secondary growth or a poison. Therefore one has to make almost heroic attempts to master these things, to do something against those symbols in order to deprive them of their influence. Perhaps you cannot fully realize what I say, but take it as a hypothesis. It is more than a hypothesis, it is even a truth. I have seen too often how dangerous their influence may be. (Jung, 1996, p. 14) Sonu Shamdasani, editor of the Kundalini seminar book (Jung, 1996), says that Jung’s strong and repeated cautions in this seminar and elsewhere were motivated in part by his experiences with patients who attempted the yogic breath exercises and came to him in distress (personal communication, November 20, 2000). Jung’s hesitation about adopting such practices is supported by his account in the seminar of treating the first patient he recognized as experiencing Kundalini process. In that case summary, Jung reports many potent and distressing symptoms accompanied by dream symbolism that puzzled him (Jung, 1996, pp. 104-106).23 While treating this
For a more extensive account of this case, see the appendix to Jung’s essay, “The Psychology of the Transference” (Jung, 1946/1966, pp. 330-337).
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44 patient, Jung obtained a copy of Sir John Woodroffe’s The Serpent Power (Avalon, 1974), which had only recently been published (Jung, 1946/1966, pp. 334-335). This book and Heinrich Zimmer’s (1926/1984) Artistic Form and Yoga in the Sacred Images of India were two of the primary texts he used to study Kundalini yoga symbolism (Shamdasani, 1996, pp. xxxiv, 71). According to Shamdasani, Jung was not alone in warning Westerners against yoga practice. Such warnings were already being given by knowledgeable Indian teachers, including Surendranath Dasgupta, who cautioned Westerners against practicing without expert supervision (1006, p. xxx). Jung’s cautions about adopting Indian spirituality have also been attributed to his holding cultural prejudices that were widespread in Europe at the time (Clarke, 1994). This question of cultural stereotyping is taken up later in this chapter and in Chapter 4, “Jung and Indian Spirituality.” The warning passage quoted above raises another issue, especially the words, “these symbols . . . inhibit the natural growth and development of our own psychology. It is like a secondary growth or a poison.” Was Jung intent on developing his psychology guided by his symbolic experience and that of his patients and thus resistant to adopting a sophisticated, foreign psychology? This possibility is also taken up later in this chapter. In his introduction to the Kundalini seminar book, Shamdasani tells us that the 1932 seminar was not Jung’s first public discussion of Kundalini yoga. He gave a lecture entitled “Indian Parallels” on October 11, 1930, which is reproduced in the Kundalini seminar book (pp. 71-78) and a second lecture that largely duplicated the first one (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xxxiv). Because it was not Jung’s first presentation on the subject,
45 Shamdasani writes that Jung’s collaboration with Hauer presented an opportunity for him to “expand rather than commence his work on this topic” (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xxxv). After the Indologist J. W. Hauer gave a lecture at the Psychological Club in Zurich on June 13, 1931, Jung invited him to present a collaborative lecture series in English and German during the following year. The seminar was planned in a dual language format to draw a larger audience because American participation had declined substantially due to the Great Depression (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xxxvii). Shamdasani’s interview of C. A. Meier, one of the seminar participants, revealed that this collaboration was deliberately planned so that Hauer would present “a scholarly philological and historical account to provide the root support for Jung’s psychological interpretationlxiv” (Jung, 1996, p. xxxiv). Jung gave four lectures, three in English, on October 12, 19, and 26. A fourth lecture was presented in German, on November 2, 1932 (p. xi) and translated by Cary F. Baynes. These lectures, and Jung’s comments in Hauer’s German lectures of October 5-8, 1932, are reproduced in the book, along with Hauer’s English lecture of October 8, 1932. As stated in Chapter 1, I follow Shamdasani’s advice and delimit the study to this source material about Jung’s Kundalini seminar lectures rather than explore the additional content of Hauer’s German lectures. Shamdasani has done readers the service of including all of the relevant Hauer discussions of yoga concepts in footnotes and a scholarly introduction (S. Shamdasani, personal communication, September 28, 2000). That introduction and footnotes throughout the book link key concepts to many sources, including Jung’s other writings and presentations.
46 The focus of this study is on Jung’s interpretations of Kundalini yoga concepts and compares his interpretations to scholarly and traditional accounts of Kundalini yoga, including some by practitioners. The words of J. W. Hauer, Jung’s collaborator, suggest that Hauer approached the topic with a subjective openness, yet they also indicate that he was not a practitioner. During the seminar, Hauer stated: I understand an inner reality only in so far as I have it within myself and am able to look at this reality that has come up into my conscious from the depth of my subconscious; or if it has come from without, it must have become absolutely living in my own conscious . . . . I freed myself to a great extent in the beginning from the Indian way of looking at things.’” (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xxxix) I conclude that Hauer was not an actual practitioner by reasoning that a disciple (chela) working under the guidance of a qualified guru would employ traditional methods first, rather than freeing himself “in the beginning from the Indian way of looking at things.” My conclusion is ratified by Hauer’s staunch contention, during his English lecture of October 8, 1932, that perhaps one person in the West (Suso), has awakened Kundalini in a higher sense, and that Westerners are not likely to be able to awaken Kundalini for another thousand years (Jung, 1996, p. 95). I make the distinction between scholar and practitioner because I myself am just becoming acquainted with the Kundalini yoga tradition. To ensure the integrity of this study, I ground my research and writing about that tradition not only in hermeneutic comparisons of text but also in the writings and advice of adept and advanced practitioners. This grounding is essential for giving Kundalini yoga an authentic and autonomous voice in its dialog with analytical psychology.
47 Seminar Contents C. G. Jung considered individuation to be the core concept of his analytical psychology (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 209). Throughout his collected works, the individuation concept evolves. For our purposes in this chapter, individuation is a process of psychological transformation that involves differentiating one’s beliefs and actions from collective norms and building a relationship with the core of one’s being. This core, which Jung called the self, is an autonomous, living presence whose guiding influence is experienced in and beyond everyday consciousness. Jung sees the self as a centering, guiding archetype (living, eternal form) of wholeness that is represented in the unknowable divine center of mandalas, which are circular pictorial representations of the whole psyche used as images for meditation (yantras) (Jung, 1950/1969b; Zimmer, 1926/1984). During the Kundalini seminar, Jung likens the self to the Indian idea of the purusa, which he defines as “a small figure that is the divine self, namely, that which is not identical with mere causality, mere nature, a mere release of energy that runs down blindly with no purposexii” (Jung, 1996, p. 39). In footnote 12, Shamdasani cites Jung’s commentary on the Patanjali Yoga Sutras, where Jung further describes the purusa as “primeval man or as the luminous man.” In the four English lectures of the Kundalini seminar, Jung discusses the process of individuation and interprets it through the imagery of the ascent of Kundalini, a divine female presence, from muladhara, the chakra or power center at the base of the spine, to ajna, the power center between the eyebrows. He interprets the Kundalini yoga imagery
48 of the chakras as symbols24 where each chakra represents a distinctive worldview. He sees the transformational journey from muladhara to ajna as a journey from mundane, worldly consciousness to a consciousness that includes full awareness of the divine. Jung sees this journey as the quest of individuation, a concept that is more fully discussed in Chapter 5. Following is a summary of the initiatory journey of individuation that Jung envisioned through Kundalini yoga symbolism of the chakras. After that summary, I present Jung’s narrative of this journey in more detail,25 and discuss some of the relevant commentaries and critiques of his interpretations. The journey of individuation begins in muladhara, the root chakra, whose element is earth, and whose consciousness is one where the ego is awake and the self is asleep. The next station in this journey is svadhisthana, where one is baptized in the unconscious, which is represented by the water element of that chakra. Jung interprets immersion in svadhisthana through the universal imagery of the sun myth, in which the sun disappears into the unconscious on a night sea journey, a journey into the underworld. On this journey, the hero confronts the Leviathan, or Great Mother, represented by the makara, an alligator-like animal symbol in that chakra. Like the sun,
Harrigan says that Jung’s interpretation of the chakras as symbols is not the Indian view, which would see the chakra pictograms, the sacred imagery traditionally ascribed to each chakra, as symbols (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, March 18, 2001). See J. Marvin Spiegelman’s detailed psychological commentary on Kundalini yoga in Spiegelman and Vasavada, 1987, pp. 27-62. In this commentary Spiegelman, a Jungian analyst, comments on Jung’s interpretations and takes up the ajna and sahasrara centers that Jung did not address. H. G. Coward (1985a, pp. 109-123) offers a briefer summary and critique of Jung’s Kundalini seminar discussion.
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49 the hero emerges from the depths of the sea at the next center, manipura, a fiery realm of jewels. After surviving the perilous descent, one is initiated into the light and heat of the passions. One identifies with God and is possessed by the passions and their oppositional tendencies, symbolized by the fire element in manipura. If one begins to differentiate oneself from the passions by thinking, the individuation process itself begins when one enters the world of the heart center, anahata. As the passions are tamed, one becomes dimly aware of the self, the purusa, at the center of anahata,26 and one learns objective love or empathy. As the influence of the self increases, one enters visuddha, the center at the throat. Visuddha is a realm of abstraction and psychical reality. It is the mode of consciousness in which Jung or another individuating person makes meaning of synchronicity and dream symbolism. Through the transcendent function, the ego’s conflict is mediated by the self, which transcends apparent opposites to enable it to choose between alternatives (Jung, 1957/1960). Beyond visuddha, one encounters the consciousness of ajna, the center between the eyebrows. Jung interprets this consciousness as the one where a person experiences the inception of unity with God because this is where the divine masculine and feminine (Shiva and Shakti) combine in Kundalini yoga and the animal symbolism disappears, suggesting that instinct is subsumed or transcended. He sees the unitary consciousness of this center and sahasrara, at the top of the head, as beyond his reach and that of his audience, and perhaps as
Joan Harrigan notes that technically, the flame of the self glows in hrit, which is to the left of anahata, the heart chakra. Hrit is not accessible from anahata but from the makara point in upper ajna, the upper brow chakra. This means it is only accessible after Kundalini Shakti has risen to upper ajna using a culminating nadi. See Chapter 7 for more detail on that level of Kundalini rising. Hrit is colloquially referred to as the heart or the sacred heart (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, March 18, 2001).
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50 metaphysically speculative on the part of yoga philosophers. His treatment of these last two centers, or lack thereof, is controversial and is addressed below. Individuation Viewed Through the Chakras
Figure 1. Muladhara chakra pictogram. Note. From The Serpent Power: The secrets of Tantric and Shaktic Yoga (facing p. 355), by A. Avalon, 1974, New York: Dover Publications. Public Domain. Muladhara. The muladhara chakra is located at the base of the spine. The symbolism of this chakra is reproduced in Figure 1, from The Serpent Power, (Avalon, 1974), which was Jung’s source for the pictorial representation of the chakra symbols. Jung summarizes the muladhara chakra’s attributes as follows: Muladhara is characterized as being the sign of the earth; the square in the center is the earth, the elephant being the carrying power, the psychical energy or the libido. Then the name muladhara, meaning the root-support, also shows that we are in the region of the roots of our existence, which would be our personal bodily
51 existence on this earth. Another very important attribute is that the gods are asleep; the linga [phallus] is a mere germ, and the Kundalini, the sleeping beauty, is the possibility of a world which has not yet come off. So that indicates a condition in which man seems to be the only active power, and the gods, or the impersonal, non-ego powers, are inefficient—they are doing practically nothing. And that is very much the situation of our modern European consciousness. (Jung, 1996, p. 23) Jung offers an experiential description of the meaning of muladhara as root support by saying: We are in our roots right in this world—when you buy your ticket from the streetcar conductor, for instance, or for the theater, or pay the waiter—that is reality as you touch it. And then the self is asleep, which means that all things concerning the gods are asleep. (Jung, 1996, p. 14) He describes muladhara as a place of “participation mystique" where "we are nonindividual," as if "we are just fish in the sea" (Jung, 1996, p. 15). Later, he adds that in muladhara, " the ego is identified with consciousness, it is caught up in this world" (p. 66). He sees the color of muladhara, which is blood red, symbolizing dark passion, (p. 17). He interprets its symbolic animal, the elephant, “as the symbol of the domesticated libido, parallel to the image of the horse with us. It means the force of consciousness, the power of will, the ability to do what one wants to do" (p. 51). Jung interprets the muladhara chakra’s location in "the lower basin" to symbolically resemble a womb and differentiates the European world of the senses and scientific empiricism from Indian consciousness by saying that "the Hindu27 would look upon our world as it is!perhaps understands his conscious world as being merely a
As people in India have regained and consolidated their national identity, they have stopped using Western terms like Hindu, a geographical term relating to the Indus River Valley. They increasingly refer to their spiritual orientation as sanatana dharma (ancient or eternal truth), the most frequently used designation, or as brahma vidya (science of the Absolute) (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, March 18, 2001).
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52 nursery" (p. 24). Here, he refers to yoga philosophy’s interpretation that the world emanates from a transcendent, divine consciousness, where grosser manifestations of being are considered illusory. This interpretation is an attempt to discuss differences via Kundalini symbolism, a teaching technique that is easily misunderstood. Jung first makes this move in Lecture 1, where Dr. Barker asks him about the apparent contradiction in Hauer’s statement that one plunges into the waters of the second chakra, svadhisthana, yet svadhisthana is located above muladhara. Jung responds: Here you touch upon something really most bewildering, for when you try to translate that material into psychological language, you reach amazing conclusions. Take the muladhara cakraxxi which seems very simple. Its psychological location is in the perineum. You assume you know all about it, but psychologically what is muladhara? You think of it as that region down below in the abdomen, having to do with sexuality28 and all sorts of unsavory things. But that is not muladhara; muladhara is something quite different. Perhaps we should look at the second cakraxxii first. The ocean with the sea monster is above in the system of the cakras, but in reality we find always that it is below in our psychology!we always descend into the unconscious. (Jung, 1996, p. 13) A few minutes later, he adds: It is a peculiar fact that in the East they put these cakras not below our feet but above. We would put muladhara above because this is our conscious world, and the next cakra would be underneath—that is our feeling because we really begin above. It is all exchanged, we begin in our conscious world, so we can say our muladhara might be, not down below in the belly, but up in the head. You see that puts everything upside-down. (p. 17) These passages and others have sparked a controversy among later readers of the seminar notes, who believe that Jung took liberties with the Kundalini system, interpreting the Kundalini ascent as a descent for Westerners. It appears, however, that with this inversion he was not attempting to interpret Kundalini rousing literally as a
In the Kundalini tradition, sexuality is associated with the second chakra, svadhisthana (Saraswati, 1996).
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53 descent, but to differentiate the paths of individuation for Indians versus Europeans. As a teaching technique, I find the attempt confusing because one cannot easily understand one new set of concepts when it is described through a reference to another novel conceptual framework. Jung has warned us in these passages that the interpretation he makes is psychological and does not attempt to accurately reflect Kundalini yoga in its own right, because he considers the foreign symbolism of Kundalini yoga to be “a foreign body in our system” that inhibits “the natural growth and development of our own psychology. It is like a secondary growth or a poison.” To fight off the tendency of these archetypal symbols to cling to the Western psyches of his students, Jung asserts that ”one needs a great deal of psychology in order to make [yoga philosophy] palatable to the Western mind” (Jung, 1996, p. 14). In the same passage, he even says that he is not convinced that Professor Hauer, the Indologist presenting the Indian teachings in their own right, would agree with his psychological interpretation. Jung gives all of these reasons for clinging to a psychological interpretation, which should place his comments in context. However, his strong warnings, rather than settling his critics, stir a further controversy by raising the question of why Jung considers India’s ancient system of personal transformation to be so dangerous to Westerners. These issues of inverting the Kundalini system for teaching purposes and warning against yoga practice are addressed later in this chapter, with the latter more fully addressed in Chapter 4. Let us return to the central thread of Jung’s Kundalini seminar presentation, which I see as a description of the path of individuation amplified by Kundalini yoga
54 symbolism.29 In his presentation of the root chakra, Jung begins with ordinary, sensory awareness where the ego is awake and the self asleep. He introduces the concept that moving from the first chakra, muladhara, to the second chakra, svadhisthana, is psychologically comparable to plunging into the waters of the unconscious and beginning a night sea journey. Individuation—establishing an identity and beliefs not driven by cultural norms!starts to become necessary when one no longer finds conventional, instinctual living a peaceful abode but instead is troubled by a dark night of the soul.
In a personal communication (November 20, 2000), Sonu Shamdasani highlighted the advanced status of Jung’s students who attended the Kundalini seminar. Their knowledge of his psychology is evident in their sophisticated questions. It may have been easier for them to follow the individuation theme underlying Jung’s presentation than for many readers of the seminar notes.
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Figure 2. Svadhisthana chakra pictogram. Note. From The Serpent Power: The secrets of Tantric and Shaktic Yoga (facing p. 365), by A. Avalon, 1974, New York: Dover Publications. Public Domain. Svadhisthana. In the svadhisthana pictogram, a menacing, whale-like creature lurks in the depths. Jung psychologically interprets svadhisthana through the sun myth and the Christian image of baptism. The sun in the afternoon is getting old and weak, and therefore he is drowned; he goes down into the Western [sic] sea, travels underneath the waters (the night sea journey), and comes up in the morning reborn in the East. So one would call the second cakra the cakra or mandala of baptism, or of rebirth, or of destruction!whatever the consequence of the baptism may be. (Jung, 1996, p. 17) The symbolic animal seen in svadhisthana is the makara, which Jung interprets as an equivalent to the Leviathan of biblical lore (Wigoder, Shalom, Viviano, & Stern, 1986,
56 p. 620 cites Job 3:8; 41:1; Psalms 74: 13-14; 104:26; Isaiah 27:1). The traditional element of svadhisthana is water. Its color is vermilion, or fiery red, which Jung interprets as the color of the rising or setting sun. He distinguishes this color from the blood red of dark passion seen in manipura (Jung, 1996, p. 17). When Jung interprets the crescent moon in the text30 of Verse 15 of Sat-Cakra-Nirupana to be female,31 he is challenged by Mrs. Sawyer, who cites professor Hauer’s interpretation that the crescent moon is always a symbol of the male god, Siva. This challenge presents Jung with an opportunity to share how he views his interpretation of Kundalini yoga through the myths of other cultures when amplifying dreams. Here, Jung says: You see a Hindu is normal when he is not in this world. Therefore if you assimilate these symbols, if you get into the Hindu mentality, you are just upsidedown, you are all wrong. They have the unconscious above, we have it below. Everything is just the opposite. The south on all our maps is below, but in the East the south is above and the north below, and east and west are exchanged. It is quite the other way round. Now the second center has all the attributes that characterize the unconscious. Therefore we may assume that the way out of our muladhara existence leads into the water. A man I know who is not in analysis has had interesting dreams representing this quite frequently and they were all identical. He found himself moving along a certain road, or a little street or path, either in a vehicle or on foot—the dream always began with such a movement—and then, to his great amazement, all these roads inevitably led into water, the second cakra. Therefore, the very first demand of a mystery cult always has been to go into water, into the baptismal fount. The way into any higher development leads through water, with the danger of being swallowed by the monster. We would say today that is not the case with the Christian baptism—there is no danger in being baptised. But if you study the beautiful mosaic pictures in the Baptistry of the Orthodox in Ravenna, (which dates from the fourth or the beginning of the fifth I note this as an interpretation of text because the pictogram of svadhisthana does not clearly show the crescent moon. For the text of Verse 15, see Jung, 1996, p. 113, or Avalon, 1974, p. 358. Sir John Woodroffe, a.k.a. Arthur Avalon, in a text that comprised one of Jung’s primary sources, interprets the crescent moon to symbolize the water element of svadhisthana chakra. In that interpretation, he does not say whether that element is considered male or female (Avalon, 1974, p. 358).
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57 century, when the baptism was still a mystery cult), you see four scenes depicted on the wall: two describe the baptism of Christ in the Jordan; and the fourth is St. Peter drowning in a lake during a storm, and the Saviour is rescuing him.xxvii Baptism is a symbolical drowning. (Jung, 1996, p. 16) In Lecture 3, Jung equates the animal symbol of this chakra with the Great Mother as follows: The greatest blessing in this world is the greatest curse in the unconscious. So the makara is just the reverse: the water elephant, the whale dragon that devours you, is the thing that has nourished and supported you hitherto—just as the benevolent mother that brought you up would become in later life a devouring mother that swallows you again. If you cannot give her up she becomes an absolutely negative factor—she supports the life of your childhood and youth, but to become adult you must leave all that, and then the mother force is against you. (Jung, 1996, p. 51) To summarize the symbolism of the svadhisthana chakra in individuation terms, it is the center of baptism where one is confronted by the unconscious and swallowed by the Leviathan, the Great Mother, to undergo the night sea journey into the underworld. In the world tradition of baptism, this part of the journey is perilous, and its outcome is by no means certain. One may drown in the unconscious. I interpret this drowning symbolism as a caution that one may be archetypally possessed and succumb to inflation. At the worst, one may experience a psychotic break if lacking sufficient ego strength (Hartmann, 1958; Kellerman & Burry, 1997, pp. 37-60) to withstand this confrontation with unconscious contents.
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Figure 3. Manipura chakra pictogram. Note. From The Serpent Power: The secrets of Tantric and Shaktic Yoga (facing p. 369), by A. Avalon, 1974, New York: Dover Publications. Public Domain. Manipura. Jung’s psychological interpretation of manipura as the next station32 in the individuation journey is that “after the second center we could expect the manifestation of new born life, a manifestation of light, intensity, of high activity . . . (Jung, 1996, p. 17). It is “the fire center, really the place where the sun rises” (p. 30). He relates the return of the light to “the Catholic rite of baptism when the godfather holds the child and the priest approaches with the burning candle and says: . . . I give thee the eternal light.” This “means, I give you relatedness to the sun, to the God [sic]. You
I use the word station because of its association with the Christian stations of the cross. This analogy is congenial to yoga philosophy, which, according to Feuerstein (1990, pp. 57-58), correlates the yogin’s stage of advancement with the element (bhuta) in each chakra.
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59 receive the immortal soul, which you did not possess before; you are then ‘twice-born’” (Jung, 1996, p. 31). He adds: So manipura is the center of the identification with the god, where one becomes part of the divine substance, having an immortal soul. You are already part of that which is no longer in time, in three-dimensional space; you belong now to a fourth-dimensional order of things where time is an extension, where space does not exist and time is not, where there is only infinite duration—eternity. (p. 31) In other words, one emerges into awareness of an impersonal dimension. Jung (1996) continues: “So this third center is rightly called the fullness of jewels. It is the great wealth of the sun, the never ending abundance of divine power to which man attains through baptism” (p. 32). Jung further describes manipura as a "center of emotions" (1996, p. 34). He says that the world experience of someone whose consciousness corresponds with this chakra is as if one is “in the womb of nature, extraordinarily automatic; it is merely a process" (p. 39). Although one has experienced an impersonal reality of light, one is still identified with it.33 Jung does not go into great detail interpreting the symbolism of the manipura pictogram. He does amplify its animal symbolism of the ram and in so doing delivers good news to the person undergoing the individuation process. Here, the ram is the sacred symbol of Agni, the god of fire . . . it is no longer an insurmountable power—the sacred power of the elephant. It is now a sacrificial animal, and it is a relatively small sacrifice—not the great sacrifice of the bull, but the smaller This timeless place where one is still identified with the self corresponds with Jean Gebser’s mythic consciousness structure. Gebser writes: “the mythical may be said to establish an awareness of earth’s counterpole, the sun and the sky. In this the earth, having been acquired via the magic struggle, is encompassed, as it were, by both polar psychic realities: by the sub-terrestrial Hades, and by the super-terrestrial Olympus” (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 66). Here, imagination is born (p. 87). This mythic structure is a precursor for achieving directed, discursive thinking (p. 75).
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60 sacrifice of the passions. That is, to sacrifice the passions is not so terribly expensive. The small black animal that is against you is no longer like the leviathan of the depths in the cakra before; the danger has already diminished. Your own passions are really less a danger than to be drowned in unconsciousness. (Jung, 1996, p. 51) In Lecture 3, Jung disagrees with Hauer’s interpretation of the three rectangles jutting out from the center of each side of the triangle in the manipura mandala. Contra Hauer, Jung does not see these rectangles as parts of a swastika. He says, “I never have seen a swastika symbol that had only three feet.” Instead, he interprets this figure as the handles and lids of a pot where food is cooked, which is an alchemical34 symbol (Jung, 1996, p. 43). To summarize the journey of individuation at manipura, one emerges from the night sea journey and is baptized into the light and heat of the spirit. One’s passions are now less insistent, so that the danger of being possessed by unconscious forces is diminished. One is still, however, identified with the forces of the unconscious, having been freshly initiated into the eternal Light of God. Gebser (1949-1953/1985) would add that in this emergence, the mythic imagination is born.
I show in Chapter 7 that tantric yoga has its own, long tradition of spiritual alchemy that, like European alchemy, has its roots in Egypt (White, 1996).
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Figure 4. Anahata chakra pictogram. Note. From The Serpent Power: The secrets of Tantric and Shaktic Yoga (facing p. 381), by A. Avalon, 1974, New York: Dover Publications. Public Domain. Anahata. Jung (1996, p. 39) says that emergence into anahata consciousness, that of the heart, marks the beginning of individuation. About this breakthrough to individuation, Jung says that when a man discovers this, he really becomes a man. Through manipura he is in the womb of nature, extraordinarily automatic; it is merely a process. But in anahata a new thing comes up, the possibility of lifting himself above the emotional happenings and beholding them. (p. 39) If you succeed in remembering yourself, if you succeed in making a difference between yourself and that outburst of passion, then you discover the self, then you begin to individuate. (p. 39) He adds that “individuation is becoming that which is not the ego, and that is very strange . . . . The ego discovers itself as being a mere appendix of the self in a sort of
62 loose connection” (p. 39). Jung’s discussion here amplifies this discovery of self through Kundalini symbolism. “In anahata you behold the purusa, a small figure that is the divine self, namely, that which is not identical with mere causality, mere nature, a mere release of energy that runs down blindly with no purposexii” (Jung, 1996, p. 39). He interprets the animal symbol of anahata, the gazelle, as having a bird-like quality that is as light as air, it only touches the earth here and there . . . . Such an animal would be apt to symbolize the force, the efficiency, and the lightness of psychical substance—thought and feeling . . . . Also it denotes that in anahata the psychical thing is an elusive factor, hardly to be caught. It has exactly the quality that we doctors would mean when we say that it is exceedingly difficult to discover the psychogenic factor in a disease. (p. 52) He finds the gazelle to be a close analogy to the unicorn, “a symbol of the Holy Ghost!that would be a Western equivalentvii” (p. 52). He adds that “this recognition of the psychogenic factor is merely the first recognition of the purusa” (p. 54). Jung correlates the emergence of the psychogenic factor with the psychosomatic symptoms, unconscious errors, synchronicities, and the like, that make it seem as if imps are on the loose (p. 54). In other words, the self is its own, autonomous agent that announces its presence with an increasing insistence in one’s life in odd, synchronistic manifestations of unconscious material.
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Figure 5. Visuddha chakra pictogram. Note. From The Serpent Power: The secrets of Tantric and Shaktic Yoga (facing p. 391), by A. Avalon, 1974, New York: Dover Publications. Public Domain. Visuddha. In Lecture 3, Jung describes the individuant’s emergence from anahata to visuddha consciousness: You begin to leave anahata, because you have succeeded in dissolving the absolute union of material external facts with internal or psychical facts. You begin to consider the game of the world as your game, the people that appear outside as exponents of your psychical condition. Whatever befalls you, whatever experience or adventure you have in the external world, is your own experience. (Jung, 1996, pp. 49-50) Later in the same lecture he says that here, "the insurmountable force of reality is no longer sustaining the data of this earth, but psychical data” (1996, p. 56). In these passages, Jung anticipates his concept of the psychoid nature of archetypes, a concept that he first published more than a decade later, in 1946 (Jung, 1946/1960, pp. 176-177).
64 It is difficult to assemble a full and concise definition of the term psychoid from Jung’s collected works, although it was one of his key concepts for discussing direct encounters with an archetypal reality, such as the self. The most complete and concise description I have found is by J. Marvin Spiegelman, who studied at the C. G. Jung Institute in Zurich, experienced group seminars and a session with Jung and was supervised in his analytic training by Marie-Louise von Franz, among others (personal communication, January 22, 2001). I include his description because it helps clarify an understanding of Jung’s description of visuddha consciousness: Jung concluded that beyond the world of the psyche and its causal manifestations and relations in time and space, there exists a trans-psychic reality (the collective unconscious), where both time and space are relativized. At that level, there is acausality and space-time relativization parallel to the findings in physics. The archetypes are then conceived of as “psychoid”, i.e., not exclusively psychic. Jung referred here to the archetype per se, not traditional archetypal images. This “psychoid archetype” is an unknowable factor which arranges both psychical and physical events in typical patterns, much as the axial system of a crystal pre-exists in the mother liquid of the crystal, although it has no material existence of its own. The psychoid archetype, therefore, is a structuring element, like the “pattern of behavior” in biology, that underlies typical situations in life such as birth, death, illness, change, love, and so on. The psychoid archetype lies behind both psyche and matter and expresses itself typically in synchronistic events. Jung understood synchronicity as an acausal principle which stands behind such events as telepathy, clairvoyance, etc.vii. Synchronistic events are connected through “meaning”, a subjective factor, rather than cause and effect. (Spiegelman, 1976, p. 108) Thus, according to Jung’s description, one experiences the psychoid nature of the archetypes at visuddha. If our experience should reach such a level, we would get an extraordinary vista of the purusa. For then the purusa becomes really the center of things, it is no longer a pale vision, it is then the ultimate reality, as it were. You see, that world will be reached when we succeed in finding a symbolical bridge between the most abstract ideas of physics and the most abstract ideas of analytical psychology. (Jung, 1996, p. 47)
65 Jung’s amplification of the animal symbol of this chakra, a white elephant, elaborates on the emerging psychoid theme he had not yet defined as such. Here we encounter the full power, the insurmountable sacred strength of the animal as it was in muladhara. That is, we meet there all the power which led us into life, into this conscious reality. But here it is not supporting muladhara, this earth. It is supporting those things which we assume to be the most airy, the most unreal, and the most volatile, namely, human thoughts. It is as if the elephant were now making realities out of concepts. We admit our concepts are nothing but our imagination, products of our feeling or of our intellect—abstractions or analogies, sustained by no physical phenomena. The thing that unites them all, that expresses them all, is the concept of energy. (Jung, 1996, pp. 54-55) By “energy,” Jung apparently means to designate a concept of intensity.35 His statement about energy also reflects the fact that it was made in 1932, before Jung had worked out his acausal theory of synchronicity in contrast to the causal concept that classical physics designates as energy. An archetypal image that reflects the making of “realities out of concepts . . . sustained by no physical phenomena” orders events synchronistically. Synchronicity theory extends archetypal events beyond perspectival conventions of space and time, unlike the concept of energy, which is a local effect that can be measured in electromagnetic or gravitational fields. The relationship between local energy fields versus synchronistic acausal ordering is explored in Chapter 8 of this study. Jung discusses the symbolic element of the visuddha chakra in a manner consistent with the above. Here, ether “is a concept of substance that has none of the qualities that matter should have. It is matter that is not matter, and such a thing must necessarily be a concept" (p. 42).
“Energy proper is an abstraction of a physical force, a certain amount of intensity. It is a concept of the natural forces in their suksma aspect, where they are no longer manifestations but tattva, essence, abstraction” (Jung, 1996, p. 8).
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66 During the seminar discussion, Jung interacts with the participants and collectively they describe ether as an element that “penetrates everything,” yet “you cannot catch it,” thus, it is a thought. He places ether with the other elements of Kundalini yoga as an alchemical concept related to sublimation, one that connects with the yogic concept of absorption (laya) of the grosser manifestations of the divine by the subtler. The idea of the transformation of the elements shows the analogy of tantric yoga with our medieval alchemistic philosophy. There one finds exactly the same ideas, the transformation of the gross matter into the subtle matter of the mind— the sublimation of man, as it was then understood. (Jung, 1996, p. 43) Here, Jung suggests another important connection with his later writings, where he explored psychoid elements in the transference and elsewhere in his voluminous studies of alchemy. Jung’s alchemical writings are explored in Chapter 5, “Individuation,” and Chapter 6, “Subtle Body,” where they offer a crucial link between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga. Spiegelman follows Jung’s alchemical thread here and compares the sublimation in Kundalini yoga reflected in its evolving animal images with the transformation seen in the Zen ox-herding pictures. In these pictures, the ox whitens and then is forgotten36 (Spiegelman & Miyuki, 1994, pp. 70-71). In a lecture at Pacifica Graduate Institute, Spiegelman (1996b) interprets the whitening of the ox in the Zen ox-herding pictures of
Following the same line of inference, forgetting the ox and the man in the oxherding pictures corresponds with the disappearance of animal symbols in the highest two centers of Kundalini yoga. A discussion of these centers follows that on visuddha. In his exploration of the next center, ajna, Hauer also makes the connection with the Zen oxherding pictures and refers seminar participants to Ten Essays in Buddhism by D. T. Suzuki. Because that book is not easily found, I refer interested readers to Suzuki’s writing about the ox-herding pictures in Man and Transformation, Eranos Yearbook (1964).
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67 Pu-ming (Spiegelman & Miyuki, pp. 104-107) as a taming of the passions of the animal nature, which includes the mind. This imaginal correlation suggests that the whitening of the elephant, which now appears to be pure white in visuddha, corresponds with the taming of the passions in the Zen ox-herding pictures. I envision this whitening as the alchemical operation of calcinatio, where the fire of the passions burns away impurities (Edinger, 1985, pp. 16-45). Jung does not discuss the symbolism of visuddha further in this lecture, other than to say that the consciousness in this center is beyond that which humanity has collectively attained (Jung, 1996, p. 47). In his comments during the Hauer German lecture of October 8, 1932, Jung remarks that “the visuddha center expresses the word, and what surpasses this, would be the center of abstraction” (Jung, 1996, p. 86).
Figure 6. Ajna chakra pictogram. Note. From The Serpent Power: The secrets of Tantric and Shaktic Yoga (facing p. 413), by A. Avalon, 1974, New York: Dover Publications. Public domain.
68 Ajna. In the pictogram for the ajna chakra, the animal symbol disappears, reflecting the disappearance of animal consciousness and with it, conceptual thinking.37 Both of these have been symbolically tamed in visuddha. Jung speaks briefly about the symbolism in this chakra, but he does so as cautious speculation. “It does not help to speculate about ajna and sahasraravi and God knows what; you can reflect upon those things, but you are not there if you have not had the experience” (Jung, 1996, p. 47). Here is his interpretation of the symbolism of ajna: The ajna center . . . looks like a winged seed, and it contains no animal. There is no psychical factor, nothing against us whose power we might feel. The original symbol, the linga, is here repeated in a new form, the white state. Instead of the dark germinating condition, it is now in the full blazing white light, fully conscious. In other words, the God that has been dormant in muladhara is here fully awake, the only reality; and therefore this center has been called the condition in which one unites with Siva. One could say it was the center of the unio mystica with the power of God, meaning that absolute reality where one is nothing but psychic reality; yet confronted with the psychic reality that one is not. (Jung, 1996, p. 57) In the ajna center the psyche gets wings!here you know you are nothing but psyche. And yet there is another psyche, a counterpart to your psychical reality, the non-ego reality, the thing that is not even to be called self, and you know that you are going to disappear into it. The ego disappears completely; the psychical is no longer a content in us, but we become contents of it. You see this condition in which the white elephant has disappeared into the self is almost unimaginable. He is no longer perceptible even in his strength because he is no longer against you. You are absolutely identical with him. You are not even dreaming of doing anything other than the force is demanding, and the force is not demanding it During the Hauer lecture of October 6, 1932, Jung said that “the ‘yoga-path’ is the path of the plant—a plant-function as opposed to an animal one. Ego-consciousness is, so to speak, like an animal that can speak and move freely” (Jung, 1996, p. 83). Jung may be referring here to Woodroffe’s translation of the first sentence of Sat-CakraNirupana, which says, “Now I speak of the first sprouting shoot (of the Yoga plant) of complete realization of Brahman” (Avalon, 1974, p. 317). He may use the analogy of a plant-like function of growth that seeks the light as an analogy to the autonomous function of the psyche as it seeks the light of individuation and its abilities unfold. Also, in the subtle anatomy of Kundalini yoga, the petals of an awakened chakra turn upward (Goswami, 1999).
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69 since you are already doing it—since you are the force. And the force returns to the origin, God . . . . In ajna there is still the experience of the self that is apparently different from the object, God.38 (p. 57) Jung’s hesitation to talk about the ajna center and the center above it raise another point of controversy, one grounded in his refusal to accept the possibility of yogic liberation as a non-dual consciousness. That refusal is discussed below and in later chapters.
Figure 7. Sahasrara lotus pictogram. Note. From The Serpent Power: The secrets of Tantric and Shaktic Yoga (facing p. 429), by A. Avalon, 1974, New York: Dover Publications. Public Domain.39
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Jung’s interpretation here rings true with yoga philosophy. As one approaches the unified, liberated states of consciousness, there are initial steps out of manifestation that are, paradoxically, not fully manifest. See Goswami (1999) for the condition of seeing Kundalini as the Supreme Being in form at ajna, (p. 76), and for the ultimate relinquishment of I-ness in successively concentrated states of samadhi (p. 7). This classic illustration was apparently drawn by someone who could not see the sahasrara lotus. I once saw the petals of sahasrara, which comprise a sheath that
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70 Sahasrara. Jung states that his psychological understanding does not encompass the symbolism of the sahasrara center, at the top of the head. However, the tone of his refusal to interpret this center goes beyond the humble caution he previously issued that the consciousness of ajna is not useful if one has not experienced it. The way he states this creates controversy because he apparently rejects the symbolism he sees here as being of no practical value. To speak about the lotus of the thousand petals above, the sahasrara center, is quite superfluous because that is merely a philosophical concept with no substance to us whatever; it is beyond any possible experience. In ajna there is still the experience of the self that is apparently different from the object, God. But in sahasrara one understands that it is not different and so the next conclusion would be that there is no object, no God, there is nothing but brahman. There is no experience because it is one, it is without a second. It is dormant, it is not, and therefore it is nirvana. This is an entirely philosophical concept, a mere logical conclusion from the premises before. It is without practical value for us. (Jung, 1996, p. 57) The sweeping nature of his statement that sahasrara “is beyond any possible experience” makes it seem as if Jung rejects the symbolism of that center as being merely speculative, a philosophical extension of yoga philosophy. Such a contention is supported by the following passage from a letter he wrote to Arwind Vasavada, an Indian Jungian analyst, on November 25, 1954: If the self could be wholly experienced, it would be a limited experience whereas in reality its experience is unlimited and endless. It is our ego-consciousness that is capable only of limited experience. We can only say that the self is limitless, but we cannot experience its infinity. I can say that my consciousness is the same as that of the self, but it is nothing but words, since there is not the slightest extends from above the head, and surrounds it. I recall that it extends downward toward or even past the shoulders. My perception of the sahasrara petals is confirmed by the illustration shown by Goswami, on his Plate 25 (Goswami, 1999). Addendum: Swami Chandrasekharanand Saraswati has since told me that I was seeing the emanation of the sahasrara petals, which are actually located as depicted in the classic illustration (personal communication, September 10, 2002).
71 evidence that I participate more or further in the self than my ego-consciousness reaches. What does the grain know of the whole mountain, although it is visibly a part of it? If I were one with the self, I would have knowledge of everything, I would speak Sanskrit, read cuneiform script, know the events that took place in prehistory, be acquainted with the life of other planets, etc. There is unfortunately nothing of the kind.40 (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 192-193) Thus, we complete a review of Jung’s psychological interpretation of the chakras in the Kundalini seminar of 1932 by identifying three areas of controversy. We see immediately above that he refused to accept the testimony of Indian scriptures that the adept attains a non-dual consciousness at one with the Absolute. Earlier in this chapter, I identified Jung’s controversial approach of seeing the descent of individuation for Westerners reflected in the ascent of an aroused or ignited Kundalini. I have also noted Jung’s statements of dire warning to Westerners who attempt Asian meditation practices. Before addressing these controversies, I conclude this section by summarizing Jung’s interpretations of the power centers in Table 1, below.
Joan Harrigan disagrees, saying some adepts manifest the siddhi of speaking languages they have not studied—see the counter-example to Jung’s assertion by Gopi Krishna in Chapter 7. Harrigan also notes in Jung’s November 25, 1954 letter a common misunderstanding of yogic liberation and says that spiritual adepts have different gifts, depending on which brain centers are opened (personal communication, March 18, 2001).
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Power Center (meaning) 1. Muladhara (root support)
2. Svadhisthana 3. Manipura (fullness of jewels)
4. Anahata
5. Visuddha
6. Ajna
7. Sahasrara
Psychological Element Animal Symbol Experience Elephant, symEarth, whose Worldly exbolizing domesfour corners perience, ego ticated libido, are symboawake, self and volition. lized by gods asleep. square. Participation mystique. Baptism, conWater, symbol of Makara = frontation with the un-conscious Leviathan, Great unconscious. Mother. Fire, sym-bolic Ram, symbolic of Initiation and Agni, god of fire. identification with of di-vine Libido is still gods and passions. power. forceful, but not as Center of insistent. emotions. In womb of nature. Individuation Air of lungs, Antelope, lightstarts. Selfspirit. footed, hard to reflection, not fully catch, like psychic factor in identified with somatic symppassions. Dim toms, synchronawareness of self icities, unconand psychic factor scious errors. Ether, as White elephant. Abstraction, Power of life thought and event thought, penetrates all. makes reality out linked of concepts. with experiential reality of self. None. Psyche has wings, None. ego asleep, self awake; still some separation between self and not-self. Philosophical None. None. concept only.
Other Symbolic Elements Shiva and Shakti asleep, in potential. Blood red color of dark passion. Not discussed. Three mandala handles symbolize alchemical vessel. Fiery red of rising/setting sun. Shiva as linga, small flame at center symbo-lizes germ-like appearance of self.
Not discussed.
Shiva and Shakti unite.
Only Oneness.
Table 1. Jung’s psychological interpretation of the padmas41 (power centers).
In Kundalini yoga tradition, not all of the power centers are considered chakras, or wheels. All have petals, and are thus considered padmas, or lotuses. Sahasrara is the power center in this list of major centers that is not a chakra.
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73 Because his was a psychological interpretation, Jung did not translate or interpret all of the symbols for the centers defined in Table 1, although this was not for lack of ability to do so. He demonstrated his extensive knowledge of such symbols during his “Indian Parallels” lecture of October 11, 1930, which is reproduced in the Kundalini seminar book (Jung, 1996, pp. 71-78). Yoga Concepts and Individuation In the Kundalini seminar, Jung surveys a variety of topics, often in response to participants’ questions. Shamdasani has uncovered documents that show he prepared for such lectures (Jung, 1996, p. 71). However, Jung employs a characteristically improvisational style of teaching that relates the symbolic elements of Kundalini yoga to symbols from other cultures, clinical experience, and personal observations. This improvisational style relies on his recall of a vast amount of material. The lectures form such a rich tapestry that I needed several readings42 to cull out the central thread of individuation in Jung’s discourse. I believe that following this thread was easier for the seminar participants than it was for me because many were advanced students of Jung’s analytical psychology. A very careful reading and a separation of
Part of my difficulty was that I did not read Shamdasani’s scholarly notes and thus missed having a context for Jung’s words during my first reading. Then, and in later readings, I was sufficiently invested in my own subtle body concepts that I was taken aback by Jung’s refusal to interpret some terms and surprised by what appeared to be distortions of yoga teachings, such as his inverting the direction of Kundalini rousing for Westerners. J. M. Spiegelman says that the distinction to be made here is that Kundalini perceived as energy relates to yoga, whereas Kundalini symbolic of individuation and when contrasting East and West relates to Jung (personal communication, January 22, 2001). In other words, Kundalini activity is experienced in yoga as a divine manifestation and bio-energetic and spiritual transformation. For more on the distinction between energy and divine manifestation, see the extended Hauer quote cited from pp. 6-7 of Jung, 1996.
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74 concepts using an electronic spreadsheet were required to distinguish different themes of discussion and place them in context. In this way, I found that I had adopted the timeless alchemical operations of separatio and coagulatio. In the section that follows, I present the seminar discussion of yoga concepts by Jung and Hauer. Their definitions and descriptions of these concepts are then briefly summarized in an alphabetical table at the end of the chapter. Some of the presentation that follows explores issues raised by critics and commentators. These concepts are spelled out in this way to facilitate a comparison between individuation and Kundalini yoga and to better understand Jung’s wide-ranging discussion. It is clear that Jung defined these terms primarily for amplification of psychological and cultural concepts, rather than intending any kind of thorough description of yoga philosophy, as such. Gross, subtle, supreme. Gross, subtle, and supreme are the closest English translations for the Sanskrit terms, sthula, suksma, and para that are frequently discussed in the seminar. Jung defines the sthula aspect as “the personal aspect" of reality, (Jung, 1996, p. 62), "things as we see them" (p. 7). "The suksma aspect is what we guess about them, or the abstractions or philosophical conclusions we draw from observed facts” (p. 7). He says that the suksma aspect of reality is equivalent to the Platonic eidolon or eidola, (p. 9) and explains the relationship between the sthula/material reality, and suksma/eidola aspects experientially. “Take the psychological aspect of a chair, it has both a sthula and a suksma aspect. It is a physical phenomenon and as such it is obvious in its sthula aspect. But in its suksma aspect it is not so obvious—the suksma aspect is the idea” (p. 9). During his Kundalini seminar lectures:
75 Hauer stated that according to tantric yoga, there were three aspects of reality— sthula, suksma, and para: ‘The sthula aspect means reality as it appears to our senses . . . . Behind this, or working as the dynamic force within this sthula aspect, we have the suksma aspect, which, literally translated, means the subtle, fine aspect” (ibid., 26). He defined the para aspect as ‘the causes and the real character of those centers of energy. For beyond those dynamic forces of the subtle kind . . . there is a power which can no longer be conceived in mere terms of cosmic energies . . . . There we get into the religious sphere, which is connected with the godhead as it is in its inner nature’ (ibid., 26-27). (Jung, 1996, pp. 6-7) The sthula, suksma, and para aspects of reality are applied within the Indian system to consider subtle body structures from different modes of consciousness. According to Jung, they are "a philosophical way of looking at things. From the standpoint of theory, each cakra43 can be regarded from all three aspects.” He adds that “the cakras however, are symbols.44 They bring together in image form complex and manifold ideas of ideas and facts" (Jung, 1996, p. 60). Jung does not just use these terms to view differing modes of consciousness at each chakra. He also uses them to compare the Indian and Western cultural points of view. This dual use of a new conceptual framework makes the discussion difficult to follow as it was originally presented. Here is how Jung uses the suksma concept to describe these cultural differences: To look at things from a suprapersonal standpoint is to arrive at the suksma aspect. We can attain this standpoint because inasmuch as we create culture, we create suprapersonal values, and when we do this, we begin to see the suksma aspect. Through culture we get an intuition of the other than personal psychological possibilities because the suprapersonal appears in it. (1996, p. 63)
Cakra is an alternate spelling of chakra. The former is used in the Kundalini seminar text (Jung, 1996). The latter spelling more closely indicates pronunciation.
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43
The chakras are more than symbols in Indian philosophy, as noted earlier.
76 In this passage, taken from Lecture 4, Jung clearly extends the Indian term, suksma, to characterize being embedded in one’s culture. Yoga scriptures do not tend to use the term this way, but the usage is not inapt if cultural embeddedness is seen as a form of attachment. One must be free of attachments to achieve the para worldview, and here, Jung humbly admits his limitation as interpreter. “I do not speak of the para aspect because that is what Professor Hauer calls the metaphysical. I must confess that there the mist begins for me” (pp. 6-7). Jung suggests another implication of cultural differences in Lecture 4 when he says that the para45 aspect is for us a purely theoretical abstraction. The Western mind can do nothing with it. To the Indian way of thinking such hypostasized abstractions are much more concrete and substantial. For example, to the Indian, the brahman or the purusa is the one unquestioned reality; to us it is the final result of extremely bold speculation. (1996, p. 69) In this passage Jung apparently points out the difference between the Western, sensory-based, scientific worldview that lacks spiritual awareness, and the Indian worldview, which he perceived to be spiritually aware, but pre-rational, and thus, “primitive.”46 That inference is supported by this passage from Lecture 1, following his discussion of the Platonic eidola.
Hauer gives a description of the para aspect during one of his lectures at the seminar that is true to the Indian meaning of the term and has important implications for the psychoid nature of the archetypes. "‘Beyond those dynamic forces of the subtle kind . . . there is a power which can no longer be conceived in mere terms of cosmic energies . . . . There we get into the religious sphere, which is connected with the godhead as it is in its inner nature.’" (Jung, 1996, p. 7) Another reason for Indians experiencing such abstractions as substantial may arise from their experiences with adepts who display siddhis. I have experienced such people (H. H. Gyalwa Karmapa XVI and Tarthang Tulku Rinpoche). Their palpably intense bio-energetic presence adds credence to the claims of Indian spiritual texts.
46
45
77 If the primitive mind thinks a thing, it is. A dream, for instance, is to them as real as this chair. They must be very careful not to think certain things, as the thought easily might become reality. We are still like that—we say a mouthful, and at the same time we touch wood. (Jung, 1996, p. 10) In the discussion that follows, Jung characterizes Indian thinking as pre-Kantian47 and as tending to hypostasize, or take ideas as facts. This consideration of the ways Jung interpreted the gross, subtle, and supreme distinctions in yoga philosophy creates the context needed to address the controversy raised by his interpreting Kundalini rousing as a descent for Westerners. Jung’s alleged “rope trick.” H. G. Coward, in his book, Jung and Eastern Thought, issues the following critique of Jung’s discussion of Kundalini rousing as descent: With today’s much better knowledge of Eastern thought, it is doubtful that Jung's “rope trick” of standing Kundalini Yoga on its head and then lopping off the last two chakras as “superfluous speculations with no practical value” would be accepted. What Jung’s “Commentary” accomplished then, and still does today, is to provide added insight into his understanding of the process of individuation, not an accurate description of Kundalini. The conceptual structure of Kundalini Yoga provided a colorful, if at times confusing, backdrop against which Jung could develop his own thinking about the ego, the emotions and the self. For modern students of comparative psychology or religion Jung’s “Commentary” is also useful in suggesting some key points of similarity and difference between Eastern and Western thought. (Coward, 1985a, p. 123) In this chapter, I have presented many quotes from Jung’s seminar that demonstrate he was, in fact, presenting an amplification of individuation through the symbolism of Kundalini yoga while allowing Hauer to teach the yoga concepts in their own right. I agree with Coward that Jung’s lectures were sometimes confusing. Like him,
J. J. Clarke (1994, p. 162) takes Jung to task for stereotyping Indian culture as uniformly pre-rational, thus failing to recognize the existence of a rigorous Indian critical philosophy that included a dialectical approach and pre-dated Jung’s work.
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78 I see Jung’s “lopping off” of the upper two centers as problematic and address that controversial element in context, below. Coward’s critique seems based in part upon the lack of explanatory notes in the seminar’s first three published versions, including mimeographed versions in English and German,48 and its first wide publication in the journal, Spring (Jung, 1933/1975, 1933/1976). The Spring version omits all of Hauer’s lecture material and some of the sophisticated comments of seminar participants. Coward wrote his critique with the understanding that the majority of the seminar participants experienced “intellectual indigestion” (Coward, 1984, p. 123), a notion supported by a passage he quotes from Barbara Hannah’s memoir where she reports that during the talks by Hauer, “we all got terribly out of ourselves and confused.” She then suggested that Jung gave his psychological commentary as an impromptu effort to settle that confusion (Shamdasani, 1996, pp. xxxiii-xxxiv). Hannah’s account of collective confusion is countered by Shamdasani’s report of his interview of C. A. Meier. In that interview, Meier said he found the Hauer presentations “perfectly clear, and added that there was no general confusion.lxiii” Meier then discussed the planned collaboration between Jung and Hauer, including designation of their respective roles as psychologist and philologist (Shamdasani, 1996, p. xxxiv). Coward’s critique of Jung’s alleged “rope trick” could easily be seen to miss Jung’s direct statement in Lecture 1 that “I make the attempt to approach the thing from the psychological point of view” (Jung, 1996, pp. 19-20). However, Coward does
For descriptions of these various editions, see Shamdasani’s account in the Kundalini seminar book (Shamdasani, 1996, pp. xi-xii).
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79 acknowledge Jung’s intent to offer a commentary that is psychological (Coward, 1985, pp. 109-110). Coward’s criticism, then, appears to be that Jung could have done more to understand Kundalini yoga on its own terms, although Jung apparently did not wish to do so and admitted that this was not his field of expertise. I now address the controversy Jung ignites by metaphorically standing Kundalini on Her head. Certainly the start of Jung’s first Lecture is confusing because it is not readily apparent that he uses a concept that is usually applied to the individual psyche and subtle body to address cultural differences. It is a peculiar fact that in the East they put these cakras not below our feet but above. We would put muladhara above because this is our conscious world, and the next cakra would be underneath—that is our feeling because we really begin above. It is all exchanged, we begin in our conscious world, so we can say our muladhara might be, not down below in the belly, but up in the head. You see that puts everything upside-down. (Jung, 1996, p. 13) In Lecture 4, he clarifies his position by framing it as a cultural difference. Looked at from the sthula aspect the collective culture of India really is in muladhara while ours has reached anahata. But the Indian concept of life understands humanity under the suksma aspect and looked at from that standpoint everything becomes completely reversed. Our personal consciousness can indeed be located in anahata or even in ajna, but none the less our psychic situation as a whole is undoubtedly in muladhara. (Jung, 1996, p. 65) The logical pivot here is Jung’s use of the word suksma to designate a mode of consciousness that is suprapersonal, a concept that includes the worldview of a culture. To repeat a passage that is quoted a few pages above: Inasmuch as we create culture, we create suprapersonal values, and when we do this, we begin to see the suksma aspect. Through culture we get an intuition of the other than personal psychological possibilities because the suprapersonal appears in it. (p. 63) In fact, Jung explicitly recognizes that the ascent of Kundalini is universal, when he says in Lecture 4 that the movement from the root chakra, muladhara, to the belly
80 chakra, svadhisthana, can certainly be considered an ascent. His characterization here is still psychological and symbolic. It follows a lengthy discussion from the start of Lecture 4 about the cultural differences between East and West, a discussion that implies that these are differences in the paths of individuation for each culture. We now understand that the diving into the water and the enduring of the flames is not a descent, not a fall into the lower levels, but an ascent. It is a development beyond the conscious ego, an experience of the personal way into the suprapersonal—a widening of the psychic horizons of the individual so as to include what is common to all mankind. (Jung, 1996, p. 66) In a discussion of the psychical location of the chakras across cultures during Hauer’s German lecture of October 8, 1932, Jung makes it clear that he does not mean to literally change the locations of the chakras or their relationship to each other and that he sees these chakra locations as a worldwide phenomenon. The cakras are symbols for human levels of consciousness in general. Ethnically and psychologically we can distinguish three different psychical localizations, of which the first corresponds more or less to muladhara-svadhisthana, the second to manipura and anahata, and the third one to visuddha and ajna. The psychology of the lower centers is analogous to the one of primitives—unconscious, instinctive, and involved in participation mystique [sic]. Life appears here as an occurrence, so to speak, without ego. One is not aware that one wants or does things; everything happens as it were in the third person. The next localization is in the region of the diaphragm, thus manipuraanahata, with oscillations up and down,49 above and beneath the diaphragm. Beneath the diaphragm, all occurrence is self-evident. In manipura is the emotional human being, who again and again is inundated and becomes constantly the victim of his passions. Only above the diaphragm is it: I want. In the heart—anahata—is the first notion of the self, of the absolute center, the substance to which life is related. This notion of the self is the flame in anahata. Here the rational functions50 start. This is one of Jung’s prescient insights. The presentation of Kundalini yoga in Chapter 7 describes the vertical oscillation of Kundalini risings that have not reached a point of consolidation at the ajna chakra (Harrigan, 2000). “Thinking and feeling . . . are rational functions in so far as they are decisively influenced by reflection” (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 459). Jung contrasts these two rational functions of the personality with the two irrational functions, sensation and intuition.
50 49
81 We have figures of speech that still now express this. We say "cross my heart," or we beat our chest when we refer to ourselves. The Pueblo Indian thinks in his heart, as does the Homeric person, whose spirit is located in the diaphragm (Phren—the emotional and thinking soul). Our psychical localization is admittedly in the head, but the gesture is still archaic, and when emotions become involved, our psychology slips down to manipura.51 (Jung, 1996, p. 85) During Hauer’s English lecture on the same day, Jung gives a detailed account of the first patient with Kundalini awakening that he recognized as such, including the steady procession of her symptoms and symbolic material from the root chakra upward (Hauer & Jung, pp. 104-106). In that account he makes it clear that he does not consider the embeddedness in a culture to be a matter of genetics, but one of being immersed in that culture, as his patient was during early childhood. He says: The patient was a girl born in India of European parents. There was no mixture of blood. She was as European as you are. But the first six years of her life had been spent in India, where she had had a Malay nurse who was quite uneducated…. There was no teaching of this sort, these things were completely unknown to her, but somehow these Eastern ideas got into her unconscious . . . . Indian psychology . . . had been grafted upon her with the milk she drank from that ayah and through the suggestion of her surroundings. (Hauer & Jung, 1996, pp. 102-104) In that case, after Kundalini had risen to ajna and beyond, there was a symbolic descent of a bird, symbolizing a spiritual force, a descent that is also recognized by Hauer (p. 89) and is consistent with the Kundalini yoga tradition (see Chapter 7). Thus, Jung was well aware of the initial ascent of Kundalini as a process of psycho-physical transformation and discussed it as such during the seminar. Jung’s refusal to accept the idea of non-dual awareness can seem obstinate to some. However, this is also a subject of contention in traditional Indian philosophy
This quote believes a critique of Wilber’s, reviewed in Chapter 4, that Jung confuses the pre-personal (participation mystique) with the transpersonal realms characterized by the psychoid characteristics of archetypes.
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82 (Torwesten, 1985/1991; von Moltke, 2000, pp. 62-83). If Jung had allowed for the possibility of non-dual awareness, this hypothesis would have permitted a fuller interpretation of the upper two centers. His refusal is based, in part, on his contention, noted above, that India is a pre-Kantian culture that tends to hypostasize spiritual concepts and make exaggerated claims in its scriptures without a basis in experience. This idea is supported by the example given in his letter to Vasavada (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1994, pp. 192-193) that suggests he has not seen evidence of the siddhi of speaking in foreign tongues. His refusal may also have to do with his shutting out excessive influence of the yoga tradition and its adepts52 because of a strongly felt calling to develop his own psychology as a yoga for the West. This sense of calling and its reflection in Jung’s personality are seen in his remarks about his friend, Richard Wilhelm, a noted translator of Asian texts. In his memoirs, Jung states (1961/1989, p. 377) that Wilhelm would engage with interest in discussions about meditation or religion. Whenever Jung attempted to point out psychological issues he observed in Wilhelm’s person, Jung says that he “immediately sensed a drawing back, an inward shutting himself off….” Jung writes that “I believed I understood his situation, since I myself had the same problem as he [emphasis added] and knew what it meant to be involved with this conflict.” He notes that:
Jung noted in his memoirs that he studiously avoided all visits with “holy men” during his 1938 journey to India (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 275). Sonu Shamdasani believes he may have had such contacts that he did not publicly avow (personal communication, November 20, 2000). This topic will be presented in full in Chapter 4, “Jung and Indian Spirituality.”
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83 This is a phenomenon I have observed in many men of importance. There is, as Goethe puts it in Faust, an ‘untrodden, untreadable’ region whose precincts cannot and should not be entered by force; a destiny which will brook no human intervention. (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 377) To summarize this section about Jung’s alleged “rope trick,” he inverts the Kundalini yoga ascent for his Western seminar participants as a teaching technique to illustrate the psychological differences between Indian and European culture.53 He does not assert an actual or genetic difference in Kundalini rising. He lops off the upper two chakras because they are beyond his experience and because he cannot bring himself to agree with the claim in scriptures that adepts achieve a non-dual consciousness that is merged into Brahman, the Absolute. “The sublimation of man.” This subhead reflects the following passage, from Jung’s third lecture. The idea of the transformation of the elements shows the analogy of tantric yoga with our medieval alchemistic philosophy. There one finds exactly the same ideas, the transformation of the gross matter into the subtle matter of the mind— the sublimation of man, as it was then understood. (Jung, 1996, p. 43) The sublimation of man is a central concept in yoga philosophy and a good starting point for summarizing how that philosophy is discussed by Jung and Hauer during their Kundalini seminar lectures of 1932. Each of the four lower centers has an element belonging to it—muladhara, the earth, svadhisthana, the water, then comes fire in manipura, and finally air in anahata. So one can see the whole thing as a sort of transformation of elements, with the increase of volatility—of volatile substance. And the next form we reach is visuddha,i which is the ether center. (p. 42) The Kundalini seminar is not the only place where Jung commented upon Eastern teachings in reverse order. His commentary on The Tibetan Book of the Dead also reverses the order of the text—in that case, to present an ascent of consciousness from mundane to transcendent realms to extend his individuation idea. In that case, his reversal is easier to follow, and, he again admits that his reversal does not follow the intent of the original text (Jung, 1953/1969).
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84 According to Jung, the starting point of the philosophy of Kundalini yoga is Brahman, the Absolute, viewing manifest reality from divine, exalted, subtle states down to the mundane (p. 65). The alchemical sublimation achieved by yoga practice (sadhana or puja) returns consciousness to its Source (Brahman). Jung characterizes, and in context, seems to caricature the Indian worldview as follows: "In the beginning was the one brahman without a second. It is the one indubitable reality, being and not-beingiv" (p. 65). Brahman is “an existing nonexisting [sic] oneness” (p. 6). Oneness with Brahman is achieved in sahasrara. The concept of Brahman and a non-dual consciousness merged with it is a concept that Jung considers to be merely philosophical for Westerners (p. 57). When addressing ultimate realities, Jung maintains a dualistic, ego/self focus during Hauer’s English lecture of October 8, 1932: “As Faust says, man is the small god of the world. I am only the bindu, but the bija letter [mantric syllable], the real thing, is the self and whatever I do is moved or caused by the bija-deva” (Hauer & Jung, 1996, pp. 109-110). Deva is a goddess. What are bija and bindu?54 Hauer interprets these terms as follows in the same lecture, when describing meditation practice: The bijaxvi also should be realised in meditation. The inner working force in this bija is not a clearly developed personality, it is never named. The bija simply These terms are loosely defined in this section, so in order not to leave some readers completely puzzled, let me summarize Feuerstein’s definitions. Bindu is a drop or dot, also “the inaudible, transcendental ‘sound’ of the Absolute.” Sometimes bindu is synonymous with semen, which the Kundalini yoga practitioner attempts to raise up the central channel in the spine. Bindu is sometimes used synonymously with bija, or “seed,” the source point of all manifestation. Bija can be a source point of affliction, or an object of meditation, as in bija-mantra or seed word (Feuerstein, 2000, pp. 58-59). Harrigan expands this description by saying that actually bindu is more subtle than bija. The bindu point is the most subtle. It represents the one source of all whereas a bija mantra is a subtle vibratory pattern that emanates from that source. She adds that “devi” means goddess. In Sanskrit, a deva is a “bright being” or deity (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, March 18, 2001).
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85 symbolizes a subconscious power in that element of which it is the symbol; this is working in one's psychic foundation, but it can only work with real force when it is realized by meditation. As you know, I call that power the bija-deva.xvii Out of this is projected or grows the bindu-deva which is the same force, but projected out of the unconscious into clear consciousness. (Hauer & Jung, 1996, p. 101) Shamdasani states, in footnote 16, that “Hauer defined the bija as follows: ‘The bija is the germ of a cakra, the word bija means germ.’” In footnote xvii to the paragraph above, Shamdasani writes that Hauer had stated: “I distinguish the bija-deva from the bindu-deva. (These expressions I have coined myself on the basis of the cakras as I understand them). The bindu-deva is always a psychic and spiritual working force... the bindu-deva is the ruling divinity of that force" (Hauer & Jung, 1996, p. 101). The more liberated states are not covered thoroughly by Jung in these seminars, thus some steps are lost in Indian philosophy’s detailed description of manifestation of the divine into worldly reality. A view of alchemical sublimation to return to the Source by yoga practice helps complete the brief sketch presented by Jung and Hauer. According to Jung, “there is the preparatory way and then the real awakening.” In the same lecture, he says: Yoga says one's citta (mind) must be purified before one can even think of beginning the way of the Kundalini. It is the same in analysis. You must clarify the mind until you have perfect objectivity, until you can admit that something moves in your mind independently of your will. For instance, until you can acknowledge a fantasy objectively. (Hauer & Jung, 1996, pp. 90-91) Referring to Jung’s individuation construct, Hauer (1996, p. 101) and Jung (1996, p. 22) both define Kundalini as the anima archetype. Jung’s definition recognizes Kundalini’s divine nature. He says: Kundalini, which is to be awakened in the sleeping muladhara world is the suprapersonal, the non-ego, the totality of the psyche through which alone we can attain the higher cakras in a cosmic or metaphysical sense. For this reason Kundalini is the same principle as the Soter, the Saviour Serpent of the Gnostics. This way of looking at the world is the suksma aspect. The suksma aspect is the
86 inner cosmic meaning of events—the "subtle body," the suprapersonal. (Jung, 1996, pp. 68-69) Hauer also defines Kundalini as a suprapersonal entity. Although his description is somewhat confusing, it reflects Kundalini’s suprapersonal nature. Kundalini as understood here is not in any way an erotic power of man, but a form of woman power which is nothing but pure knowledge; there is in woman power a certain power of knowledge, a force, which has nothing to do with the erotic, and this has to be set free and united with the knowledge force of man power at its highest point of development. (Hauer, cited in Jung, 1996, p. 20) In these seminars, Hauer also asserts a misconception when he fails to recognize that Kundalini can be awakened without adequate preparation (Harrigan, 2000). He intentionally disagrees with both Western and Eastern commentators: As to the question when it [Kundalini] is to be awakened, I think the texts have been misunderstood by the commentators not only in the West but also in the East. They all speak as if she could be awakened at any time from the beginning onward. But that is not so. Kundalini can only be awakened after the yogin has mastered all the limbs of yoga up to samadhi, the eight limb [sic] or step [sic]55 of yoga. Only after he has finished the whole course, and has achieved all the changes within that are to be worked by Yoga, only then can he awaken Kundalini. (Hauer & Jung, 1996, p. 88) Details of tantric initiation by a guru are not discussed in these seminars. Hauer does outline how one meditates, harnessing the sound power of a mantra, which Jung alludes to as speech with magical power (Jung, 1996, pp. 40-41). Here is Hauer’s description of the use of mantra in meditation, the oral tradition of the guru’s transmission, and the yogic belief in the microcosm reflecting the macrocosm. On each petal is a letter. The letters are hummed in meditation, and while humming one should realize the meaning of each, which is only told you by a guru. The letters symbolize the growing organic aspect hidden in that particular region. This is not conscious. Hidden away in each petal is a force which must be realized and brought into connection with the center. The metaphysical and the
55
I believe that limb and step should be plural here.
87 metapsychicalxv [parapsychological] idea is that in the very center of the psychic organism, which is in the very center of the cosmic organism, there is a subconscious sound force that regulates life unconsciously, and one should realize the meaning of that sound power by meditation. It must come up into the conscious, if one can let it work in consciousness it becomes stronger. (Hauer & Jung, 1996, p. 101.) Yogic meditation develops an increasing ability to concentrate, aided by successive withdrawal from attachments that are generated through sensory perception of the material world and the subjective worlds of feeling and thought. Jung accurately defines dharana as a concentration on an internal object. He does not discuss the later stages of concentration that culminate in ever-deepening samadhi states. Different aspects of cognition are discussed as follows during the seminars. Klesas are “urges, a natural instinctive form in which libido first appears out of the unconscious; that is the psychological energy, or libido in its simplest form of manifestationv”56 (p. 4). These are characterized by Jung and Hauer as urges toward individuality, separation, and discrimination. According to Hauer, the klesas disappear when one reaches chakras above the heart center (Hauer & Jung, 1996, p. 92). Harrigan notes that this last statement is not true in yoga practice.57 Jung defines citta as “the conscious and unconscious psychic field, collective mentality, the sphere in which phenomena take place” (1996, p. 70) He further
Harrigan says that klesas are the causes of suffering. Vasana is a good term for urge, desire, deep-level desire, or drive (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, March 18, 2001). Harrigan says that from a practitioner’s perspective, the klesas do not disappear at anahata. She says that there are Kundalini full risings to the upper brow chakra with and without vasanas (see footnote above). She adds that one is lucky vasanas disappear by the time Kundalini Shakti reaches bindu at the top of the head, which marks the achievement of a complete Kundalini rising (for more on levels of rising, see Chapter 7) (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, March 18, 2001).
57
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88 characterizes citta as “our organ of knowledge, the empirical ego” (p. 70). Hauer describes citta in a simple way that is congruent with the Indian understanding of the term:58 Citta is absolutely everything that is in our inner world . . . . Everything is under the power of citta and therefore citta as “soul” is the sense of being the complete inner cosmos . . . . If I understand the psychology of Dr. Jung deeply enough, I feel that his conception of soul has something of this conception of citta. (Hauer, cited in Jung, 1996, p. 70)59 He further characterizes citta as “a mirror of the purusa” once klesas (urges) are no longer active in the upper power centers (Hauer, 1996, p. 92). Hauer defines buddhi as “the organ of intuition that is composed of pure sattva, that light-world-substance which is at the base of cognition or knowledge, insight" (1996, p. 18). Jung defines tattva as “the essence of things” (1996, p. 8), and notes that this essence is treated almost as a concrete reality in the East (p. 9), almost as if one could have “a vision of a tattva.” This definition is incomplete and does not conceptually
According to Harrigan, there are four functions of mind in Indian philosophy, which are referred to collectively as antahkarana, the inner instrument. Manas is the sensorimotor mind, ahamkara is I-ness, citta is the storehouse of unconscious impressions, buddhi is the capacity for discernment, insight, and wisdom. If citta becomes conscious and the sense of I-ness can accommodate it, it is incorporated into the individual self-concept. If such consciousness is too threatening to I-ness, it does not come into awareness, or it is forcefully suppressed. She adds that different scriptures have different meanings for the term, citta. Sometimes citta is mind in a generic sense, sometimes it is the storehouse of unconscious impressions (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, March 18, 2001). For a discussion of soul in Jung’s early works that would have been available to Hauer, see Jung, 1916/1991, p. 260. Also, the following definition shows that Hauer’s understanding of Jung’s definition is accurate. “Analytical psychology opposes the view that the soul does not coincide with the totality of the psychic functions. We define the soul on the one hand as the relation to the unconscious, and on the other as a personification of unconscious contents” (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 247).
59
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89 situate tattva in the Indian hierarchy of manifestation. This term will be taken up in Chapter 7 where that hierarchy is presented. Jung describes samskaras as “the unconscious conditions in which we live. The samskara [sic] are inherited germs we might say, unconscious determinants, pre-existing qualities of things to be, life in the roots.” He also relates them to the Western idea of heredity or the collective unconscious, although he admits this is very different from the Eastern definition (Jung, 1996, p. 9). Hauer, staying closer to the traditional definition, reveals the personification of the Absolute manifesting Itself in these concepts when he describes samskaras as “’the maker who makes things so that they are really a . . . working whole’” (p. 8). He explains this personification in terms of the illusion that we exert our will as separate egos. Hauer’s conceptualization is not unlike the teaching Jung received from his inner guru, Philemon, that thoughts do not originate with us but in the collective unconscious (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 183). An essential subject that should still be addressed in a seminar about Kundalini yoga is that of the subtle anatomy of the incarnated individual. This includes the chakras as power centers, their connection by nadis (subtle channels), and so on. Jung demonstrates a detailed knowledge of these elements in his Indian Parallels lecture of 1930 that is reproduced in the Kundalini seminar book (Jung, 1996, pp. 71-78). However, he does not present such information in the Kundalini seminars of 1932. Hauer may have covered some of this material, which was certainly available to seminar participants in the source text being addressed by Jung and Hauer, Sat-Cakra-Nirupana. That text is accompanied by an extensive commentary by Sir John Woodroffe (Avalon, 1974). To provide context, the Zimmer book entitled, Artistic Form and Yoga in the Sacred Images
90 of India, discusses the intent of Indian religious art and its underlying philosophy. It is clearly a source for Jung’s understanding of the nature of yantras, (sacred images and geometries used in meditation), the concentric elements in a mandala (a subset of yantra), and the highly codified depiction of deities, their gestures, symbolic tools, and ornaments. Anyone familiar with Indian philosophy and the practice of yoga can see that the technical discussions of these subjects in the Kundalini seminars of 1932 were sketchy, at best. The incomplete nature of such presentations is congruent with the intent of these seminars, which was to amplify analytical psychology via Kundalini yoga symbolism. Table 2 offers an alphabetical summary of the yoga terms used above, as they were discussed in the Kundalini seminar of 1932. Yoga Term Atman Bija Brahman Buddhi “Existing nonexisting oneness . . . without a second,” a merely philosophical concept. “The organ of intuition that is composed of pure sattva, that lightworld-substance which is at the base of cognition or knowledge, insight." Jung’s Definition/Description Psychologically equivalent to the self. “Symbolizes a subconscious power in that element of which it is the symbol.” Hauer’s Definition/Description
91 Yoga Term Cakra, Chakra Jung’s Definition/Description Symbols and worlds of life experience. When corresponding with bodily location, muladharasvadhisthana correspond with primitive, unconscious instinct; manipura, at diaphragm corresponds with emotionality; anahata, above diaphragm, is where individuation starts; ajna, at brow, relates to psychical consciousness. Mind, “the conscious and unconscious psychic field, collective mentality, the sphere in which [phenomena take place].” “Our organ of knowledge, the empirical ego.” Hauer’s Definition/Description
Citta
“Citta is absolutely everything that is in our inner world . . . . Everything is under the power of citta and therefore citta is “soul” is the sense of being the complete inner cosmos . . . .” Similar to Jung’s concept of soul. A mirror of the purusa once klesas are no longer active in upper power centers.
Devi Dharana Klesas
As used in context, goddess. Concentration. “Urges, a natural instinctive form in which libido first appears out of the unconscious.” Urges toward individuality, separation, and discrimination.
Kundalini
Kundalini awakening Laya
"The roots in the subconscious are called klesa . . . . ‘Ailment, or the force that makes the ailment.’” The klesa dvesa is "the wish to be two," and the klesa asmita is "the character of being an ego." Klesas disappear at ajna cakra leaving citta as a pure mirror of the purusa. The anima, also “a form of woman The anima, also “the suprapersonal, the non-ego, the totality of the psyche power which is nothing but pure knowledge, which has nothing to do through which alone we can attain with the erotic.” the higher cakras in a cosmic or metaphysical sense . . . . The same principle as the Soter, the Saviour Serpent of the Gnostics.” Only accomplished after completing the eight limbs of yoga and achieving samadhi. Not named as such, but clearly discussed as “the sublimation of man” when Kundalini rises through progressively volatile elements of the cakras.
92 Yoga Term Lotus Linga. Mandala. Jung’s Definition/Description Equivalent to cakra, female symbol. Symbol of “man power.” Ring, or circle, a magic circle, or a cycle. “There are Vedic sutras where the series of chapters makes a cycle that is called a mandala.” Also, “one of the Yantras, an instrument of worship. Illusions. Equivalent to cakra; female symbol. “A power which can no longer be conceived in mere terms of cosmic energies . . . . connected with the godhead as it is in its inner nature.” Psychologically equivalent to the self, “the essence of man, the supreme man, the so-called primordial man.” Equivalent to devi or goddess. An abstract concept similar to the Western idea of heredity or the collective unconscious, although Jung admits this is very different from the eastern definition. “The unconscious conditions in which we live. The samskara are inherited germs we might say, unconscious determinants, pre-existing qualities of things to be, life in the roots.” “That light-world-substance which is at the base of cognition or knowledge, insight." Participants indicated they knew Siva was a god and male counterpart to Sakti. “Reality as it appears to our senses.” “Literally translated, means the subtle, fine aspect.” Hauer’s Definition/Description
Maya Padma Para
Purusa
Sakti, Shakti Samskara
“Woman power.”
Sattva Siva, Shiva Sthula Suksma Participants indicated they knew Siva was a god and male counterpart to Sakti. “The personal aspect" of reality, "things as we see them," equivalent to Platonic idea or eidolon/eidola. The abstractions or philosophical conclusions we draw from observed facts.” Suprapersonal.
93 Yoga Term Tattva Jung’s Definition/Description Hauer’s Definition/Description
Dvesa tattva is described as “The essence of things” treated follows: "The subtle or suksma almost as a concrete reality in the aspect of dvesa is the power to be a East as if one could have a vision of separate personality, that is the an essence, or tattva, which is a metapsychic force that creates or suksma phenomenon. Jung sees the makes possible the personality. But element of hatred in Hauer’s description to the right as positive in the sthula aspect is the one we experience in ordinary life, that is creating separation from an mixed with hatred." undifferentiated other. Yantra “An instrument of worship in the Lamaistic cult and in tantric yoga.” Yoni Symbolically the female organ, the Symbol of “woman power.” padma or lotus. Table 2. Description of Kundalini yoga terms during the 1932 Kundalini seminar. Chapter Summary C. G. Jung’s discussion of Kundalini yoga in the 1932 Kundalini seminar was a wide-ranging symbolic amplification of the individuation process. To address my first research question, Jung implies that there is fundamental difference between Kundalini yoga practice and individuation through analytical psychology in his repeated and strong warnings that Westerners not adopt such practices. During the seminar, Jung and his collaborator, J. W. Hauer, interpreted many terms from Indian philosophy and yoga practice to give context to Jung’s presentation, but these were sketchy, at best, and apparently amassed a confusing amount of detail for some participants. A further element of confusion and controversy was raised when Jung compared Indian and Western cultures using the terms of Indian philosophy and Kundalini yoga. More salutary was Jung’s anticipation of his later formulation of the psychoid nature of the archetypes and synchronicity. He also linked the sublimation of Kundalini yoga with Western alchemy, which was to become an element of intense focus as he elaborated the individuation process in his later works. The next chapter establishes the cultural and philosophical
94 contexts of Jung’s discussion of Indian spirituality. It surveys and responds to typical critiques of his approach.
95 Chapter 4 Jung and Indian Spirituality Introduction A careful reading of the 1932 Kundalini seminar reveals that it was a discursive tour de force where Jung applied the symbolism of Kundalini yoga to the individuation process. The seminar audience was a sophisticated and educated group, comprising many long-time students of Jung. Kundalini symbolism suggested many parallels to analytical psychology. But unlike the Greek mythology or Christian Gnosticism Jung had discussed in earlier works, Kundalini yoga is a living tradition that evolved in a non-European culture. Faced with the complexity of simultaneously discussing individuation, Kundalini symbolism, and the differences between cultures, Jung intermixed symbolic ideas and drew analogies to extend his psychology. Such teaching techniques easily lose those less familiar with his psychology than his direct students. People wanting to know about Kundalini yoga in its own right do not find a thorough presentation of that discipline in his seminar, nor does Jung promise such a presentation. My analysis of the seminar in the previous chapter identifies several points of controversy, including Jung’s (a) lack of a Kundalini yoga practitioner perspective, (b) puzzling warnings that Westerners not practice yoga, (c) scant interpretation of symbols for the ajna padma and his strong, virtual dismissal of the sahasrara power center at the top of the head, (d) refusal to accept the possibility of a non-dual consciousness, a controversy that also exists in Indian philosophy, and (e) use of teaching techniques that were sometimes difficult to follow, such as inverting Kundalini Shakti’s progression through the chakra system to portray cultural differences.
96 The Kundalini seminar and many of Jung’s other commentaries about Eastern spirituality have been widely criticized. Some see his warnings against yoga practice scaring people away from opportunities for spiritual transformation (Jacobs, 1961, p. 146; Coward, 1985a, Clarke, 1994). Many believe that Jung does not understand many Eastern concepts but instead sees them through the lens of his psychology (Jacobs, 1961; Krishna, 1975; Coward, 1985; Clarke, 1994). Some cite his European, scientific bias as a major factor that distorts his vision (Jacobs, 1961; Clarke, 1994). Most critics and many adherents to Jung’s analytical psychology are puzzled that he avoided notable adept yoga practitioners during his 1938 visit to India. My review reveals that some of the critics’ points are well-taken, although some commentators have not sufficiently read Jung’s works to understand him. This chapter reviews and responds to various critiques and aims especially at addressing three of my research questions: 2. What controversies have been raised by Jung’s commentaries and interpretations of Kundalini yoga texts? 3. How did these controversies arise from personal, cultural, and practice perspectives? 4. Can some of these controversies be settled? A Path Not Taken Some of the controversies listed above can be seen in a story of a path Jung did not take. During his journey to India in 1938, he refused to visit one of India’s spiritual giants, Sri Ramana Maharshi, a choice that even puzzled his friends. Jung offers this account:
97 Heinrich Zimmer had been interested for years in the Maharshi of Tiruvannamalai, and the first question he asked me on my return from India concerned this latest holy and wise man from southern India. I do not know whether my friend found it an unforgivable or an incomprehensible sin on my part that I had not sought out Shri Ramana. I had the feeling that he would certainly not have neglected to pay him a visit, so warm was his interest in the life and thought of the holy man. (Jung, 1944/1969, p. 576) Perhaps I should have visited Shri Ramana. Yet I fear that if I journeyed to India a second time to make up for my omission, it would fare with me just the same: I simply could not, despite the uniqueness of the occasion, bring myself to visit this undoubtedly distinguished man personally. For the fact is, I doubt his uniqueness; he is of a type which always was and will be. Therefore it was not necessary to seek him out . . . . In India he is merely the whitest spot on a white surface (whose whiteness is mentioned only because there are so many surfaces that are just as black). (p. 577) In his memoirs, Jung adds: I studiously avoided all so-called “holy men.” I did so because I had to make do with my own truth, not accept from others what I could not attain on my own. I would have felt it as a theft had I attempted to learn from the holy men and to accept their truth for myself. Neither in Europe can I make any borrowings from the East, but must shape my life out of myself—out of what my inner being tells me, or what nature brings to me. (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 275) When I first came upon this story of Jung’s refusal, I was surprised that a pioneer of consciousness would not be interested in meeting a person who by all accounts had achieved advanced consciousness. Admittedly, in such an encounter, Jung would have found himself face-to-face with an adherent of a philosophy of consciousness he had rejected on theoretical grounds. Jung had read Maharshi’s writings, which clearly show that the holy man believed in Advaita Vedanta (Jung, 1944/1969; Torwesten, 1985/1991). Vedanta is the body of spiritual thought found in India’s ancient spiritual canon, the Vedas. The Sanskrit meaning of Advaita denotes “not-two” (Torwesten, 1985/1991, p. 115). As noted in the previous chapter, Jung took a Kantian position that one cannot perceive reality directly but must always do so through the preconceptions of one’s
98 individual consciousness. Otherwise, there is no entity to be a witness. Thus he sees “non-dual” and “consciousness” to be antithetical ideas.60 The quotes on the previous page suggest that (a) Jung rejects the Indian goal of dissolving ego to merge with Brahman because he believed that this choice flees the dark side of life rather than struggling to integrate it, (b) Jung adheres to attaining spiritual knowledge by facing oneself, (c) he places so much faith in his personal experience of the unconscious and his methods for achieving this that he rejects other methods, and (d) Jung may be inflated in rejecting a meeting with Maharshi. Regarding his refusal to flee the dark side of existence, Jung writes in his memoirs that he was concerned at the time with the psychological nature of evil (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 275) and believed that Indian spirituality aims at emptiness rather than a moral stance that confronts evil (p. 276). Jung theoretically rejects the possibility that one can remain conscious and merge with Brahman. He cites this belief as another reason he avoided visiting Maharshi: Without the Maharshi’s personal ego, which, as a matter of brute experience, only exists in conjunction with the said “clod” (= body), there would be no Shri Ramana at all. Even if we agreed with him that it is no longer his ego, but the atman [sic] speaking, it is still the psychic structure of consciousness in association with the body that makes speech communication possible. Without this admittedly very troublesome physical and psychic man, the self would be entirely without substance . . . . (Jung, 1944/1969, p. 583) In the following quote, Jung rejects a discourse with Maharshi, prejudging the experience. I find this puzzling in someone whose ground-breaking work on the transference and dream interpretation stresses the necessity of the analyst’s unconscious
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This issue is explored in greater detail in Chapter 5, “Individuation.”
99 psyche being activated by the analysand (Jung, 1946/1966), and the need to approach dreams without assumptions (Jung, 1934/1954, p. 147): It is sufficient to read an Upanishad or any discourse of the Buddha. What is heard there is heard everywhere . . . . There is no village or country road where that broad-branched tree cannot be found in whose shade the ego struggles for its own abolition, drowning the world of multiplicity in the All and All-Oneness of Universal Being. This note rang so insistently in my ears that soon I was no longer able to shake off its spell. I was then absolutely certain that no one could ever get beyond this, least of all the Indian holy man himself; and should Shri Ramana say anything that did not chime in with this melody, or claim to know anything that transcended it, his illumination would assuredly be false. The holy man is right when he intones India’s ancient chants, but wrong when he pipes any other tune. This effortless drone of argumentation, so suited to the heat of southern India, made me refrain, without regret, from a visit to Tiruvannamalai. (Jung, 1944/1969, pp. 577-578) Jung insists he knows what would have happened in such a meeting. If he had ventured that conversation, Maharshi might have addressed his doubts directly, reporting from personal experience. The preceding paragraph reflects a lack of openness to the encounter that may reflect inflation. But inflation by itself is not necessarily a defect. Hollie Hannan (personal communication, April 18, 2001) points out that Jung’s own description of the individuation process (see Chapter 5) notes the inflations that accompany and follow contact with archetypal realities. She adds that inflation does not need to be a derogatory characterization but may simply describe an expansion of consciousness. In this sense, expanded awareness that perceives collective realities inflates one’s consciousness beyond the personal sphere. Such a state of expansion may unavoidably conflate the personal and collective sense of self, a phenomenon Jung describes as “contamination” by collective contents (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 504).
100 Jung certainly recognized himself as a person with important insights for his culture.61 In the previous chapter I give an account of Jung’s relationship to Richard Wilhelm, whom he also saw as an important person, a man of stature. Jung had observed that his friend refused to permit intrusion upon “a destiny which will brook no human intervention” (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 377). Some might find evidence for another aspect of inflation showing itself in this instance. For example, Jacobs sees Jung being defensive, justifying “his own inability” by declaring “the true nature of things as inaccessible” (Jacobs, 1961, p. 146). But such a line of inference is too facile. Certainly Jung’s prejudices may have come into play. By the time he presented the 1932 Kundalini seminar, he had formed the opinion that the symbolism of Indian spirituality is like a foreign body, a poison, if lodged in the Western psyche. His basis for that contention was that: (a) he had achieved his own best insights by attending to the autonomous personifications and symbols of his Western psyche, (b) he believed the mystical claim of non-dual consciousness was an artifact of a primitive participation mystique that hypostasizes numinous experiences and carries forward a mythos unchallenged by critical thinking—a contention he later softened, (c) he saw the introversion of Indian spirituality reflected in that country’s neglect of such worldly matters as feeding its population and controlling disease through basic public sanitation, and (d) he had formulated the idea of possession by an archetype and the related concept
About believing himself an important personality for the culture, Jung writes in his memoirs that after his descent into the unconscious, he no longer belonged to himself because he now had direct access to symbolic truths that concerned the collective culture (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 192).
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101 of the mana personality, someone possessed by the magical charisma of the hero archetype. Regarding the last point, although there may have been merit in Jung’s idea that the guru is often more a “type” than an individual, in so hypothesizing, he risked unjustly rejecting those teachers who were not just a type (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, May 7, 2001). However, Jung’s own account describes meetings with Indian spiritual authorities and a disciple of Maharshi (Jung, 1961/1989). Also, he was familiar with Maharshi’s writing, which must have figured in his decision not to meet him, despite Jung’s characterization of Maharshi as being “undoubtedly distinguished.” Jung was near the end of his visit and had pursued a busy itinerary of receiving honoraria. He writes that this itinerary and the “wild sea of new impressions” and “bewildering turmoil” of India where “a bit too much of a good thing.” He badly needed a retreat that he writes, tongue in cheek, was provided by a 10-day stay in a Calcutta hospital recovering from dysentery (p. 280). Yet, he tells us that even if he had returned to India he would not have met with Maharshi (Jung, 1944/1969, p. 578). This last remark brings me back to Jung’s sense of fate, of belonging to his culture, not just to himself. Upon leaving the hospital, he had a fateful dream that emphasized the urgency of his interpreting the Holy Grail found in Western alchemy to a European civilization that was in peril by 1938. According to Jung: Here was this essentially European dream emerging when I had barely worked my way out of the overwhelming mass of Indian impressions . . . . Imperiously, the dream wiped away all the intense impressions of India and swept me back to the too-long-neglected concerns of the Occident, which had formerly been expressed in the quest for the Holy Grail as well as in the search for the philosopher’s stone. I was taken out of the world of India, and reminded that India was not my task, but only a part of the way—admittedly a significant one—which should carry me closer to my goal. It was as though the dream were asking me, “What are you doing in India? Rather than seek for yourself and your fellows the healing vessel,
102 the servator mundi, which you urgently need. For your state is perilous; you are all in imminent danger of destroying all that centuries have built up. (1961/1989, pp. 282-283) The story of his not choosing to visit Sri Ramana Maharshi portrays Jung as a man of human frailty who had been taxed by his visit to India and distracted from his visionary task. Although he was a pioneer of psychology who experienced advanced states of consciousness, he did not fully agree with the claims of India’s living yoga heritage. The remainder of this chapter explores many of the critiques that have been raised about Jung’s encounters with Eastern spirituality. I try to settle some of these controversies with reference to Jung’s own writings and to identify those controversies where analytical psychology or India’s heritage of timeless wisdom (sanatana dharma) may offer insights to each other. Critics and Context This section explores in greater detail some of the issues raised above. The opening of this chapter lists several areas of potential controversy. These include Jung’s (a) lack of a practitioner perspective, (b) warnings that Westerners not practice yoga, (c) scant interpretation of the ajna and sahasrara padmas, (d) rejection of non-dual consciousness, and (e) use of confusing teaching techniques. These critiques and others generally fall into two main categories: 1. Jung is ambivalent toward Eastern spirituality, admiring it at the same time he warns Westerners against attempting its practices. 2. Many critics suggest that Jung does not understand yoga or Eastern spirituality because of a European bias and lack of knowledge.
103 Jung’s Ambivalence Toward Eastern Spirituality Jung had a lifelong interest in Eastern spirituality that began in his childhood. H. G. Coward, in his (1985a) book, Jung and Eastern Thought, suggests that many of the central concepts of analytical psychology derive directly from Indian philosophy. Some who practice Jung’s psychology assert that these concepts probably arose in Jung’s empirical study of the unconscious, and that, at most, he found their parallels in India’s spiritual philosophy (Henderson, cited in Coward, 1985a, p. 62; J. M. Spiegelman personal communication, February 20, 2001). Sonu Shamdasani, a historian who is supportive of analytical psychology, sees validity in both points of view and says: “Certainly, Jung is familiar with some eastern and Gnostic materials by around 1911, and is critically informed by them. But the manner in which he takes them up is far from straightforward” (personal communication, April 13, 2001). Clarke’s position is similar to that of Shamdasani. He writes that Jung’s “close involvement with Eastern thought from about 1912 onwards coincided with the seminal period in the development of his most characteristic ideas, and although it is impossible to specify in detail the exact points and measure of influence, the two appear inextricably intertwined” (1994, p. 199). Jung often revealed an admiration for the spiritual traditions of India and the Far East, admiring the yogic belief in the individual’s capacity for self-liberation, and its view that the unconscious, itself, is liberating, contra the Western fear of the unconscious (Jung, 1954/1969a, pp. 481-482, 484). He also appreciated the richness of Eastern spiritual traditions and their ongoing contact with their ancient roots, compared to the modern West’s spiritual impoverishment. Witness this statement: In the East, the inner man has always had such a firm hold on the outer man that the world had no chance of tearing him away from his inner roots; in the West,
104 the outer man gained the ascendancy to such an extent that he was alienated from his innermost being. (Jung, 1954/1969a, pp. 492-493) In this regard, Jung adds: “What we have to show in the way of spiritual insight and psychological technique must seem, when compared with yoga, just as backward as Eastern astrology and medicine when compared with Western science” (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 487). The ambivalence of his attitude especially shows in his repeated warnings that Westerners refrain from practicing yoga. Such warnings are difficult to understand, given such salutary statements as those just given. They are easier to accept if one knows that Jung encountered casualties of yoga in his clinical practice. Source materials of such knowledge are difficult to come by, however. In an unpublished letter to James Kirsch on March 12, 1932, Jung writes: “These Indian breathing exercises are psychological poison for Europeans" (Jung, 2001). Jung’s unpublished letters may reveal an ambivalent attitude toward yogic breathing that is sometimes positive, although the evidence I have gathered on this point is inconclusive. In the following sentence from an unpublished letter to Gerhard Adler of January 11, 1935, Jung writes: “I apply in corresponding cases breath yoga, though not sitting, but corresponding to the European, in a reclining position, and at first as daily exercises of ten minutes up to a quarter of an hour" (Jung, 2001). However, one cannot know from these brief passages whether Jung refers to similar breathing exercises in both letters, or whether either letter refers to the Indian yogic breath control techniques known as pranayama.
105 A published example of Jung’s respect for yoga practice within limits is found in his account of his personal upheaval between 1913 and 1917. At that time he practiced yoga to recover his equilibrium amidst a flood of symbolic material. He writes that: I was so frequently wrought up that I had to do certain yoga exercises in order to hold my emotions in check. But since it was my purpose to know what was going on within myself, I would do these exercises only until I had calmed myself enough to resume my work with the unconscious. As soon as I had the feeling that I was myself again, I abandoned this restraint upon the emotions and allowed the images and inner voices to speak afresh. The Indian, on the other hand, does yoga exercises in order to obliterate completely the multitude of psychic contents and images. (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 177) Here we see that he was careful not to become so absorbed in yoga practice that he lost contact with the unconscious material that was emerging in his psyche. This personal application of yoga corresponds with his recommendations for Westerners. In another passage of similar import, he recommends yoga for personal hygiene but warns Westerners to not take their practice beyond this (Jung, 1936/1969, p. 535). Let us consider some of Jung’s warnings about practicing yoga. There are many reasons for such warnings beyond his patients’ difficulties that are well documented in Jung’s published works and are examined below. Borelli recognizes six different themes in Jung’s warnings. These are as follows: 1) the observation that some people will do anything to avoid facing themselves; 2) the rebuttal to those critics who charged him with exotic therapeutic techniques; 3) his own theory of the natural course of religious development; 4) the analysis of yoga experience in his own terminology; 5) his view on East-West religious differences; and 6) his belief that the West should develop its own spiritual method for reaching the same goal as yoga. (Borelli, 1985a, p. 80) The first item in this list is that people may practice yoga to avoid facing themselves. One need only consider the many Westerners who adopt a new self-help technique every month and include eastern practices in the search for a panacea. Jung’s warning here is on
106 point: “I am therefore in principle against the uncritical appropriation of yoga practices by Europeans, because I know only too well that they hope to avoid their own dark corners” (Jung, 1943/1969, p. 571). In another passage that addresses Borelli’s items 1 and 4, he writes: Since one cannot detach oneself from something of which one is unconscious, the European must first learn to know his subject. This, in the West, is what one calls the unconscious. Yoga technique applies itself exclusively to the conscious mind and will. Such an undertaking promises success only when the unconscious has no potential worth mentioning, that is to say, when it does not contain large portions of the personality. If it does, then all conscious effort remains futile, and what comes out of this cramped condition of mind is a caricature or even the exact opposite of the intended result. The rich metaphysic and symbolism of the East express the larger and more important part of the unconscious and in this way reduce its potential. (Jung, 1936/1969, p. 535) Differences between East and West. The latter part of the passage just quoted suggests a cultural difference between East and West, with those in Eastern cultures more fully contained by a spirituality that has not become detached from its roots. Jung addresses that East/West difference more fully in the following passage: The collective introverted attitude of the East did not permit the world of the senses to sever the vital link with the unconscious; psychic reality was never seriously disputed despite the existence of so-called materialistic speculations. The only known analogy to this fact is the mental condition of the primitive, who confuses dream and reality in the most bewildering way. Naturally we hesitate to call the Eastern mind primitive, for we are deeply impressed with its remarkable civilization and differentiation. Yet the primitive mind is the matrix, and this is particularly true of that aspect of it which stresses the validity of psychic phenomena, such as relate to ghosts and spirits. The West has simply cultivated the other aspect of primitivity, namely, the scrupulously accurate observation of nature at the expense of abstraction. (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 499) Jung’s preferred method of freeing Western consciousness from the “cramped condition” noted above is the use of active imagination. He writes: Usually, a consciousness is characterized by an intensity and narrowness that have a cramping effect, and this ought not to be emphasized still further. On the
107 contrary, everything must be done to help the unconscious to reach the conscious mind and to free it from its rigidity. For this purpose I employ a method of active imagination, which consists in a special training for switching off consciousness, at least to a relative extent, thus giving the unconscious contents a chance to develop.viii (Jung, cited in Jordens, 1985, pp. 148-149) In active imagination, one experiences unconscious contents and remains engaged with them, unlike Eastern meditation techniques that build concentration while letting unconscious imagery flow by unimpeded, so it does not distract one’s focus. To clarify terms, let us look at what Jung means above by the term primitive. He was influenced by Levy-Bruhl’s ideas about modes of consciousness in primitive societies (Clarke, 1994), but went beyond these to take a nonjudgmental position. Along this line, Jung cites Levy-Bruhl’s characterization of the prelogical person as disregarding “the obvious lessons of experience,” flatly denying “the most evident causal connections, and instead of accounting for things as simply due to chance or on reasonable grounds of causality,” taking “his ‘collective representations’ as being intrinsically valid” (Jung, 1931/1964, p. 51). He adds, however, that primitive thinking differs from ours only in its assumptions (p. 52), and sees wisdom, for instance, in magical beliefs such as omens (p. 54), where a mishap may tell us that we ourselves are out of synch, or a pre-cognitive dream may emerge from the collective psyche that warns of future difficulties (p. 62). As he says above, “the primitive mind is the matrix.” Eastern introversion, Western extraversion. Jung considered Indian culture to be introverted and European culture extraverted. He attributed the extraversion of Western culture to the West’s development of a scientific method that observes and measures external reality (Jung, 1944/1969). This type of generalization has been questioned by Andrew Samuels, who criticizes Jung for attempting to be a psychologist of nations. That
108 criticism is muted by a single footnote where Jung cautions us that “I am purposely leaving out of account the modernized East” (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 480). Another element of extraversion cited by Jung on several occasions is a Western acquisitiveness. He writes that: If we snatch these things directly from the East, we have merely indulged our Western acquisitiveness, confirming yet again that “everything good is outside,” whence it has to be fetched and pumped into our barren souls.vii It seems to me that we have really learned something from the East when we understand that the psyche contains riches enough without having to be primed from outside, and when we feel capable of evolving out of ourselves with or without divine grace. But we cannot embark upon this ambitious enterprise until we have learned to deal with our spiritual pride and blasphemous self-assertiveness. (Jung 1954/1969a, pp. 483-484) In footnote vii cited above, Jung quotes Meister Eckhart’s description of this kind of alienation: “Whereas who holdeth not God as such an inner possession, but with every means must fetch Him from without . . . verily such a man hath Him not, and easily something cometh to trouble him.” Meister Eckhart (Buttner, II, p. 185). Cf. Meister Eckhart, trans. By Evans, II, p. 8. (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 483) Similarly, Jung sees Western conceptual thinking as potentially intrusive compared to a more accepting and inclusive Indian thinking style. In this regard, he writes: Did you ever stop to think how much of the conqueror (not to say thief or robber) lies in that very term “concept”? It comes from the Latin concipere, “to take something by grasping it thoroughly.” That is how we get at the world. But Indian “thinking” is an increase of vision and not a predatory raid into the yet unconquered realms. (Jung, 1939/1964, p. 529) Jung’s own thinking style becomes more inclusive late in life when he acknowledges the psychic reality and inherent value of the experience of non-dual consciousness reported by mystics (Jung, 1963, p. 539).
109 Shamdasani suggests another factor that may have predisposed Jung to see India as introverted, with Indian spirituality attempting to avoid the painful experience of this world and thus ignoring such practicalities as basic sanitation. During his trip to India, Jung suffered from dysentery, which at that time was even more dangerous than it is today. At that time, we did not have the proliferation of antibiotic medications to treat such illnesses. And, it may have been more difficult than it is today to find medical assistance in India (S. Shamdasani, personal communication, November 20, 2000). Jung’s bout with dysentery was sufficiently severe that it required a 10-day hospital stay (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 280). Jacobs attempts to refute Jung’s claim that Indian people are introverted with a limited study of Indian policemen, most of whom were extraverted (Jacobs, 1961). I find Jacobs’ critique interesting but question its validity because it does not study a randomly selected population. More specifically, police officers are more likely to be extraverted than members of a larger society. Western lack of discipline. Another alleged East/West difference commonly found in Jung’s warnings is that Westerners lack the discipline to pursue yoga as intended. In this regard, he writes: I wish particularly to warn against the oft-attempted imitation of Indian practices and sentiments. As a rule nothing comes of it except an artificial stultification of our Western intelligence. Of course, if anyone should succeed in giving up Europe from every point of view, and could actually be nothing but a yogi and sit in the lotus position with all the practical and ethical consequences that this entails, evaporating on a gazelle-skin under a dusty banyan tree and ending his days in nameless non-being, then I should have to admit that such a person understood yoga in the Indian manner. But anyone who cannot do this should not behave as if he did. He cannot and should not give up his Western understanding; on the contrary, he should apply it honestly, without imitation or sentimentality, to understanding as much of yoga as is possible for the Western mind. (Jung, 1943/1969, p. 568)
110 Belief that India lacks critical thinking. This leads us to the difference he perceived between typical Western and Eastern modes of thinking. One of his generalizations about India is that its culture lacks any critical philosophy. He states that “the East has produced nothing equivalent to what we call psychology, but rather philosophy or metaphysics. Critical philosophy, the mother of modern psychology, is as foreign to the East as to medieval Europe” (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 475). In an earlier text he makes this point in a more balanced fashion: India is not ungrateful to her master minds. There is a considerable revival of interest in classical philosophy. Universities like Calcutta and Benares have important philosophy departments. Yet the main emphasis is laid on classical Hindu philosophy and its vast Sanskrit literature. (Jung, 1939/1964, p. 526) Clarke disagrees with Jung on this point. He writes that Jung fails to take account of dialectical traditions in Indian philosophy such as that of the Buddhist Madhyamaka and the development of Buddhist logic. As the Indian philosopher B. K. Matilal complains: “too often the term ‘Indian Philosophy’ is identified with a subject that is presented as mystical and non-argumentative, that is at best poetic and at worst dogmatic. A corrective to this view is long overdue’ (1986: 4-5).iv (Clarke, 1994, p. 162) Jung’s belief that India lacks critical philosophy corresponds with his statement that India’s spirituality is pre-Kantian in that it allegedly fails to recognize that human perception of reality cannot be unconditioned as is claimed by India’s spiritual adepts. This critique may be well-taken in cases where yoga practitioners reify their experiences. Omniscience not possible. In the terms of sanatana dharma, India’s traditional wisdom teaching, supersensuous knowledge is gained via prathiba, unlimited omniscience, and is called prajna, knowledge of essence without falsehood. Prathiba is achieved through concentration in which we perceive without the intervention of
111 vyutthana62 samskaras, subliminal activators formed from our conditioned worldly experience, including word labels for that experience (Coward, 1985a, pp. 68-74; Feuerstein, 2000, p. 258). According to Coward, Jung rejects the idea of omniscience through the destruction of this type of samskara (Coward, 1985a, p. 68). Here is an example given by Jung: I do not doubt the existence of mental states transcending consciousness. But they lose their consciousness to exactly the same degree that they transcend consciousness. I cannot imagine a conscious mental state that does not relate to a subject, that is, to an ego. The ego may be depotentiated—divested, for instance, of its awareness of the body—but so long as there is awareness of something, there must be somebody who is aware. (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 484) Spiegelman and Vasavada respond that one does not need the involvement of the ego and its dualities to perceive, and that the transcendent perception in a non-dual consciousness may occur as perception via the self (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 64, 67). Another report that contradicts Jung is that of Gopi Krishna (1967), who wrote verses in languages with which he was unfamiliar, a form of omniscience that I report in Chapter 7. In a related critique, Jacobs faults Jung for not acknowledging the need to cultivate control of the mind through meditation that penetrates to the essence of the senses (Jacobs, 1961, p. 146). Jung had decided that one could not perceive without the agency of the self-sense, or ego, and had thus concluded that “the Eastern intellect is underdeveloped when
Feuerstein cites two kinds of subliminal activators, or samskaras, as described in the Yoga Sutras of Patanjali. Vyutthana samskaras lead to externalization of consciousness and nirodha samskaras cause the inhibition of conscious processes, preventing the generation of vyutthana samskaras, helping one achieve samadhi. He adds that “at the highest level of conscious ecstasy . . . [samprajnata-samadhi], a subliminal activator is generated that obstructs all others and leads over into the condition of superconscious ecstasy [asamprajnata-samadhi]” (Feuerstein, 2000, p. 258).
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112 compared with the Western intellectcvi” (Coward, 1985a, p. 74). However, a visit to Sri Ramana Maharshi might have revealed an alternative point of view that the ego is said to disappear when the discursive mind goes quiet through training in intense concentration. That disappearance of ego does not signal its annihilation, but rather its sublimation, so that the adept’s orientation to the body enables the adept to speak and navigate the material world. Yet, the adept’s actions may be spontaneously guided by the self, which finds its expression in the world without selfish attachments. Alan Watts notes the mystic sublimation of the ego and suggests that the Western misunderstanding of this experience is an artifact of unexamined Western subjectpredicate syntax (Clarke, 1994, p. 173). In other words, our language includes the presupposition that we are separate from objects of our attention and have causal effects on these objects. Western alienation. One of the central distinctions Jung draws between East and West is his belief that we in the West have been cut off from our roots compared to an ancient Indian culture that remains connected to its primitive matrix. He writes: Our western [sic] evolution from a primitive level was suddenly interrupted by the invasion of a psychology and spirituality belonging to a much higher level of civilization…. We were stopped in the midst of a still barbarous polytheism, which was eradicated or suppressed in the course of centuries and not so very long ago…. Our mental existence was transformed into something which it had not yet reached and which it could not truly be. And this could only be brought about by a dissociation between the conscious part of the mind and the unconscious. It was a liberation of consciousness from the burden of irrationality and instinctive impulsiveness at the expense of the totality of the individual . . . . the conscious personality could be domesticated, because it was separated from the natural and primitive man. Thus we became highly disciplined, organized, and rational on one side, but the other side remained a suppressed primitive, cut off from education and civilization. This explains our many relapses into the most appalling barbarity. (Jung, 1939/1964, p. 527)
113 The preceding quote shows that Jung sees European culture cut off at the roots through his evolutionary model of religious forms that is described below.63 He believed that religion evolved through the following historical stages:64 1. In so-called primitive religions there is no difference between the human external or internal environment. The gods live in fearful, mysterious, far-away places. 2. The powers of the gods draw together into one god or divine couple. 3. God is incarnated in an avatar, such as Jesus or Buddha. 4. Religion addresses abstract ideas, such as seen in Vedanta. According to this model, Europeans are not ready for yoga, which is level 4 (Borelli, 1985a, p. 84). Borelli notes that Oskar Schmitz saw Christianity (level 3) grafted onto a polytheistic barbarian culture (level 1) and proposes allowing level 1 to emerge to continue that race’s religious development (Borelli, 1985a, p. 83). Borelli adds that recent research has disconfirmed item 4, which does not necessarily evolve at a later time than other modalities (Borelli, 1985a, p. 83). Jung’s generalizations about East/West differences have attracted criticism that he stepped beyond the bounds of his specialty when he attempted to be a psychologist of nations (Samuels, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 164). That attempt is easier to understand when one considers that Jung wrote the passage above about primitive humanity in 1939. He was strongly influenced by his observations of World War I and his intuitions and
I present another version of the evolution of religious forms in Chapter 6, “Subtle Body,” when discussing Gebser’s account of the evolution of soul (Gebser 19491953/1985). Here, Jung followed a line of thinking of intellectual forebears, including Hegel, who classified evolving categories of religion (Schwab, 1950/1984, p. 456).
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114 misgivings about the rise of Nazism (Jung, 1936/1964, 1945/1964, 1961/1989). J. W. Hauer, his collaborator in the Kundalini seminar, was included in those misgivings.65 Jung often stresses the schism between the European mind and spirit, and believes that people of the West have thus become alienated from the primitive roots that are the matrix of aliveness. He sees the importation of Greek philosophy during Europe’s 15thcentury Renaissance helping propel the Protestant revolt against the Roman Catholic Church, dividing Christianity into hundreds of denominations. This undermining of church authority left many with a need for authoritative spiritual guidance. More than a few sought answers in Eastern religions that had captured widespread European attention by the nineteenth century. Now the burden of authority fell on the individual who had no easy answers. The Italian Renaissance also engendered the rise of Western science (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985; Bordo, 1987; Romanyshyn, 1989), which widened the chasm created by the Catholic Church’s insistence on its authority as mediator between the faithful and their Holy Trinity, itself split off from its dark and feminine aspects. Neither Europe’s newly formulated rationalism nor its faith in God’s goodness could contain numinous experience. Jung writes that yoga seemed to fit the European need for a religious method reconciled with science. Yoga’s profound philosophy certainly brings
One of Jung’s better attempts at national psychologizing is seen in his “Wotan” essay cited immediately above (Jung, 1936/1964). Writing about a culture whose primordial roots are familiar, Jung portrays J. W. Hauer, his collaborator in the Kundalini seminar, as a man seized by the rising influence of Wotan, the god of storm, frenzy, and the hunt. In Hauer’s founding and promotion of the German Faith Movement, Jung sees the conscientious scholar caught up in a fateful moment of history, a kairos, with Hauer failing to recognize his tragic and heroic possession by the Wotan archetype in the guise of God. Jung himself had overcome the temptations of the hero archetype when he killed the Germanic hero Siegfried during Jung’s descent into the unconscious (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 180).
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115 the feminine to the fore, a compensation much needed in the West, which only recently responded with the Catholic Church’s annunciation of Mary (Jung, 1954/1969a, 1954/1969b). It also transcends good and evil, compared to the Christian alienation from negative aspects of the self that Jung seeks to integrate. And, its adepts report and demonstrate by their presence their contact with the numinosum. 66 It is in this general sense that Jung says in the Kundalini seminar that Europeans live at ajna (the brow chakra) at the sthula (gross) level via materialistic thinking and muladhara (root chakra related to the earth element) at the suksma (subtle), psychological level, whereas Westerners remain primitive. He contrasts this with Indians living in muladhara at the sthula level and ajna at the suksma level, implying that their worldly life is primitive, whereas their psychological existence is transcendent (Coward, 1985a, pp. 115, 188; Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987; Jung, 1996). Is yoga incompatible with the Western psyche? Jung sees a danger, however, in yoga’s appeal to Westerners. He believes yoga is incompatible with the European psyche because adopting its practices further alienates Europeans from their roots. He writes that the European’s task is to find the natural man again. Instead of this, there is nothing he likes better than systems and methods by which he can repress the natural man who is
The numinosum is defined by Gebser as a “vital experience: religious ‘trembling,’ tremendum, the awe and thrill of man’s encounter with the ‘completely other.’ . . . ‘Numinous,’ derived from [the] Latin numen, ‘divine power or rule,’ is an articulation of the prerational and irrational components of religious ‘holiness’ and is primarily concerned with the vital experience rather than any valuative or ethical category.” Contrary to widespread belief, the term, numinosum, was originally coined by Zinzendorf in his “Natural Thoughts on the Nature of Religion,” published in 1745, not by Rudolph Otto, who omitted citing that source in his book, The Idea of the Holy (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 193; Otto, 1923/1958).
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116 everywhere at cross purposes with him. He will infallibly make a wrong use of yoga because his psychic disposition is quite different from that of the Oriental. (Jung, 1936/1969, p. 534) Then Jung states his case in rhetorical form: An Indian guru can explain everything and you can imitate everything. But do you know who is applying the yoga? In other words, do you know who you are and how you are constituted?67 (Jung, 1936/1969, p. 534) He contrasts a Western misappropriation of yoga with the application of yoga techniques within the Indian culture, where yoga’s methods are grounded in the Indian worldview. In that instance, prana is both the breath and the universal dynamics of the cosmos. When the doing of the individual is at the same time a cosmic happening, the elation of the body (innervation) becomes one with the elation of the spirit (the universal idea), and from this there arises a living whole which no technique, however scientific, can hope to produce . . . . In the East, where these ideas and practices originated, and where an uninterrupted tradition extending over some four thousand years has created the necessary spiritual conditions, yoga is, as I can readily believe, the perfect and appropriate method of fusing body and mind together so that they form a unity that can hardly be doubted . . . . The Indian mentality has no difficulty in operating intelligently with a concept like prana. The West, on the contrary, with its habit of wanting to believe on the one hand, and its highly developed scientific and philosophical critique on the other, finds itself in a real dilemma. Either it falls into the trap of faith and swallows concepts like prana, atman, chakra, samadhi, etc., without giving them a thought, or its scientific critique repudiates them one and all as “pure mysticism.” The split in the Western mind therefore makes it impossible at the outset for the intentions of yoga to be realized in any adequate way . . . . The Indian can forget neither the body nor the mind, while the European is always forgetting either the one or the other. For the Indian, it comes as a blessing to know a method which helps him to control the supreme power of nature within and without. For the European, it is sheer poison to suppress his nature, which is warped enough as it is, and to make out of it a willing robot. (Jung, 1936/1969, p. 533) In this passage we see Borelli’s categories 1 and 5. Jung is arguing that, as Borelli puts it, “some people will do anything to avoid facing themselves,” and is influenced by
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The quotation marks are used by Jung to set apart his rhetorical questions.
117 his views of the cultural differences between East and West (Borelli, 1985a, p. 80). I see the Jung of 1936 who wrote that essay adhering perhaps too strongly to a rationalism that is needed to defend his formulation of the transcendent function68 against critics that accused him of mysticism. A subtle defensive posture such as this restrains the lid of the Pandora’s box that could open should he suggest that a Westerner might hold both Indian mysticism and Western rationalism as potentially valid, evolving worldviews. Then the transcendent function might respond to the seemingly incompatible opposition with an evolving solution that honors symbolic experience over-reliance upon the superior function (whether thinking, feeling, sensation, or intuition), that one uses most easily to negotiate the world. Jung concludes his “Yoga and the West” essay (1936/1969) with a statement that reveals his admiration of yoga and his belief that the West needs to develop its own yoga for the reasons given above: If I remain so critically averse to yoga, it does not mean that I do not regard this spiritual achievement of the East as one of the greatest things the human mind has ever created. I hope my exposition makes it sufficiently clear that my criticism is directly solely against the application of yoga to the peoples of the West . . . . No insight is gained by repressing and controlling the unconscious, and least of all by imitating methods which have grown up under totally different psychological conditions. In the course of the centuries the West will produce its own yoga, and it will be on the basis laid down by Christianity. (Jung, 1936/1969, p. 537)
Jung describes the transcendent function as a process and method whereby one does not suppress seemingly incompatible contents but suffers the conflict between them with patience. This forbearance allows the unconscious to constellate a symbol that compensates the conflict and confronts the conscious mind with a new aspect of the psyche. His formulation thus rests upon acceptance of a collective unconscious that is capable of offering autonomous compensation to a person’s conscious contents and is not a mere residue of personal experiences. Some consider this description of the unconscious to be a mystical concept and thus reject it (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 489).
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118 As a person of European Jewish ancestry, I find Jung’s final sentence a bit strong. Does the West need to produce a yoga on the basis of a Christianity that has lost its hold on many of the faithful? I believe we need to integrate the Christian influence in which our culture is rooted. In another text written in 1931, Jung does make clear his belief that the crucial difference between East and West is only one of culture. Since there is one earth and one mankind, East and West cannot rend humanity into two different halves. Psychic reality still exists in its original oneness, and awaits man’s advance to a level of consciousness where he no longer believes in the one part and denies the other, but he recognizes both as constituents of one psyche.xvii (Jung, 1931/1960, p. 354, cited in Borelli, 1985a, pp. 89-90) He is also clear that the difference is not racial when he says that “’somewhere you are the same as the Negro or the Chinese . . . . In the collective unconscious you are the same as a man of another race’ (CW18.93)” (Jung, “The Tavistock Lectures,” cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 65). However, he clearly retains a Western consciousness. In this sense, Clarke (1994) calls Jung a dedicated hermeneut because he maintains his perspective while exploring others. Was Jung hampered by a European bias? The many references to the terms, Eastern, Western, and Oriental, above, require closer examination, according to many critics who allege that a strong European bias clouds Jung’s hermeneutics, and thus his understanding of Eastern spiritual practices. An extensive review of Jung’s collected works, seminars, and letters suggests that he had much less of a Euro-centric bias than many assert. Clarke (1994) acknowledges that Jung was a hermeneutically oriented researcher. As noted above, although Jung is
119 influenced by the theories of Levy-Bruhl about primitive societies, he demonstrates a respect for so-called primitive peoples by attributing their worldviews to different assumptions than Europeans. Similarly, he examines the assumptions of other cultural traditions to understand their respective worldviews. I quote Jung earlier in this chapter to show that he is at least as critical of European and Western culture as he is of the East. Several themes run throughout Jung’s critique of Eastern thought that inhere in a European consciousness: 1. Early in his career, he is greatly influenced by the psychological relativism of Immanuel Kant and thus holds that we cannot directly perceive reality, but that such perception is mediated by mental preconceptions and the senses. Late in life, and after his own encounter with death, he softens his position and acknowledges the psychic reality of unitary experience. 2. He honors the West’s development of scientific thinking, although he finds that European culture had split off mystical experience from the scientific method because such experiences cannot be easily measured69 or otherwise found to have causal inceptions. He does, however, propose concepts, such as synchronicity and the psychoid nature of the unconscious, that suggest correspondences between the acausal nature of mystical experiences and post-Newtonian physics. He both acknowledges and critiques the pioneering parapsychological research of J. B. Rhine (Jung, 1952/1960). He also corresponded with Rhine (Jung, 1973-1975, pp. 180, 495).
In Chapter 8, I present a brief overview of research that appears to verify the existence and transformations of the human subtle body. That research is being conducted by many investigators who are finding similar correlations using different modalities to sense and measure human aura phenomena.
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120 3. He promotes the development of individual identity that finds its cultural inception in the Italian Renaissance. He never retreats from the scientific thinking that began its ascendancy at that time, although he acknowledges that thinking is also a symbolic inception. 4. He attempts to reconcile the European split between reason and soul by honoring his personal, numinous experience of individuation. That experience is verified by many centuries of pre-scientific alchemical thinking.70 He reasons that personal experiences of the numinous bring forth symbolic images that empirically exist as psychological reality. He found such symbolic images in his experiences, those of his patients, and the myths and fairytales of many cultures. Jung builds his psychological edifice upon these four71 principles because he seeks greater wholeness as the goal of individuation. However, as a European intellectual of his time he and his forebears are influenced by what Edgar Quinet terms “the Oriental Renaissance.” That renaissance swept through Europe starting with the arrival of the first authentic Sanskrit texts in 1784 (Schwab, 1950/1984). These texts greatly influenced thinkers who were studied by Jung. People interested in these translations included Schilling, Fichte, Hegel, Schopenhauer, Schliermacher, Goethe, Schiller, Novalis, Tieck, Brentano, and Schlegel (p. 53). Jung acknowledges a special
I explore the development of Jung’s individuation construct out of his personal experience and his correlation of individuation with Western alchemy in the next two chapters. I am interested to find four assumptions underlying Jung’s psychological and cultural orientation, because he attributed wholeness to the number four through his interpretation of the alchemical principle, the Axiom of Maria Prophetissa. This axiom is discussed at length in Chapter 6, “Subtle Body.”
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121 affinity for Goethe (Jung, 1961/1989), who, like Jung, had misgivings about the alien nature of India’s sacred texts (Schwab, 1950/1984). The Oriental Renaissance was a new phase of a 3,000-year cross-fertilization (Needham, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 8). Evidence for that cross-fertilization includes discovery of an ivory carving of an Indian god in Pompeii (Schwab, 1950/1984, p. 117). The dialog gained momentum during Jesuit missions of the late 16th century (Clarke, 1994, p. 29). It blossomed into a renaissance, or rebirth, for a Europe that suffered a spiritual/scientific split that started in the Italian Renaissance of classical Greek and Roman culture. The Oriental Renaissance answered a metaphysical thirst borne of Europe’s dry rationalism (p. 31) and was pursued by those seeking the origins of civilization, shifting their focus from Egypt to India (Schwab, 1950/1084, p. 71). It also inspired the proto-romantic sturm und drang (storm and stress) movement championed by Goethe in the 1770s. However, Goethe’s misgivings and those later expressed by Jung suggest that this cultural exchange was not easy for East or West. Schwab writes that “at its beginning the Indo-European dialogue was something like one between two well-intentioned deaf people” (p. 133). Scwhab saw two initial barriers to communication: The one was intolerance, which caused the Westerners to lash out against some huge shocks: the widow’s funeral pyre, child marriages, the taboo regarding cows, the perpetuity of castes, and so forth. The other was complaisance, which caused them to gloss over rigorous dogmatic distinctions. (Schwab, 1950/1984, p. 133) Edward Said, who can tend to argue aggressively for political purposes (S. Shamdasani, personal communication, September 28, 2000; J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, May 7, 2000) is more sanguine in his critique of the West’s Orientalism. He attributes imperialist motives that are not so well-intentioned and writes that
122 Orientalism is not simply a projection of the West. It is also a will to dominate and govern (Said, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 18). He coins the term enclavism, which he defines as “a more or less conscious and systematic tendency to erect obstacles to inter-cultural communication.” Here, “´enclave’ means literally ‘locked in.’” There is ample historical evidence for Said’s claim that the West’s greed and religious intolerance shaped its Orientalism (including, for example, the English empire’s sovereignty over the Indian subcontinent that only ended in the mid-twentieth century). Said adds that a monolithic “Orient” or “East” is a Western idea, and that the “Orient” is in fact many cultures, a fact often overlooked by Europeans (Said, 1978, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 14). This tendency is seen in Jung’s lumping together of many Eastern spiritual practices and calling them, “yoga.” Borelli writes in this regard that: Very often Jung made general comments on several Eastern systems of thought or stated a feature of one Eastern religious tradition which he believed to be also true of others. A case in point is the imprecision of his use of the term “yoga,” by which he generally meant any Eastern spirituality in some contexts. (Borelli, 1985b, p. 191) Some critics allege that Jung is bound up in European cultural and religious prejudices against Eastern cultures (Borelli, 1985a; Jacobs, 1961). For example, Borelli writes that Jung stereotypes the Eastern mind as introverted. He adds that Jung characterizes spirit as a given cosmic principle discovered through interiorizing exercises, contrasted with the Western mind’s extraverted, scientific, and rational tendencies (Borelli, 1985a, pp. 87-88). However, Jung’s writings taken as a whole show that he does not prefer West over East, nor does he prefer Christianity over Eastern religions. He writes about the poverty of Western spiritual technology versus that of the East (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 487), and he sees the need for people steeped in these respective cultures
123 to remain connected with their cultural archetypes. It is in this sense that Jung writes: “You cannot be a good Christian and redeem yourself, nor can you be a Buddha and worship God” (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 483). He is certainly critical of the West and its materialism, as seen in the following passage: The critical philosophy of science became as it were negatively metaphysical—in other words, materialistic—on the basis of an error in judgment; matter was assumed to be a tangible and recognizable reality. Yet this is a thoroughly metaphysical concept hypostatized by uncritical minds. Matter is an hypothesis. When you say “matter,” you are really creating a symbol for something unknown, which may just as well be “spirit” or anything else; it may even be God. Religious faith, on the other hand, refuses to give up its pre-critical Weltanschauung [worldview]. (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 477) As cited earlier in this chapter, Jung also sees Western thinking as overly aggressive, versus a more inclusive Eastern style. Jung is frequently accused of criticizing Easterners for not learning to think the way Europeans do. The following quote shows that criticism to be valid, yet Jung’s position is asserted while acknowledging advantages to what he sees as India’s “notthinking”: I could just as well say: Thank heaven there is a man left who has not learned to think, but is still able to perceive his thoughts, as if they were visions or living things; a man who has transformed, or is still going to transform, his gods into visible thoughts based upon the reality of the instincts. He has rescued his gods, and they live with him. It is true that it is an irrational life, full of crudeness, gruesomeness, misery, disease, and death, yet somehow complete, satisfactory and of an unfathomable emotional beauty. (Jung, 1939/1964, p. 529) Clarke writes that Jung’s overall style is that of a hermeneut, exploring other cultural/historical perspectives from his own acknowledged position as a European. Clarke’s position seems well taken when he faults Jung for relying too much on drawing
124 analogies because analogy is too crude a tool for penetrating to the archetypal roots of another culture (Clarke, 1994, pp. 167-168). My reading of Jung’s orientation to Eastern and Indian thought shows a brilliant visionary who clings to the method that brought his own deepest insights. I show in the next chapter that Jung was assaulted by unconscious contents for several years after his break with Freud, and that he maintained his sanity by relating to those contents as a separate individual, while also respecting their symbolic commentary about his personal state of being (Jung, 1961/1989). He sees this maintenance of the ego as essential for safeguarding sanity and incarnating a human being who remains related to the material world. Defending against accusations of mysticism. Borelli finds that one reason Jung warns Westerners against practicing yoga is to defend himself against critics who might otherwise accuse Jung of mysticism. Here, Jung appears defensive against the inertia of a European status quo. Borelli cites a passage from Psychology and Alchemy (Jung, 1968/1980) where Jung denies using yoga technique with himself or patients (Borelli, 1985a, p. 82). However, Jung admits using breath yoga in his clinical practice and yoga in his private life, as noted earlier in this chapter. His denials in the face of facts later admitted support Borelli’s attribution of a defensive purpose for such warnings. Only in his later writings does Jung formulate the reasoned arguments for the psychoid nature of the unconscious discussed in Chapter 3. His psychoid construct questions the logicalpositivist beliefs of the so-called Enlightenment of the West. Using his own terminology to analyze yoga. Borelli’s item 4 lists Jung’s application of his own terminology to analyze yoga. A full example of that is seen in
125 Chapter 3, where Jung employs Kundalini yoga symbolism to amplify the individuation process. I note in that chapter that the explanation of one new system, in this case, individuation, with another little-known system, Kundalini yoga, is inherently confusing. This may be more a matter of appearance than reality in the Kundalini seminar because Jung’s audience was quite familiar with his psychology. He may not have anticipated that people less familiar with his work might one day read his seminar comments in print— certainly not readers who were not pre-screened, advanced students of analytical psychology. Danger of psychosis. Borelli (1985a) misses one crucial reason for Jung’s warnings. I note above Jung’s concern for Westerners practicing yogic breathing. In more general terms, Jung sees a danger that is recognized by a number of Eastern spiritual teachers. Following is a warning he issues specifically against Kundalini yoga in his commentary on the Bardo Thodol, which Evans-Wentz (Rinpoche, 1957) translates as The Tibetan Book of the Dead, or The after-death experiences on the bardo plane. Contemporary Tibetans translate the title of that work as The Great Liberation through Hearing in the Bardo (Rinpoche, 1975) or The Tibetan Book of Being and Becoming (Sogyal, 1992). (Just the difference in translated titles highlights the critique by Clarke (1994) and others that Jung was often commenting upon poorly translated texts, some of them of uncertain origin.) Clarke (1994, pp. 155-156) also recognizes that Jung warns about a risk of psychosis for Western practitioners of yoga. According to Jung: One often hears and reads about the dangers of yoga, particularly of the illreputed kundalini [sic] yoga. The deliberately induced psychotic state, which in certain unstable individuals might easily lead to a real psychosis, is a danger that needs to be taken very seriously indeed. These things really are dangerous and ought not to be meddled with in our typically Western way. It is a meddling with fate, which strikes at the very roots of human existence and can let loose a flood
126 of sufferings of which no sane person ever dreamed. These sufferings correspond to the hellish torments of the Chonyid state. (Jung, 1953/1969, p. 520) Jung describes that state as: a disintegration of the wholeness of the Bardo body, which is a kind of “subtle body” constituting the visible envelope of the psychic self in the after-death state. The psychological equivalent of this dismemberment is psychic dissociation. In its deleterious form it would be schizophrenia (split mind). This most common of all mental illnesses consists essentially in a marked abaissement du niveau mental72 which abolishes the normal checks imposed by the conscious mind and thus gives unlimited scope to the play of the unconscious “dominants.” (1953/1969, p. 520) By “dominants,” Jung means in this passage, “archetypes.” The equivalence of these terms is established in prior pages of the same text. Jung’s colorful warning about the potential for a flooding of unconscious contents with specific references to Kundalini yoga and Tantric Buddhism supports Shamdasani’s contention, noted above, that Jung encountered Western people in extreme psychic distress following intensive yoga practices. It also suggests that Jung clinically observed a process described by Joan Harrigan the upsurge of unconscious material that often accompanies a deflected Kundalini rising. In such a case, the upsurge of unconscious material occurs without the psychological stability and extreme clarity achieved by someone who has attained makara point in the upper ajna center. Upon attaining makara point, the unconscious unloads efficiently and the person resides more readily in the attitude of a witness, less disturbed by the previously unconscious material. After attaining this point, Kundalini Shakti works Her way through brain centers that correspond with the chakras. The practitioner experience an entrainment between Kundalini, which remains at makara
Jung characterizes abaissement du niveau mental as an unconscious withdrawal of libido from the conscious world (Jung, 1942/1966b, p. 215).
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127 point and above, and whichever chakra corresponds with the brain centers She is purifying. This entrainment induces the surfacing of psychological issues and related somatic symptoms traditionally associated73 with each specific chakra. The effect is an unloading of psychological baggage that is more than the equivalent of a thorough psychoanalysis. Prior preparation, expert guidance, and qualities related to the attainment of makara assist the practitioner in not overly identifying with the surfaced material that seems to rush forth on its own accord so that attachment such psychological issues can be let go (J. S. Harrigan, personal communications, October 21, 2000 and July 17, 2001). This psychological unloading phenomenon is treated more fully in Chapter 7, “Kundalini Yoga.” Does Jung Understand Yoga? Many commentators criticize Jung for not understanding yoga, especially since he was not a practitioner. I note above that Jung did practice hatha yoga to an extent, yet he himself admits that he adapted yoga techniques toward his own ends, contrary to its traditional aim of dissolving identification with one’s ego (Jung, 1961/1989). He punctuates this point by saying, tongue in cheek: “I must confess to my shame that I owe my best insights (and there are some quite good ones among them) to the circumstance that I have always done just the opposite of what the rules of yoga prescribe” (Jung, 1936/1969, p. 534).
The association of psychological issues to particular chakras seems to be experientially true to many meditators and is supported by Jung’s Kundalini seminar discussion about the types of consciousness that seem related, cross-culturally, to the belly, heart, and head (Jung, 1996).
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128 Clarke (1994) sees this lack of a practitioner’s perspective as a flaw in Jung’s hermeneutics. Sonu Shamdasani again suggests that the matter may not be so simple because Jung apparently did consult yoga practitioners (personal communication, November 20, 2000). Jung’s published works reveal that such practitioners included a disciple of Sri Ramana Maharshi (Jung, 1944/1969), an unnamed “sage” in Konarak, India, and, among others, a “highly cultivated elderly Indian” and friend of Gandhi. The inner guru of that elderly friend was none other than Shankaracharya, the legendary and long-deceased founder of Advaita Vedanta. In his encounter with that gentleman, Jung indicated that he was aware of Shankaracharya’s historical status (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 184). The steady contact with one’s inner guru that Jung shared with his Indian friend suggests that both had achieved contact with their inner lineage. According to Joan Harrigan, one gains a steady consciousness of that lineage after achieving a Kundalini rising to the upper ajna center (personal communication, October 21, 2000). The idea that Jung achieved at least a scholarly understanding of yoga practice is supported by his detailed account of Tantric Buddhist and Kundalini yoga practices in his “Indian Parallels” lecture of October 11, 1930. Notes from that lecture are reprinted in the recent book edition of Jung’s 1932 Kundalini seminar (Jung, 1931/1996). He openly admits during the Kundalini seminar that because he does not practice within the yoga tradition, he refrains from interpreting what yoga means for Eastern practitioners (Jung, 1996). Jung is widely criticized for suggesting that the state of superconcentration in meditation known as samadhi in which the ego goes quiet is equal to sleep. Clarke writes of this issue:
129 Thus he spoke of yoga as “a method by which libido is ‘systematically introverted’”, causing the subject to “sink into the unconscious”, its ultimate aim being the dissolution of the ego into the universal Ground!Brahman (CW6.1902). And elsewhere he spoke of the goal of yoga as “the void of deep sleep”, an “autohypnotic condition, which removes [one] from the world and its illusions” (Letters I, 1942: 311). (Clarke, 1994, p. 172) Jacobs (1961, p. 149 ) writes that in deep meditation one can overcome distinctions between waking and sleeping. An encounter with Maharshi might have helped Jung see an alternative. Maharshi reportedly achieved liberation in the body, jivanmukti, and was very much alive with transcendence his everyday state of being (Torwesten, 1985/1991). Rather than withdrawing from the world and avoiding ethical choices, Maharshi taught disciples. One of his core teachings was a continual warning to remain aware of one’s subjectivity and not drift off into yogic sleep. Recognizing the same danger as Jung, Maharshi writes: When no suitable guide is available to the practitioner, it sometimes happens that he ends up deceiving himself and falling victim to the illusion of liberation . . . . This is why the practitioner must carefully watch his progress on the spiritual path. He must not fall under the spell of the silenced mind; the moment he succumbs to it, he must rouse his awareness and inwardly ask: ‘Who is it who experiences this silence? . . . ’ The melting down of the mind is a sign that one has come perceptibly nearer the goal, but also the point at which the path divides: one path leads on to liberation, the other to deep yoga sleep. (Sri Ramana Maharshi, cited in Torwesten, 1985/1991, p. 60) In a passage related to this discussion of whether samadhi is a living liberation or an escape, Jung writes that the notion of liberation from all duality inevitably depreciates and abolishes “the physical and psychic man (i.e., of the living body and ahamkara) in favour of the pneumatic man” (Jung, 1944/1969, pp. 583-584). In this passage, “ahamkara” is ego-sense and “pneumatic,” which designates the breath-soul (see Chapter 6), is spirit at a distance from this world. This critique of Jung’s may be influenced by his idea of the Indian’s introversion, corresponding with neglect of the material world and
130 the body. Yet, yoga attends to the body in ways not addressed by analytical psychology. My personal encounters with a liberated master of Tibet, His Holiness, Gyalwa Karmapa XVI, revealed a loving dedication to helping his disciples achieve the transcendent bliss he had achieved. Jung’s appraisal of satori, the enlightenment experience of Zen Buddhism, is salutary and may reflect his more positive evaluation of Japanese civilization, where extreme poverty and the risk of contracting dysentery are far less common. But to attribute his interpretation of satori to these outer characteristics alone is unfair. Jung’s reading of D. T. Suzuki’s writings about Zen Buddhism reveal a phenomenon much closer to his own attempt to penetrate to natural roots. He writes that: When one reads the Zen texts attentively, one cannot escape the impression that, however bizarre, satori is a natural occurrence . . . . Just as the ego is a certain experience I have of myself, so is the self an experience of my ego. It is, however, no longer experienced in the form of a broader or higher ego, but in the form of a non-ego . . . . The occurrence of satori is interpreted and formulated as a breakthrough, by a consciousness limited to the ego-form, into the non-ego-like self. This view is in accord not only with the essence of Zen, but also with the mysticism of Meister Eckhart. (Jung, 1939/1969, pp. 542-543) In his last major work, after surviving his own visionary encounter with death, Jung wrote about the breakthrough of Meister Eckhart and acknowledged the empirical reality of mystical states of unity. He equates samadhi and satori and places these experiences beyond the reach of rational interpretation (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, pp. 539540). I review his changing orientation toward non-dual states more fully in Chapter 6, “Subtle Body.” I now address Jung’s scant interpretation of the ajna chakra and sahasrara padma in the Kundalini seminar. Spiegelman wonders whether Jung would have taught his Kundalini seminar differently in later years, offering more satisfactory interpretations of
131 these energy centers.74 Spiegelman ventures a guess that Jung might have emphasized “the paradoxical nature of the experience wherein the ego is both totally relativized and ‘nothing,’ yet it is the ‘all’ which is flooded with Brahman and, therefore, ‘everything.’” He adds that in the psychological seminar of 1932 on Kundalini yoga, Jung “is trying mightily to remain empirical, conceptual, comparative” (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 56-57). Spiegelman takes up the challenge of further interpreting the ajna chakra and a lotus between ajna and sahasrara as seats of manas, or subtle mind. He discusses the confluence of symbolic and literal realities in the perceptions of the Indian yogin whose mind has not split spiritual and material realities. Spiegelman notes achievement at ajna and the “minor” lotus above it of one of the central goals of the yogin, the closing of “’the house which hangs without support.’” That symbolism means “the mind’s connection with the outer world has been removed and he is in connection with the infinite” (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, p. 55). To interpret this passage without spatial referents, the yogin relinquishes attachment to the senses, a requirement for achieving the deep concentration known as samadhi (Goswami, 1999). Spiegelman’s psychological interpretation of the sahasrara padma suggests that we would do better not to assert, as Jung did, that it is not practical for us to interpret sahasrara. He writes that we would be more honest to “assert that this goes beyond our understanding” (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, p. 59). He credits Jung for showing in his later years that the symbolism of alchemy “was the attempt to both produce and explain the experience of a Self which is non-producible and unexplainable.” Spiegelman
Spiegelman’s account (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987) summarizes highlights of the Avalon (1913/1972) translation of Sat-Cakra-Nirupana and offers an alternative view of the unitary consciousness described therein.
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132 adds that “if we are modest enough, we too can glimpse that which is being described and asserted” (p. 59). In Chapter 6, below, I document how Jung’s later descriptions of enlightenment experiences validate their existence as psychic realities that are beyond explanation. Thus, reading some of Jung’s early statements about Eastern spirituality risks omitting later formulations that emerge from a more inclusive worldview. Many Critics Misunderstand Jung My survey of various critics reveals that many commentators do not fully understand Jung. This misunderstanding can be traced to several causes. As just discussed, some critiques are appropriate responses to Jung’s earlier writings but do not reflect his evolving point of view. Critics who were Jung’s contemporaries did not have access to his completed and indexed body of work. Even later commentators have to spend substantial time to survey Jung’s statements about any subject, picking these out of lengthy presentations (such as texts, seminar transcripts, and letters). Those presentations, themselves, are not easily understood for someone not thoroughly familiar with Jung’s terminology. For example, his term, collective unconscious, is a different and broader concept than the related psychoanalytic formulation of the unconscious. Some of his major concepts are discussed below in response to critiques that do not fully grasp the contextual field these concepts create. Jung stated in his memoirs that he rushed forward and wrote to keep up with his vision, not to formulate consistent positions. In doing so, he surveyed a vast array of symbolic materials from many times and places.
133 Jung’s writing style can be overly authoritative, and some of his statements taken out of context suggest extreme positions. For example, he writes that “’every statement about the transcendent is to be avoided because it is only a laughable presumption on the part of a human mind unconscious of its limitations’” (Jung, 1929/1983, p. 54, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 151). Here, he is overreaching by excluding all statements about the transcendent. Critics who focus on such statements may miss caveats that Jung may have indicated in a single footnote or another text. They cannot be faulted for missing such scant but crucial items. Some of his authoritative statements, however, are comments that assign general characteristics to entire nations or cultures. In this regard, Andrew Samuels’ criticism of Jung’s attempt to be a psychologist of nations seems to be wellfounded (Samuels, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 164). I wonder whether some of Jung’s overreaching statements support the hypothesis that he occasionally was caught up in an inflation because of his visionary communion with archetypal realities. Spiegelman is generally supportive of the efforts of Coward, Jordens, and Borelli in the book edited by Coward (1985a), entitled Jung and Eastern Thought. He recommends that book as a companion to his co-authored work, Hinduism and Jungian Psychology (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987). However, Spiegelman disagrees with Jordens’ assertion, which he finds without foundation, that ’the purusa, [the] final goal of yogic samadhi, remains beyond his (Jung’s) reach” (Jordens, cited in Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, p. ii). Spiegelman responds that Jung’s “psychological point of view . . . involves a simultaneous experiencing and carrying of the opposites of objectivity and subjectivity, resolved in the conception of psychic reality.” He adds that this
134 psychological standpoint that “knows its own limits,” is regrettably “hard to come by” in spiritual texts (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, p. ii). My review of critiques by Jordens and Coward finds flaws ensuing from a lack of fully understanding Jung’s terminology. For example, Jordens’ statement cited above that final stages of samadhi and purusa realization are beyond Jung’s reach is incorrectly argued. He alleges Jung’s failure in not allowing the rupturing of planes (Jordens, 1985, p. 165). Such an interpretation misreads Jung’s concepts of complex and spirit, both of which are not reifications nor are they perspectival. They are archetypal, and are thus by nature not fully knowable. Similarly, Jordens sees the transcendence of prakrti to be more extensive than the integration of ego and the collective unconscious in the individuation process. His argument rests upon the disagreement with Jung about whether one can or cannot dissolve the ego and merge with the timeless, spaceless Brahman. In his argument (pp. 156-159), Jordens misinterprets the collective unconscious as a plane rather than a limitless, interpenetrating reality. Jordens also sees Jung’s term “spirit” to lack equivalence with purusa, stating that Jung “reduces” spirit to a complex. Jung does describe spirit in a 1926 essay with reference to the term, complex. However, Jordens misinterprets the latter. In his 1934 lecture, “A Review of the Complex Theory,” that was later published with revisions, Jung writes that “complexes are psychic agencies whose deepest nature is still unfathomed.” In other words, they are archetypal at the core (Jung, 1948/1960, p. 104). Another misinterpretation of Jung’s terminology is found in Coward’s (1985a, p. 188) view that Jung’s definition of intuition is sensory-based. Jung defines intuition as
135 “neither sense perception, nor feeling, nor intellectual inference, although it may also appear in these forms” (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 453). Elsewhere, Jung defines intuition as “perception via the unconscious” (Jung, 1939/1959, p. 282), the latter term being unfathomable, as discussed above. In a critique that includes Jung’s relationship to Eastern spirituality, Ken Wilber sees Jung lumping the pre-personal experience typical of infants with transpersonal, mystical vision (Clarke, 1994, pp. 174-175). In a chapter entitled, “The Pre/Trans Fallacy,” Wilber describes this alleged confusion as follows: Since development moves from prepersonal to personal to transpersonal, and since both prepersonal and transpersonal are, in their own ways, nonpersonal, then prepersonal and transpersonal tend to appear similar, even identical, to the untutored eye. In other words, people tend to confuse prepersonal and transpersonal dimensions . . . . (Wilber, 1990, p. 219) Michael Washburn disagrees with Wilber and describes a “regression in service of transcendence” in which one suffers disillusionment and alienation as involuntary processes as the mental ego75 “loses its substance and meaning, its credibility and compellingness” (Washburn, 1995, p. 177). This description is similar to and inspired by Jung’s discussion of the uneasiness that can take place at middle age as a prelude to individuation. Washburn says that the mental ego is then deanimated, losing one’s emotional allegiance as one sees through one’s persona (defensive masks or disguises). Washburn proceeds by noting one’s confrontation with the shadow and further regression to encounter the prepersonal unconscious. He summarizes the process, its course and teleology as follows:
Washburn (1995) distinguishes the mental ego from the term ego, as a subset that excludes a body ego still partially merged with the dynamic ground of existence. The dynamic ground is equivalent to the primordial self.
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136 Regression in the service of transcendence is the first phase of a thoroughgoing psychic reorganization. It is the negative or deconstructive phase that clears the way for the building of a new order. Egoically, it is the phase during which the mental ego is shorn of its false sense of being and value, disabused of its illusions of sovereignty within the psyche, and returned to the underlying Ground. Psychodynamically, it is the phase during which primal repression is lifted and physicodynamic potentials are reawakened. And structurally, it is the phase during which the two poles of the psyche cease being dualistically separated and are brought back into contact with each other. (Washburn, 1995, p. 201) Roger Walsh and Frances Vaughan (1996) cite “a study of spiritual practitioners who had reached transpersonal developmental stages.ix,x Contrary to Washburn’s hypothesis, only some of them had experienced regressive crises.” Present limitations of the dissertation timetable prevent a review of the cited study, itself. However, there are others whose findings and experience disagree with Wilber and that study. I have known more than one person who has achieved Kundalini awakening and experienced visions in meditation, but not transcended personal grandiosity. This anecdotal observation suggests that the study, which notes transpersonal development along a stage model but does not claim to study fully liberated individuals, may miss egoic structures that still impede full liberation. Joan Shivarpita Harrigan describes a psychological unloading process in traditional Kundalini yoga practice that follows Kundalini Shakti’s attainment of the makara point in upper ajna chakra. This process can be summarized as the progressive emergence and falling away of personal psychological structures in a progression toward liberation and unity with Brahman (Harrigan, personal communication, October 21, 2000). My personal experience supports the hypotheses of Jung, Washburn, and Harrigan. After a tantric initiation in 1977, followed by the initial inflation that typically follows an expansion of consciousness, my ego and its grandiosity were challenged by
137 facing insurmountable worldly hardships. Years of meditation and Jungian analysis have revealed and released in small increments increasingly primitive affective and bodyoriented complexes. While this has happened, I have been gradually freed from some mundane attachments and goals, and have progressively extended my mental perception. I have also been able to approach others with more emotional sensitivity and less selfimportance (ego). For those who want to pursue the Wilber/Washburn dialog more fully, I recommend reading Eye to Eye by Ken Wilber (1990), The Ego and the Dynamic Ground by Michael Washburn (1995), “The Pre/Trans Fallacy Reconsidered” by Michael Washburn (1996a), “A More Integral Approach: A Response to the ReVision Authors” by Ken Wilber (1996), “Linearity, Theoretical Economy, and the Pre-Trans Fallacy by Michael Washburn (1996b), and the study cited above, “Two Patterns of Transcendence: An Empirical Examination of Wilber’s and Washburn’s Theories” by Thomas, et al. (1993). In any field, a minority of critics succumb to the temptation to prove themselves by contrasting their better insights with the supposed flaws of a recognized authority. At times, Jacobs (1961) seems to fall into this category, which is demonstrated by his polemical tone and the fact that most of his criticisms do not stand up when compared to texts by Jung that pre-date Jacobs’ critique. Here are a few examples of his unwarranted criticisms refuted, including an odd bias Jacobs holds against analytical psychology. Jacobs asserts:
138 1. Jung allegedly confuses ego with self (Jacobs, 1961, p. 146). In a text originally published in 1939, Jung writes: “The illusion concerning the nature of self is the common confusion of the self with the ego” (Jung, 1939/1969, p. 542). Jung adds in the same text: Just as the ego is a certain experience I have of myself, so is the self an experience of my ego. It is, however, no longer experienced in the form of a broader or higher ego, but in the form of a non-ego. (p. 542) 2. Jung allegedly overlooks the notion that a person is an expression of the self that moves the person (Jacobs, 1961, p. 148). Jung writes, also in 1939: This new state of consciousness born of religious practice is distinguished by the fact that outward things no longer affect an ego-bound consciousness, thus giving rise to mutual attachment, but that an empty consciousness stands open to another influence. This “other” influence is no longer felt as one’s own activity, but as that of a non-ego which has the conscious mind as its object.xxvi (Jung, 1939/1969, p. 546) Jung then cites the disciple Paul as an example when Paul says: “Galatians 2:20: ‘It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me’” (Jung, 1939/1969, p. 546). 3. Jung allegedly reduces psyche to mind and brain (Jacobs, 1961, p. 143). Anyone familiar with Jung’s theories of synchronicity and the psychoid unconscious, among others, knows that this accusation is totally unfounded. 4. Jung focuses only on polarities of conflicts (Jacobs, 1961, p. 152). This claim completely misses Jung’s descriptions of the transcendent function that is so central to his individuation process and its ongoing movement toward transcendence in a manner that resembles Hegel’s dialectical philosophy (Tarnas, 1991). Perhaps Jacobs lacks clarity when attempting to make the distinction that Hegel’s philosophy has been superseded. In addition, Jacobs incorrectly refers to Jung’s concept as “the transcendental function” (Jacobs, 1961, p. 225).
139 I do not take the space here to refute the following criticisms by Jacobs that any reader of Jung’s original writing knows are without foundation. I list them to show their extent and inaccuracy: (a) Jung does not define “scientific” (Jacobs, 1961, p. 143, (b) Jung undeservedly endorses Christianity (p. 143), and (c) Jung does not recognize the impersonal nature of the collective unconscious (p. 150). Jacobs raises additional contentious and unfounded criticisms that are not listed here. Two particularly polemical critiques by Jacobs are that “In order to justify his own inability, Jung declares the true nature of things as inaccessible” (1961, p. 146). This allegation misconstrues Jung’s often-discussed Kantian stance. Then, Jacobs makes this odd statement: “It is a well-known fact that a large percentage of Jungian analysts are women. Is this why the school lacks to some extent independent thinking and appears as a little too ‘tender’ in many ways?” (p. 100). Jacobs attended the Jung Institute in Zurich and encountered Jung directly, by his own account (Jacobs, 1961). Did he launch such polemical complaints in seminars at the Institute and with Jung directly, get rebuked, and carry a grudge? I do not know but find Jacobs’ polemical tone unfortunate. He obviously immersed himself in yoga philosophy and practice and offers some worthy challenges to Jung’s approach that are discussed elsewhere in this chapter. Summary of Chapter Findings This chapter focuses on the controversies raised by Jung’s ambivalent relationship to yoga and Eastern spirituality. The positive side of his ambivalence is seen in his affinity for the symbolism and mythology of India’s ancient heritage and his admiration for elements of the Indian way of being. The negative side is reflected in his refusal to
140 meet with one of India’s foremost holy men during his 1938 visit to that country, and in his frequent warnings that Westerners avoid practicing yoga. A careful examination of those warnings reveals that they are based, in part, on his encounters with patients who experienced psychic distress after attempting yoga practices, especially yogic breathing. Jung’s warnings to Westerners are influenced by the tragic flaws he observed in European culture that resulted in the emergence of two horrific world wars during his lifetime. He sees Western minds alienated from and sometimes possessed by primitive forces, and he seeks with his psychology to reintegrate consciousness with its cultural and mythic origins. He sees yoga practice offering a panacea to many who would seek to acquire transcendence as an object, yet fail to explore their own psyches. He also has scruples based on his allegiance to the Kantian path that led to his personal insights and may have helped him ward off being possessed by his emerging unconscious material. With these scruples, he rejects any theoretical possibility of the non-dual consciousness claimed by yogic adepts and other mystics through the ages, although he later softens his position (see Chapter 6). The attribution of defensive reasons for not meeting Sri Ramana Maharshi may be too facile, if one considers the fateful dream that directed Jung to keep his focus on Western alchemy and not get distracted by India’s overwhelming presence. Jung was aware of yoga practices and adopted some of them for himself and his patients, but he limited such practices in order to remain conscious of symbolic material emerging from the unconscious. The chapter also covers the influence of Indian culture on Europe in what amounted to an Oriental Renaissance. It details the political forces that contributed to
141 mutual prejudices between East and West, and it shows how Jung was able to find at least a partial freedom from those stereotypes. In addition, I note that Jung’s teaching techniques were sometimes convoluted and difficult to follow by anyone not familiar with his psychology. His obscure style and the diverse scope of his extensive writing makes it easy for critics of his work to come to premature or insufficiently supported conclusions. Because Jung’s theories evolved over his lifetime, critics can easily miss the later softening of his statements about unitary consciousness. This evolution appears especially after his vision of being meditated by a yogin with his own face after his heart attack of 1944 (Jung, 1961/1989; Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987). The next two chapters detail the evolution of Jung’s work, his affinity for sanatana dharma, the timeless wisdom of India, and the faith he developed in the methods used in his personal quest for wholeness.
142 Chapter 5 Individuation Jung conceived of individuation as a process of personal transformation that emerges from the depths of the psyche and leads to a development of one’s own individual values, independent and cognizant of those of the collective culture. Henderson writes that this process of individuation is an alternative to living a provisional life. Individuation, in contrast, gradually removes the false supports of persona and enables one to incarnate the religious impulse (Henderson, 1967, p. 212). Henderson later says that Jung’s description of the individuation process in the Kundalini seminar as experientially comparable to the sun myth is characteristic of the symbolic approach he adopted when Jung first parted ways with Freud. Jung went his own way because he had recognized the pull of sexuality, power, love, and spirituality in the whole person in contrast to Freud, who had dogmatically asserted the primacy of the sexual drive (Henderson, 2000, pp. 13-14). Individuation is a movement toward wholeness that involves a rounding out of the personality, employing all psychological functions (see below). In world mythology, Jung found an endless source of symbolic representations of the human search for meaning. He accessed this source throughout his career to find proof that his findings were not uniquely personal but were supported by the evidence of historical, universal human experience. In this chapter, I begin by summarizing the trends of Jung’s thought, which, together, contribute to his description of individuation. Then I take up Jung’s initial development of the individuation concept in the intense light and heat of his confrontation with the unconscious. Next, I review individuation as an element of Jung’s
143 alchemical model and show that alchemy is the symbolic system that bridges his psychology and Kundalini yoga. The alchemical model, and his late formulations of archetypal and synchronicity theories, reflect Jung’s individuation construct in its maturity. H. G. Coward (1985a) offers a summary of the development of Jung’s theories. Coward writes that Jung was always interested in Eastern thought. But he sought much of the historical grounding for his experiences in Western spiritual traditions, particularly Gnosticism and alchemy. Jung characterized these underground spiritual traditions as compensatory movements to the dogma of the Church, which set itself up as the final arbiter of truth between the faithful and God. Early Christian Gnosticism took its name from gnosis, the Greek word for knowledge (Merriam-Webster’s, 1997). The gnosis of these early Christians was a contemplative knowing and seeking of direct, personal revelation of the divine. This attitude, that the numinous76 unknown could reveal itself to a person, corresponds to the approach Jung took starting with his childhood, when he formed a personal relationship with the God-image77 that was mediated by his dreams and visions. That process reached its peak during Jung’s intense descent into the unconscious between 1913 and 1917. The
According to Jean Gebser (1949-1953/1985, p. 193), “‘Numinous,’ is derived from the Latin nunen, ‘divine power or rule,’ is an articulation of the prerational and irrational components of religious ‘holiness’ and is primarily concerned with the vital experience rather than with any valuative or ethical category.” I use the term God-image rather than God in a manner congruent with Jung’s use of the term. He sees the God-image as a demonstrable psychic reality in that most people have an inner image of the divine. By limiting his remarks to the God-image, Jung also seeks to preserve the status of his psychology as a scientifically-based treatment modality that does not make metaphysical claims. He comments about his actual belief in God only in his posthumously-published autobiography (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 353-354).
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144 primeval depths of the unconscious remained present for him for the rest of his life (Jung, 1961/1989). An example of his contact with the unconscious is Spiegelman’s account of meeting with Jung, who spoke to Spiegelman’s condition although Spiegelman did not ask any questions. Others reported similar experiences (Spiegelman, 1996a, p. 172). Jung’s glowing characterization of Gnosticism shows the strong appeal it held for him: In Gnosticism we see man’s unconscious psychology in full flower, almost perverse in its luxuriance; it contained the very thing that most strongly resisted the regula fidei, that Promethean and creative spirit which will bow only to the individual soul and to no collective ruling. Although in crude form, we find in Gnosticism what was lacking in the centuries that followed: a belief in the efficacy of individual revelation and individual knowledge. This belief was rooted in the proud feeling of man’s affinity with the gods, and so overmastering that it may even subdue the gods by the sheer power of Gnosis. (Jung, 1920/1971, pp. 241-242) According to Coward (1985a, p. 12), Gnosticism was a neo-Platonic movement whose followers sought to release archetypal symbols from the entrapment of baser instincts. The personal revelation aspect of Gnosticism led Jung to develop his individuation construct. Coward writes that other aspects of Gnosticism influenced the individuation idea and that Gnosticism was the source for Jung’s psychological types. Spiegelman disagrees, saying that Jung independently discovered psychological types in clinical practice and found their parallels in Gnosticism (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, February 20, 2001). Gnostics called the thinking type, “matikoi,” the feeling type, “psychikoi,” and the sensation type, “hylikoi” (Coward, 1985a, p. 12; Jung, 1920/1971, p. 11). Jung adds a fourth type, intuition, and he categorizes people of any type as extraverted or introverted. “Extraversion is an outward turning of libido,” so that the person tends to define themselves via other people and relate more easily to them (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 427). In
145 contrast, the libido of introverts is typically turned inward, with more reliance on their own subjective impressions than on relationships (pp. 452-453 ). Briefly, each type is the embodiment of a psychological function, a way of processing experience. The first three types are self-explanatory,78 intuition is “perception via the unconscious” (Jung, 1939/1959, p. 282). A person adapts to the world by using a preferred, or superior function. That function is opposed to an inferior function, which is the least conscious or evolved. So, thinking/feeling comprise an opposition to each other as do intuition/sensation. The compensatory nature of these functions to each other is typically illustrated as seen in Figure 8, below.
Figure 8. Psychological types arranged in compensatory relationship. The letters in the figure represent ego (E), and the thinking (T), feeling (F), sensation (S), and intuition (I) functions. Jung (1935/1980, p. 17) says that the ego expresses its will through the primary function of a given individual. Note. From The Symbolic Life: Miscellaneous Writings (p. 17), by C. G. Jung, Princeton, NJ: Princeton
For an explanation beyond the meanings of these three words, themselves, see the definitions at the back of Jung’s (1920/1971) Psychological Types.
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146 University Press. Copyright 1980 by Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ. Reprinted with permission. Each pair of functions complements one of the other pair as secondary and auxiliary functions. These less-preferred functions are still accessible to consciousness and the ego, whereas the inferior function is farthest from consciousness. As such, the inferior function compensates the superior one with freshness and vitality. “It depends not on the ego but on the self,” sometimes with intense or devastating impact (Jung, 1950/1969a, pp. 303-304). One of the goals of individuation is to round out the personality through a balance of consciousness and the unconscious, which inherently enhances access to the less-developed functions. Jung further characterizes these four functions as rational or irrational: “Thinking and feeling (qq.v.) are rational functions in so far as they are decisively influenced by reflection . . . . The irrational functions, sensation and intuition (qq.v.), are those whose aim is pure perception” (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 459). The discovery of core ideas in Gnostic literature enhanced the development of analytical psychology. However, Jung writes that many Gnostic texts were destroyed by the Church, so that he thought he might never find the link between the Gnostics and the contemporary world. With his rediscovery of alchemy, he found a resemblance to Gnostic teachings that revealed alchemy as the link he sought. For example, he finds the Gnostic krater filled with spirit to be synonymous with the alchemist’s vas (vessel) filled with substances in transformation (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 201). Coward notes Jung’s statement in his memoirs that he intensely studied what he could find of Gnostic texts between 1918 and 1926, immediately following his
147 emergence from his intense confrontation with the unconscious (Coward, 1985a, p. 10). According to Coward, “although Eastern ideas lingered on throughout his thinking, Jung’s main fascination with yoga occurred during the 1920s and 1930s, culminating with his journey to India in 1938” (1985a, p. 10). A survey of his works reveals that Jung’s later writing dealt mostly with Christian symbolism, alchemy, and the psychoid and synchronistic nature of the archetypes. In Gnosticism, Jung saw an anticipation of “the intuitions of German mysticism, so important psychologically,” whose “greatest thinker” was Meister Eckhart (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 242). Jung discusses Eckhart’s contribution at length in a passage that directly addresses Jung’s attitude toward the possibility of achieving identity with the Absolute,79 a claim of Kundalini yoga. That discussion is taken up below. Individuation and Eastern Thought I begin this section by briefly summarizing aspects of individuation that are related to Eastern thought. In his formulation of the individuation process, Jung envisions a person’s vitality, or libido, being caught between the pull of two opposed choices. By attending dream imagery or by dreaming a dream onward, via active imagination, one observes an evolution of imagery symbolizing the conflict between those opposites. This symbolism is mediated by the self and clarifies the choice for the ego. Symbols are no mere images, but expressions of the living psyche that carries the dynamis (potential power) (Gove, et al., 2000) of libido concentrated in the unconscious (Jung, 1920/1971). Attending symbols that emerge from the unconscious is a psychological act that enables a
The term, “Absolute,” throughout this study is equivalent to the Indian term, “Brahman” unless I indicate otherwise. I do not mean to imply the Hegelian Absolute.
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148 person to progressively withdraw projections from external objects. One accomplishes this withdrawal through discovering the sources of one’s projections in one’s personal history, relating them to archetypal influences (see below), and making choices based upon an ethical relationship with internal and external realities.80 The symbols or archetypal elements of psyche that emerge during the individuation process tend to initially reveal the persona (mask adopted to meet cultural expectations), then the shadow (despised aspects of the person), the anima/animus (repressed, contrasexual element and mediator with the self), and the self, although these archetypal images do not always emerge in linear progression and are often seen in combination. During the individuation process, the collective unconscious, which is formed from the sum of all human experience, has a compensatory relationship to the ego. Jung envisioned the acquisition of wisdom through the circumambulation81 of the ego around the unknowable and numinous self. Harold Coward (1985a) has provided a great service in tracing the Eastern equivalents of some of Jung’s fundamental ideas.82 According to Coward, Jung drew his
In his later years, Jung recognizes that the internal/external distinction does not always hold, due to the psychoid nature of the archetypes. To circumambulate, one walks (ambulates) around (circum) an object of worship, (Gove et al., 2000) as when someone walks a labyrinth in meditation. Thus circumambulation is the spiraling path of maturation that centers around one’s essential nature. As noted in the previous chapter, Spiegelman and Henderson believe that for the most part, at least, Jung independently discovered his core concepts and found parallels to them in Eastern texts. Shamdasani does not see Jung’s personal discovery of these concepts as a straightforward, either/or proposition (Henderson cited in Coward, 1985a; J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, February 20, 20001; S. Shamdasani, personal communication, April 13, 2001).
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149 concept of the inherent oppositions of human choices in the Indian principle of opposites, dvandva. He writes that frequently in Hindu thought, separating unmanifest unity into pairs of opposites brings the universe into being (Coward, 1985a, pp. 13-14). He also links Jung’s discussion of the emergence of manifested opposites to Jung’s following the lead of Tantric yoga where he extends the notion of klesas beyond Patanjali’s interpretations as afflicting processes. For example, the klesa asmita, which is traditionally characterized as an affliction of egoism, and the klesa dvesa, which is an affliction of aversion or dislike, are seen by Jung as instinctive urges that lead to separate existence (Coward, 1985a, pp. 34-35). Coward writes that Jung postulated the centering archetype of the self based upon the worldwide creation of mandalas, which are geometric images drawn around a center for meditative concentration and practice. Mandalas are a subset of yantras (psychic tools) (1985a, p. 51). Coward (p. 52) attributes Jung’s conception of the self as a primordial entity to the Atman-Brahman concept in the Upanishads, where Atman is the transcendental Self (Feuerstein, 1990, p. 40), and Brahman is the Absolute (p. 65). Atman and Brahman are often considered to be equivalent in the sense that the essence of a person is at one with the Absolute. To illustrate parallels to Jung’s formulation of the self archetype in Eastern thought, Coward quotes Jung. As a result of the complete detachment of all affective ties to the object, there is necessarily formed in the inner self an equivalent of objective reality, or a complete identity of inside and outside, which is technically described as tat tvam asi (thou art that). (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 461, cited in Coward, 1985a, p. 52) According to Coward, this idea of immanence in the Upanishads is that: At the moment of highest insight, the true inner self, [the] Atman, is seen to be identical with the life essence of all the external universe (Brahman). It is this
150 uniting of the internal and external in the Atman-Brahman symbol that becomes a model for Jung’s concept of the self. (Coward, 1985a, p. 53) Coward then notes (p. 54) that Jung recognized the equivalence of Atman to the purusa. The purusa is not only equivalent to Atman, but also has the sense of the self as witness (Feuerstein, 1990, p. 281). In the Kundalini seminar, Jung sees the beginning of individuation coinciding with the person discovering the self, or purusa, at the center of the heart chakra (Jung, 1996). Coward adds (p. 55) that Jung followed Eastern concepts of the self rather than the Western language of the immanent God-image because he believed that the “relativity of God in medieval mysticism is a regression to a primitive condition” (Jung, cited in Coward, 1985a, p. 55). I disagree with this statement by Coward, because, as I noted in the previous chapter, Jung found pre-modern Indian concepts of the self to be equally rooted in the primitive condition. Coward cites the notion of divine cosmic order, known in Indian thought as rta, “as a principle of dynamic regulation by withdrawing energy from any imbalance existing between the pairs of opposites until a balance or middle path is achieved.” He finds that rta and Tao correspond with Jung’s finding that the unconscious is compensatory (Coward, 1985a, p. 15). I also see a connection between these Eastern concepts and Jung’s idea of the transcendent function that mediates between the opposites (Jung, 1920/1971, 1957/1960). Coward writes that between 1918 and 1920, Jung discovered the notion of circumambulation of the self by the ego and confirmed this understanding when he read a classic Chinese text on alchemy that had recently been translated by Richard Wilhelm,
151 The Secret of the Golden Flower.83 In that text, the circumambulation idea expressed itself in the symbol of the mandala (Coward, 1985a, p. 18). Jung relates the state of concentration in active imagination to tapas, which is described as self-brooding in a translation of the Rig Veda. According to Coward, Jung uses the term, tapas, for different purposes than does Patanjali (1985a, p. 35). In this regard, Jung writes: The elimination of sense-perception and the blotting out of conscious contents enforce a lowering of consciousness (as in hypnosis) and an activation of the contents of the unconscious, that is, the primordial images, which, because of their universality and immense antiquity, possess a cosmic and suprahuman character. (Jung, cited in Coward, 1985a, p. 35) According to Coward (1985a, p. 30), the concept of citta helped Jung form his own conception of libido as neutral psychic energy and thus is related to his break with Freud. Coward sees an approximate congruence between Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious and buddhitattva. In Indian thought, buddhitattva “suggests a pure collective or universal consciousness containing within it all the individual minds,” but this concept is not exactly parallel with the collective unconscious idea and is a term that varies from one Eastern school to another (p. 40). Coward writes that the collective unconscious is more comparable with the yogacara notion of alaya “ . . . a storehouse or repository consciousness in which all individual experience is groundedlvii” (p. 41). Coward notes
Although Jung’s discovery of that text helped expand his understanding of analytical psychology, it did this on the basis of a poorly researched and translated source text. J. J. Clarke cites Thomas Cleary’s foreword to his own, new translation of that text as follows: “‘Although Jung credited The Secret of the Golden Flower with having clarified his own work on the unconscious . . . what he did not know was that the text he was reading was in fact a garbled translation of a truncated version of a corrupted recension of the original work.’ (Cleary, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 170). I take up the theme of Jung’s limited access to reliable translations in later chapters.
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152 the correspondences Jung finds between anima/animus and similar Eastern concepts. He says that Jung finds obvious similarity between the contrasexual archetype and Shakti/Shiva, but a closer correspondence with yin/yang and the related symbolism of p’o/hun. He recounts Jung’s extensive description of these terms, which are more soullike than the goddess/god, divine power nature of Shakti/Shiva or the broadly-conceived and universal yin/yang. P’o is the feminine “white-spirit” that is an earthbound, bodily aspect of consciousness and upon death becomes a ghost. Hun is a “cloud-spirit” related to logos84 (Coward, 1985a, pp. 44-45). Coward (1985a, p. 48) then notes Jung’s report in his memoirs that he was reassured by an Indian friend whose spirit guru was none other than that of the medieval sage, Shankaracharya. Jung wrote that he found comfort that he was not alone in being guided by an autonomous inner figure such as Elijah/Philemon because India has a tradition of people relating to inner gurus. Jung’s inner guru emerged in his consciousness during the visionary journey that provided the inspiration for his life’s work. That inner journey was Jung’s breakthrough to a process he would call “individuation.” His own example of a perilous descent into the depths and re-emergence as an initiate of mysteries is the defining exemplar of that process. Jung’s Visionary Journey After his break with Freud in 1912, Jung took the perilous but necessary step of following the lead of his unconscious images and visions. He found the strength to survive a flood of unconscious material by maintaining his contact with the world
Logos is “reason or the manifestation of reason conceived in ancient Greek philosophy as constituting the controlling principle in the universe” (Gove et al., 2000).
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153 through family life and therapy practice while expressing and interpreting his visions to make meaning of chaos.85 During that journey, Jung discovered an autonomous inner figure, Philemon, who guided him and represented “superior insight” (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 181-184). Jung’s memoirs reveal that he was always aware of his visionary capacity. The difference between most people and myself is that for me the “dividing walls” are transparent. That is my peculiarity . . . . To some extent I perceive the processes going on in the background, and that gives me an inner certainty. People who see nothing have no certainties and can draw no conclusions—or do not trust them even if they do . . . . Knowledge of processes in the background early shaped my relationship to the world. Basically, that relationship was the same in my childhood as it is to this day. (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 355-356) His certainty of vision led Jung to the conviction that “the unexpected and the incredible belong in this world. Only then is life whole. For me the world has from the beginning been infinite and ungraspable (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 356).” At times he was not comfortable with his own ideas, but felt that there was a daimon in me, and in the end its presence proved decisive. It overpowered me, and if I was at times ruthless it was because I was in the grip of the daimon. I could never stop at anything once attained. I had to hasten on, to catch up with my vision. (p. 356) During his decisive journey of 1913-1917, Jung writes, “I hit upon this stream of lava, and the heat of its fires reshaped my life.” These quotes support Sonu Shamdasani’s belief that Jung was more a visionary that a conceptual thinker (personal communication, November 20, 2000). Upon hearing this passage, Joan Harrigan concurred with my
Jung’s own adaptive strategy here to maintain his grip to external reality was a basis for his disagreement with the progressive detachment from the senses of yogic concentration practices. This strategy is noted by Spiegelman when he advises that even latter elements of the individuation process require more than introverted practice (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 44, 150).
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154 speculation that Jung may have been experiencing a Kundalini rising (Harrigan, personal communication, January 16, 2001). Although Jung did take the time to revise many of his early works, one gets the impression when reading much of his writing that he allows the symbolic material to lead him onward rather than stop the flow of that material to build a logical argument that is easily understood. He hastens on, to catch up with his vision. By 1913, Jung lectured about the need of the modern human being to recapture instinctive wholeness by building up that same psychological attitude which was characterized by the living belief in a religious or philosophical dogma on earlier levels of culture…. Thus man attains the same sense of unity and wholeness, the same confidence, the same capacity for self-sacrifice in his conscious existence that belong unconsciously and instinctively to wild animals. (Jung, 1913/1961, pp. 241-242) Jung’s first discussion of individuation is in a 1913 lecture that makes reference to Nietzsche’s description of the capacity of the Apollonian state (introverted, passive, observing) to achieve disciplined serenity in the throes of liberating Dionysian enchantment and intoxication (Jung, 1913/1971, pp. 506-507).86 Jung quotes Nietzsche, who himself borrows words from Schopenhauer as follows: “As upon a tumultuous sea, unbounded in every direction, the mariner sits full of confidence in his frail bisque, rising and falling amid the raging mountains of waves, so the individual man, in a world of troubles, sits passive and serene, trusting to the principium individuationis.”xxiv “Yes,” continues Nietzsche, “one might say that the unshakable confidence in this principle, and the calm security of those whom it has inspired, have found in Apollo their most sublime expression, and one might describe Apollo himself as the glorious divine image of the principle of individuation.”xxv (Jung, 1920/1971, pp. 506-507)
In this regard, Spiegelman notes that individuation develops in the interplay of the left hand of unconsciousness and the right hand of consciousness, similar to Kabbalistic practice (Spiegelman, 1996a, p. 167). For more on Kabbalah, see the following chapter, entitled “Subtle Body.”
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155 In 1916, during his confrontation with the unconscious, Jung began to draw mandalas. He writes, “with the help of these drawings I could observe my psychic transformations from day to day” (1961/1989, p. 195). Then, “I saw that everything, all the paths I had been following … were leading back to a single point—namely to the mid-point. It became increasingly plain to me that the mandala is the center . . . . It is the path to the center, to individuation.” This motif culminated in 1927 with a dream of a blossoming magnolia tree of unearthly beauty that few could see. It was situated in the middle of a mandala-like cityscape of Liverpool that was dreary on the surface, yet represented the pool of life (pp. 197-198). From that dream, Jung understood that one could not go beyond the center. The center is the goal, and everything is directed toward that center. Through this dream I understood that the self is the principle and archetype of orientation and meaning. Therein lies its healing function. (pp. 198-199) Here, Jung’s own account suggests his independent discovery of the self archetype through his spontaneous drawing of mandalas and his dream of the numinous magnolia tree. With the discovery of the self as centering archetype, Jung writes that he had reached his own ultimate (1961/1989, p. 197) and caught the first inkling of his personal myth (p. 199). By the time he emerged from his mid-life confrontation with the unconscious, his journey into the depths had formed the basis of all of his later writing and earned him a hard-won integration of ego and psyche—his own individuation. Jung’s first published definition of individuation appears in 1916, in his posthumously discovered essay, “Adaptation, Individuation, Collectivity” (Jung, 1970/1976, pp. 449-454). This essay may reveal guilt he felt from his break with Freud, who was a father figure to him. Its style shows Freud’s theoretical influence.
156 In that text, Jung characterizes the struggle to individuate in terms of guilt and reparation. Although he writes in a theoretical voice, his struggle to keep outer and inner worlds separate is readily apparent. He develops his argument as follows. Since the pull of individuation calls for “the breaking of the patient’s previous personal conformity,” which “would mean the destruction of an aesthetic and moral ideal, the first step in individuation is a tragic guilt” (Jung, 1970/1976, p. 451). This guilt is related to abandoning conformity to the collective. To redeem the guilt, the individuant “must offer a ransom in place of himself, that is, he must bring forth values which are an equivalent substitute for his absence in the collective personal sphere” (p. 451). In a passage revealing the intensity of his struggle to avoid being flooded by the unconscious, Jung writes that if failed equilibration of libido with regard to inner adaptation flows over into outer adaptation, “fantasies intervene in the relation to the real world. In contrast,” an overflow of libido from outer to inner adaptation carries with it “qualities belonging to the reality-function” (Jung, 1970/1976, p. 450). Only to the extent that a man creates objective values can he and may he individuate. Every further step in individuation creates new guilt and necessitates new expiation. Hence individuation is possible only so long as substitute values are produced. (p. 451) Jung then characterizes individuation as “an exclusive adaptation to inner reality and hence an allegedly ‘mystical’ process. The expiation is adaptation to the outer world. It has to be offered to the outer world, with the petition that the outer world accept it” (p. 451). He then makes a painful assertion that the individual has no a priori right to selfesteem, and that society has the right to expect an expiatory presentation of values that can be realized. “For the existing society is always of absolute importance as the point of transition through which all world development passes, and it demands the highest
157 collaborative achievement from every individual” (p. 452). He is apparently trying to find the value of his emerging ideas, his visions, to the larger society, and to find a rationale for obeying his inner calling. He does not want to expatiate his guilt by mere imitation, as seen in these passages: “What society demands is imitation or conscious identification, a treading of accepted, authorized paths. Only by accomplishing an equivalent is one exempted from this” (Jung, 1970/1976, p. 452). “The unconscious is, as the collective psyche, the psychological representative of society” (p. 453). His exploration of guilt and reparation escalates to his relationship with God and then makes a surprising transition: The individual must now consolidate himself by cutting himself off from God and becoming wholly himself. Thereby and at the same time he also separates himself from society. Outwardly he plunges into solitude, but inwardly into hell, distance from God. In consequence, he loads himself with guilt. In order to expiate this guilt, he gives his good to the soul, the soul brings it before God (the polarized unconscious), and God returns a gift (productive reaction of the unconscious) which the soul offers to man, and which man gives to mankind. Or it may go another way: in order to expiate the guilt, he gives his supreme good, his love, not to the soul but to a human being who stands for his soul, and from this human being it goes to God and through this human being it comes back to the lover, but only so long as this human being stands for his soul . . . . Thus I, as an individual, can discharge my collective function either by giving my love to the soul and so procuring the ransom I owe to society, or, as a lover, by loving the human being through whom I receive the gift of God. (Jung, 1970/1976, pp. 453-454) Jung’s confrontation with the unconscious was obviously a heated battle and a struggle for his sanity. It necessitated his withdrawal from academia and his spending a great deal of time in solitude. But the transition in the passage above that situates a lover as a mediator with God suggests a source of guilt that is more immediate than that of a genius wrestling with his creative daemon. Jung’s struggle with overwhelming
158 unconscious libido involved his fascination with a woman outside of his marriage, which posed for him a conflict of duty. He attributes his being flooded with unconscious material, in part, to his inner connection with her87 (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 195). Jung writes in his memoirs: It was only toward the end of the First World War that I began to emerge from the darkness. Two events contributed to this. The first was that I broke with the woman who was determined to convince me that my fantasies had artistic value; the second and principal event was that I began to understand mandala drawings. (p. 195) That woman had become an inner figure in his mind who personified what he would call “the anima,” as seen in the following passage: When I was writing down these fantasies, I once asked myself, “What am I really doing?” . . . Whereupon a voice within me said, “It is art.” . . . I recognized it as the voice of a patient, a talented psychopath who had a strong transference to me. She had become a living figure within my mind . . . . I was greatly intrigued by the fact that a woman should interfere with me from within. My conclusion was that she must be the “soul,” in the primitive sense, and I began to speculate on why the name “anima” was given to the soul. (pp. 185-186) When formulating the need of the individual to accommodate inner passions and external values, Jung, explores “true love” as a connection to the unconscious and God. I portray Jung’s apparent attempts to cope with his passion for a woman for more than prurient interest. These passages show Jung’s initial formulation of individuation in relation to the archetypal figures of the self and the anima, confrontation with the
John Kerr (1994) takes the position that Jung had an affair with Sabina Spielrein, who had been his patient, and revealed herself to be a talented theorist in her own right. Sonu Shamdasani says that most Jung historians agree that Jung did not actually have an affair with Spielrein (personal communication, November 20, 2000). I find both Kerr’s arguments and Shamdasani’s knowledge of Jung compelling and am not in a position to make that call. Whatever the case, Jung’s own memoirs reveal that he was captivated by a woman who had become such a compelling figure that she personified his soul.
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159 shadow, and the mediation of personal transformation by the transcendent function. They reveal that confrontation with the unconscious is a compelling experience with the capacity to stir one’s primal emotions, including the experience of falling in love, as seen in the love-struck writings of such mystics as San Juan de la Cruz (trans. 1972) and the graphically sexual images of tantric yoga. It also confronts one with the personal unconscious, as formulated by Freud—with “everything that the subject refuses to acknowledge about himself and yet is always thrusting itself upon him directly or indirectly—for instance, inferior traits of character and other incompatible tendencies” (Jung, 1970/1976, pp. 284-285). Jung struggled to find a middle way that would keep his passion alive without succumbing to overwhelming guilt. If a man’s libido goes to the unconscious, the less it goes to a human being; if it goes to a human being, the less it goes to the unconscious. But if it goes to a human being, and it is a true love, then it is the same as if the libido went direct [sic] to the unconscious . . . . Only then does love give him the quality of a mediator, which otherwise and in himself he would not possess. (p. 454) True love as he defines it here is “for the soul of a human being who stands for his soul” (Jung, 1970/1976, p. 454). Thus the soul or a true love representing that soul mediates between the call of the unconscious and one’s duties to society. God is described, above, as the polarized unconscious, suggesting that Jung writes of the Godimage, which is situated in polar contrast to the ego. The essential points I see in Jung’s initial, intense exploration of individuation, are as follows. First, he models the call of individuation in response to the unconscious as a move toward wholeness that is driven by the passions of one’s instinctive nature. The call of individuation channels libido away from collective values toward the unconscious. This engenders a struggle with conscience and creates guilt that must be redeemed. The
160 call of individuation does not justify totally rejecting the values of one’s culture. In that early text, he also writes that imitation of newly chosen values are sufficient for individuals contained by those values. Others must form their own values in response to the unconscious. These values must be realizable within the collective culture, or guilt is not ransomed. One must remain related to the unconscious, a.k.a. God, through love, even if this initially looks like a separation from God.88 Next comes a dilemma that Jung does not resolve until he separates the anima from its projection upon another person.89 One’s soul, or a lover (anima), who stands for one’s soul, can be a channel for one’s devotion to God and for God’s gifts in return. This flow of devotion and love that brings forth God’s gifts allows one to become a mediator90 between others and God beyond one’s previous capacity. One returns gifts to one’s culture or lover that are received from the unconscious, a.k.a. God. At about the same time Jung wrote “Adaptation, Individuation, Collectivity,” which reveals the intensity of his personal struggle, he published the first versions of Two Essays on Analytical Psychology (Jung, 1916/1966a, 1916/1966b). The editors of the updated versions include an appendix for researchers that contains the original text.
This step is reflected in alchemical imagery as ascent of the soul. (Jung, 1946/1966, p. 267; Schwartz-Salant, 1989, p. 119) Jung reveals his ultimate resolution of withdrawing the projection so that he can form a relationship with the anima in “The Relations between the Ego and the Unconscious” (1942/1966b, p. 200). This resolution reflects a revision to his 1916 essay, “The Structure of the Unconscious” (1916/1966b). He formulates the evolution of passionate relationships more fully in his essay, “Marriage as a Psychological Relationship” (Jung, 1925/1981, pp. 189-201). This development is later seen in the alchemical model as creating the lapis, the philosopher’s stone.
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161 Those early versions reveal that Jung was still formulating his theoretical approach, but they do not contain the signs of personal struggle that are so evident in “Adaptation, Individuation, Collectivity” (Jung, 1970/1976, pp. 449-454). In Two Essays, he elaborates on the theoretical attempt of the work just cited. In the personal sphere, these early texts reveal a man who was quite able, in 1916, to write and lecture coherently about psychiatric issues. Two Essays on Analytical Psychology introduced the new paths Jung’s work had taken and proved extremely popular. He wrote no less than four revisions to the originals, the last completed in 1942. In prefaces to the revised editions, Jung writes that he culled extraneous material, clarified theoretical issues, and omitted text about psychological types that he had more fully worked out in his book with that name. By the time Two Essays received their final revisions, Jung had clarified the question of God versus Godimage. He had also provided a more inclusive and straightforward definition of the collective unconscious than was seen in his first attempts. He admonished readers against turning to worship the collective unconscious as God, which would give it too much power over oneself (Jung, 1942/1966b, pp. 236-237). He also acknowledged that an analysand’s realization of individuality and resolution of the transference coincided with the activation of the God-image as a guiding function. In 1916, Jung already formulates that the true end of analysis is reached when the patient has gained an adequate knowledge of the methods by which he can maintain contact with the unconscious, and has acquired a psychological understanding sufficient for him to discern the direction of his life-line at the moment. (Jung, 1916/1966b, p. 295) This distinguishes his approach from that of Freud, because the unconscious for Jung is more than the accrual of repressed personal experiences, but instead is a
162 repository of primordial images that is present in every person and reflects the collective experience of humanity. The curative factor here is not the analysis itself, but the analysand’s moral fiber, a commitment to “in very truth take the way of the individual lifeline he has recognized as his own, and continue along it until such time as an unmistakable reaction from the unconscious tells him that he is on the wrong track” (Jung, 1916/1966b, p. 293). In Two Essays, Jung emphasizes the need to not identify with the conscious, collective values so that one’s persona, or adaptation to the external world, is identical with the ego. In similar fashion, he characterizes identification with the unconscious as similarly non-individual, or collective.91 He defines the persona as a compromise formation that stands between the individual and society and sees the anima/animus as a similar compromise formation that is in this case “the face of the subject as seen by the collective unconscious” (Jung, 1916/1966b, p. 304). Thus anima/animus is defined in a mediatory role. Jung writes that his analytic experience supports dissolution of the persona through integration of experience of the collective unconscious. Since the contrasexual archetype (animus/anima) is a similar compromise formation, he thus implies that it can also eventually dissolve—an implication that links analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga through the concept of laya (dissolution of lesser into greater consciousness), as noted in Chapter 8. That implication is supported in Jung’s memoirs, where he writes that he eventually stopped employing the anima as the mediator of difficult emotions, although
Here we see the origin of one of the central concepts of the individuation process, a symbolic attitude that does not reify or identify with reactions or fantasies but instead recognizes symbolic material as possible connecting story or myth that holds the tension between left- and right-hand choices (Spiegelman, 1996a, p. 126).
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163 he still had the capacity to use her for this, if needed. The intense emotions that were previously mediated by the anima no longer troubled him so that he could perceive her ideas directly from his dreams (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 188). A theme emerging from Jung’s confrontation with the unconscious is the establishment of an orienting point in the ego, which is separated from collective cultural values, the unconscious, and the mediatory persona and anima. Throughout his later career he admonished people to recognize and relinquish identification with these and other archetypes or fall under their possessive sway in an inflation or a fragmentation, which implies a risk of psychotic breakdown. This separation of an observing, evaluating individuality is seen in his 1932 refusal to accept yogic claims of non-dual consciousness and is stated categorically in his 1939 essay, “Conscious, Unconscious, and Individuation” (Jung, 1939/1959, pp. 275-289). There, he rejects the yogic idea of the ego being absorbed into a universal superconsciousness.92 One hopes to control the unconscious, but the past masters in the art of selfcontrol, the yogis, attain perfection in samadhi, a state of ecstasy, which so far as we know is equivalent to a state of unconsciousness. It makes no difference whether they call our unconscious a “universal consciousness”; the fact remains that in their case the unconscious has swallowed up ego-consciousness. They do not realize that a “universal consciousness” is a contradiction in terms, since exclusion, selection, and discrimination are the root and essence of everything that lays claim to the name “consciousness.” “Universal consciousness” is logically identical with unconsciousness. It is nevertheless true that a correct application of the methods described in the Pali Canon [sic] or in the Yoga-sutra induces a remarkable extension of consciousness. But, with increasing extension, the contents of consciousness lose in clarity of detail. In the end, consciousness becomes all-embracing, but nebulous; an infinite number of things merge into an indefinite whole, a state in which subject and object are almost completely identical. (Jung, 1939/1959, pp. 287-288)
This idea that the ego is dissolved in yoga rather than set aside in a manner similar to that of Jungian psychology is a point of contention discussed in my Chapter 8, “Findings.”
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164 He later notes that the setting aside of ego, though not its dissolution, is an essential and hard-won turning point in the individuation process. This is “not an act of the will and not a result arbitrarily produced; it is an event, an occurrence, whose inner, compelling logic can be disguised only by wilful self-deception” (Jung, 1950/1969a, p. 318). The setting aside of the ego is implied in his definition of individuation provided in Psychological Types. There, he describes individuation as “separation and differentiation from the general and a building up of the particular—not a particular that is sought out, but one that is already ingrained in the psychic constitution.” In the same text, he differentiates individuation from an extreme individualism in conflict with the collective norm that he sees as pathological. He abandons the conflict model of guilt and reparation and expands the individuation concept as “the development of consciousness out of the original state of identity (q.v.). It is an extension of the sphere of consciousness, an enriching of conscious psychological life” (Jung, 1920/1971, pp. 449-450). Jung explores the farther reaches of individuation with reference to religious experiences and symbolism. In one way or another, religious texts and scriptures all address one’s relationship with God, the Absolute. His writing about the Gnostic way acknowledges its anticipation of medieval mysticism. He explores the mystic motif of achieving union with God in his luminous discussion of the writings of the 13th-century German mystic, Meister Eckhart, that compares Eckhart’s texts with Indian philosophy (Jung, 1920/1971, pp. 242-256). Meister Eckhart—A Psychological Mystic Jung writes that nothing is known of the personal life of the 13th century German mystic, Meister Eckhart. He finds evidence in that master’s writing, however, of a
165 confrontation with the unconscious similar to what he had experienced. Jung quotes Eckhart’s discourse on repentance to the effect that “still today one seldom finds that people come to great things without they first go somewhat astray” (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 242). He notes, further, Eckhart’s text about all of Christ’s apostles having fallen into mortal sin (p. 245). The implication is that because Eckhart and other people called to “great things” face their own sin, their own “darkest hell,” they become capable of a direct, soulful relationship with God. Jung was later to write that his personal myth was to restore the dark side of God to the Western, Christian culture (Jung, 1961/1989). Thus Jung writes, “strangely appealing is Eckhart’s sense of an inner affinity with God, when contrasted with the Christian sense of sin. We feel ourselves transported back into the spacious atmosphere of the Upanishads” (p. 242). Later he cites a quote from Eckhart that is directly comparable to the Vedic idea that Atman is Brahman. In Eckhart’s words, ’For man is truly god and god is truly man’cliii” (p. 245). In this one of many discourses about Eckhart in his collected works, Jung explores Eckhart’s psychological relativism for two purposes: to discern the role of psychology in interpreting religious myths, and to examine the God-image as a content of the unconscious. Jung formulates the role of psychology vis-à-vis religion as follows: Reverence for the great mysteries of Nature, which the language of religion seeks to express in symbols hallowed by their antiquity, profound significance, and beauty, will not suffer from the extension of psychology to this domain, to which science has hitherto found no access. We only shift the symbols back a little, shedding a little light on their darker reaches, but without succumbing to the erroneous notion that we have created anything more than merely a new symbol for the same enigma that perplexed all ages before us. Our science is a language of metaphor, too, but in practice it works better than the old mythological hypothesis, which used concretisms as a means of expression, and not, as we do, concepts. (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 253)
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Thus, in a few strokes of the pen, he expresses reverence for the religious vision and reconciles religious experience with scientific thinking. This act is a reconciliation of opposites that had for centuries alienated Western culture from spiritual experience and elevated the illusion of scientific objectivity to its pedestal as the new, unquestioned authority (Romanyshyn, 1989; Tarnas, 1991). Jung’s amplification of Eckhart’s vision reflects the influence of Albert Einstein’s revolutionary concept of relativity. In like fashion, Jung characterizes Eckhart as relativistic because Eckhart found the relationship with God not to be a one-way affair, with God determining the individual’s entire fate. Instead, one’s ability to consistently experience the bliss of the divine presence can be disrupted by projection. To arrive at this conclusion, one needs to find a way to locate the relationship with God within the individual psyche. Jung does this by acknowledging the evidence for this relationship in the God-image. This God-image is, by definition, overpowering. From the empirical standpoint of analytical psychology, the God-image is the symbolic expression of a particular psychic state, or function, which is characterized by its absolute ascendancy over the will of the subject, and can therefore bring about or enforce actions and achievements that could never be done by conscious effort. (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 243) In a single, lucid paragraph, he distinguishes the God-image from the metaphysical claims of religion without detracting from religious experience, and he establishes the relativity of the God-image if realized as an unconscious factor that first appears in projected form. For our psychology, which as a science must confine itself to empirical data within the limits set by cognition, God is not even relative, but a function of the unconscious—the manifestation of a dissociated quantum of libido that has activated the God-image. From the metaphysical point of view God is, of course, absolute, existing in himself. This implies his complete detachment from the
167 unconscious, which means, psychologically, a complete unawareness of the fact that God’s action springs from one’s own inner being. The relativity of God, on the other hand, means that a not inconsiderable portion of the unconscious processes is registered, at least indirectly, as a psychological content. Naturally this insight is possible only when more attention than usual is paid to the psyche, with the consequence that the contents of the unconscious are withdrawn from projection into objects and become endowed with a conscious quality that makes them appear as belonging to the subject and as subjectively conditioned. (Jung, 1920/1971, pp. 243-244) In the above passage, psychology as a science is located within the confines of cognition. God, as such, is not relative. That is the status of the God-image, which is a content of the psyche and is constellated, like other unconscious contents, by accumulated libido.93 Jung adds that “the withdrawal from projection into objects” is no simple mental act, nor is it achieved by an act of will (p. 248). Because libido is invested in the external objects, one must encounter the primitive side of one’s nature where such vitality is anchored.94 According to Jung, this vitalizing force is what makes the experience of God blissful. Jung finds the relativity of God, in principle, in so-called “primitive” cultures, where God is everywhere, inside and outside the individual, ceremonial objects, nature, and persons of power, such as the medicine man (1920/1971, p. 244). He situates Indian culture in a unique position of remaining in touch with its primitive roots while growing beyond them. In this regard, he writes: The related Eastern conceptions of the individual and supra-individual atman are not so much a regression to the primitive as a continuous development out of the
I show in Chapter 7 how Kundalini yoga works in similar fashion to stir the Goddess, Kundalini Shakti, into activity by accumulating prana in the central spinal channel, the sushumna nadi. The reader may note that projection is expressed here as a spatial conception whereas worldwide religious scriptures conceive of God as being omnipresent.
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168 primitive in a typically Eastern way that still manages to preserve the efficacy of the primitive principle. (p. 244) I noted above Jung’s acknowledgement that Eckhart experienced a confrontation with the dark side of the God-image, evidenced by his discussion of mortal sin. Eckhart, like Jung, saw the need to face both the clear and muddy springs of life. Through this confrontation one may succeed in assimilating contents from the God-image or remain in a state of identification. Jung quotes Eckhart to make this point. “Whereas he who has not God as such an inner possession, but with every means must fetch him from without, in this thing or in that, where he is then sought for in vain, in all manner of works, people, or places; verily such a man has him not, and easily something comes to trouble him.” (Eckhart Works, cited in Jung, 1920/1971, p. 245) Jung then addresses Eckhart’s emphasis on this possession of God being assimilated rather than in projected form. “The soul is not blissful because she is in God, she is blissful because God is in her. Rely upon it, God himself is blissful in the soul” (Eckhart Works, cited in Jung, 1920/1971, p. 246). Jung interprets this bliss to be equivalent to the feeling that one has as a child who is in harmony with nature. He refers to the Indian term, ananda, in this regard. His characterization of that state is one in which “the ego almost entirely disappears” (p. 249). I do not believe that ananda and a child’s innocent happiness are comparable states. Blissful states of consciousness in yoga occur in the absence of mental activity, and thus, by practitioners’ accounts, without ego. This is a more peaceful state than is only experienced in transient form by children or so-called “primitives.” Jung even writes on the following page about religious teachings that the bliss he is discussing is reported by spiritual texts to be “‘not of this world.’” Children and primitives are very much of this world. Is Jung overly identified with his own limited self-realization in 1921? Is he
169 too tightly confined within psychological empiricism and thus unwilling to hypothesize about experience beyond the reach of conceptual thinking? These questions are taken up in later chapters. In the passage quoted immediately above, Eckhart compares the soul to the kingdom of God, the image of God, and of like nature to the Godhead. Jung writes about this conception of the soul: Looked at historically, the soul, that many-faceted and much-interpreted concept, refers to a psychological content that must possess a certain measure of autonomy within the limits of consciousness. If this were not so, man would never have hit on the idea of attributing an independent existence to the soul, as though it were some objectively perceptible thing. (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 247) He notes the assimilation of the soul in the advanced mysticism of both Western and Eastern cultures. “In Buddhism everything is dissolved into consciousness; even the samskaras, the unconscious formative forces, must be transformed through religious selfdevelopment” (p. 247). The start of this assimilation is “when the libido is withdrawn from external objects and descends into the unconscious,” and “the soul is born again in God.” This is, as Eckhart observes, not a blissful state, because, in Jung’s interpretation, “it is a negative act, a turning away from life and a descent to the deus absconditus, who possesses qualities” as Jung himself had found, that are “very different from those of the God who shines by day” (p. 253). So what are the possible results of assimilating these images of the divine through one’s soul, which itself is the personal carrier of the God-image? Jung first describes several paths of partial realization, where the libido of these images is expressed in art, channeled into philosophical speculation or nontraditional religions, or in “every form of licentiousness” (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 252). Alternatively,
170 The conscious realization of these images is, however, of indirect value from the point of view of adaptation to reality, in that one’s relation to the surrounding world is thereby freed from admixtures of fantasy. Nevertheless, their main value lies in promoting the subject’s happiness and well-being, irrespective of external circumstances. To be adapted is certainly an ideal, but adaptation is not always possible. There are situations in which the only adaptation is patient endurance. (p. 252) This achievement of a conscious realization that makes one resilient to adversity is more fully elaborated in Jung’s alchemical model, which is discussed below, where it is recognized as the albedo, or whitening stage. At this stage of individuation there is still work to be done in what Jung and Eckhart recognize to be an ongoing process. In the following passage, Eckhart describes a breakthrough that seems equivalent to the transcendent, non-dual state of Indian scriptures, where there is a blissful cessation of desirous ego and the experience of omniscience. “When I flowed forth, all creatures declared God . . . . And why did they not declare the Godhead? All that is in Godhead is one, and of that there is nothing to declare. Only God does; Godhead does nothing, there is nothing it can do, and never has it looked for anything to do. God and Godhead are as different as doing and non-doing. When I come home again in God, I do nothing more in myself, so this my breaking through is much more excellent than my first going out. For truly it is I who bring all creatures out of their own into my mind and make them one in me. When I come back into the ground and the depths of Godhead, into its flood and source, none asks me whence I came or whither I went. None missed me. God passes away.clxix” (Eckhart Works, cited in Jung, 1920/1971, p. 254) About this breakthrough, Eckhart writes, “I receive what God and I have in common. I am what I was, I neither increase nor diminish, for I am the unmoved mover that moves all things. Here God can find no more place in man, for man by his emptiness has won back that which he eternally was and ever shall remain.” (Eckhart Works, cited in Jung, 1920/1971, p. 255) Jung characterizes Eckhart’s achievement in the following manner:
171 The “flowing out” means a realization of the unconscious content and the unconscious dynamis95 in the form of an idea born of the soul. This is an act of conscious differentiation from the unconscious dynamis, a separation of the ego as subject from God (=dynamis) as object. By this act God “becomes.” But when the “breakthrough” abolishes this separation by cutting the ego off from the world, and the ego again becomes identical with the unconscious dynamis, God disappears as an object and dwindles into a subject which is no longer distinguishable from the ego. In other words the ego, as a late product of differentiation, is reunited with the dynamic All-oneness (the participation mystique of primitives). This is the immersion in the “flood and source.” (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 255) Keep in mind Jung’s acknowledgement of the capacity of the Indian path to remain “in touch with Mother Earth, the prime source of all power,” while also achieving “not so much a regression to the primitive as a continuous development out of the primitive . . . that still manages to preserve the efficacy of the primitive principle” (p. 244). In this light, Jung’s discussion of the passages quoted above appears entirely salutary. Moreover, he finds this image refreshing in contrast to the separation of God and humanity by the Church. Yet I find that despite the apparently complete correspondence between Meister Eckhart’s writing and that of great Indian sages, Jung relies more upon his cognitive, psychological model than upon the testimony of so great a sage as Eckhart. Despite characterizing both the concepts of science and the concretism of pre-scientific cultures
What is interesting about Jung’s use of the word, dynamis is that it is a Greek word that characterizes power and potential, in contrast to the term, energeia, which, by nature, is manifest (Gove et al., 2000). I note this subtlety because it resembles descriptions of the Absolute in Indian scriptures as unmanifest potential. I can only speculate at this point as to whether those scriptures are the inspiration for this subtle distinction.
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172 as symbols,96 he writes that “the relativity of God in medieval mysticism is, therefore, a regression to a primitive condition" (p. 244). His “therefore” is predicated on the conclusion that as a consequence of Western mystics’ paying more attention than usual to the psyche, the contents of the unconscious are withdrawn from projection into objects and become endowed with a conscious quality that makes them appear as belonging to the subject and as subjectively conditioned. This is what happened with the mystics, though it was not the first time that the idea of God’s relativity appeared. It is found in principle in the very nature of things among primitives. (Jung, 1920/1971, pp. 243-244) His uncritical references to Eastern mysticism contrast with his later interpretation of samadhi as a sleeplike condition and of liberation through yoga as equivalent to complete withdrawal from life. They also contrast with his contention in his letter to Vasavada quoted in Chapter 3 that there is no consciousness without ego and that one cannot achieve true identity with God (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 192-193). The discrepancy between these later views and his vision of Eastern spirituality in Psychological Types (Jung, 1920/1971) may be due to Jung’s not considering himself a sufficiently expert interpreter of Eastern texts at that time. In this early work, he says of the similarities between Eckhart and Eastern scriptures, “the numerous analogies with Eastern ideas are immediately apparent, and they have been elaborated by writers more qualified than myself” (p. 255). In salutary fashion, he adds, “in the absence of direct transmission this parallelism proves that Eckhart was thinking from the depths of the collective psyche which is common to East and West” (p. 255). He leaves the
Gebser (1949-1953/1985) makes a useful distinction by acknowledging a divine ground that shines through all structures of consciousness. He calls this divine ground “the ever-present origin.”
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173 differentiation between East and West unresolved and maintains his contention that Eckhart’s achievement was a regression when he concludes that “this universal foundation, for which no common historical background can be made answerable, underlies the primitive mentality with its energic conception of God” (p. 255). What of India’s “continuous development out of the primitive . . . that still manages to preserve the efficacy of the primitive principle” (p. 244)? The reasons for such discrepancies are explored in Chapter 4, “Jung and Indian Spirituality,” Chapter 6, “Subtle Body,” Chapter 7, “Kundalini Yoga,” and Chapter 8, “Findings.” In alchemy, Jung found the fullest historical amplification of his individuation process. Here, we see the expanded counterpart of his mythological descriptions of the awakening to awareness of the unconscious, a transit through the flames of the passions whose numinous background reveals the self, the soul-building and stabilization that allows relationship with the self and other archetypal images, and increasing selfrealization. Henderson (2000) writes that individuation is a process that continues throughout the lifespan. Individuation and Alchemy Through the study of . . . collective transformation processes and through understanding of alchemical symbolism I arrived at the central concept of my psychology: the process of individuation. (Jung, cited in Schwartz-Salant, 1995b, p. 23) This quotation reveals that Jung’s study of alchemical symbolism was central to his mature view of individuation. I begin this section with a general description of alchemy and its correspondence with the process of personal transformation. Then I describe how Jung rediscovered alchemy as a counterpart to his individuation construct. I cite passages that show the close correspondence between the symbolism of Western
174 alchemy and Kundalini yoga. This is followed by a summary of key alchemical concepts. That summary is by no means complete, because Jung’s alchemical writings and teachings are too extensive to be fully covered in a brief chapter such as this. Next, I introduce the concept of subtle body as it pertains to alchemical operations. Finally, I briefly introduce Jung’s conception of the unus mundus (one world) and his related concepts of synchronicity and the psychoid unconscious. These late developments assist an understanding of Jung’s subtle body teachings in Chapter 6. Alchemy in historical context. Before the advent of chemistry, people experimented for two millennia with the transformation of materials to create such commodities as dyes for fabrics and metallic alloys. The scientific method had not yet been invented, so these experimenters sought correspondences among their observations of nature and alchemical operations to advance their work. The law of correspondences compared the qualities of phenomena and often reified them using broad concepts. An example of this reification is Aristotle’s description of the elements and their interaction, so that any liquid was comprised of the water element, heated liquids were comprised of water and fire, and so on (Schwartz-Salant, 1995b, p. 112). An aspect of the ancient worldview that is crucial to alchemy’s revelation of psychological experience is the lack of separation between subject and object. This separation appeared as an abstract concept after the creation of linear perspective drawing and that discipline’s enabling influence on the development of the scientific method Gebser, 1949-1953/1985; Bordo, 1987; Romanyshyn, 1989). The stunning achievements by people using the scientific method and the attempts by some alchemistic hucksters to attract financial support by claiming the ability to create gold from lead eventually
175 resulted in Western alchemy’s disrepute and disappearance. In light of such events, Schwartz-Salant writes (1995b, p. 11) that alchemy is incorrectly viewed by many as only a proto-science and a repository of projections. It can also be understood as “a conscious system engaged in by centuries of adepts who passed their knowledge from one to another.” Alchemy was practiced by the brightest and most profound thinkers through the ages, including Sir Isaac Newton (Schwartz-Salant, 1995b). Thus alchemy offers time-tested principles, and symbols of the process of personal transformation that encompass every passion of the soul and its spiritual strivings. Alchemists who referred to the “philosophical” elements of their art distinguished themselves from their contemporaries by acknowledging that a psychic process was occurring (Jung, 1969a; Schwartz-Salant, 1995b, pp. 5-6). In fact, when reading alchemical materials, the term philosophical is readily equated with the term symbolic. Jung’s rediscovery of alchemy. Jung’s first intuition that he would pursue an intense study of alchemy appeared in a dream, in 1926, when he found himself in a strange wing of his house, fascinated by a library comprised of 16th- and 17th- century texts. In another fateful dream the same year, he crossed a border during wartime and found himself in Italy. He entered an Italian estate whose gates clanged shut, and he was informed that “now we are caught in the seventeenth century” (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 202203). Jung began to read a variety of works from that period and came up dry until he received Richard Wilhelm’s translation of The Secret of the Golden Flower in 1928. This text about Chinese alchemy stirred his interest, so he commissioned a bookseller to collect alchemical texts and soon received a book containing some of alchemy’s classic works. Two years would pass before he could begin to make sense of these works. In
176 1930, he began a disciplined, ten-year exploration of many alchemical texts, crossreferencing repeated phrases and images to decipher their meaning (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 204-205; Schwartz-Salant, 1995b, p. 22). In alchemy, Jung writes that he had found a missing key for deciphering the nature of the unconscious and its transforming effect on the individual. His line of reasoning begins with the limitations of a psychology of consciousness, which can, to be sure, content itself with material drawn from personal life, but as soon as we wish to explain a neurosis we require an anamnesis which reaches deeper than the knowledge of consciousness. And when in the course of treatment unusual decisions are called for, dreams occur that need more than personal memories for their interpretation. (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 206) Jung had found that Analytical psychology coincided in a most curious way with alchemy. The experiences of the alchemists were, in a sense, my experiences, and their world was my world. This was, of course, a momentous discovery: I had stumbled upon the historical counterpart of my psychology of the unconscious. (1961/1989, p. 205) Jung’s rediscovery of alchemy offered him more than a historical grounding for his psychology. Alchemy’s storehouse of symbols yielded a more complete vision of personal transformation than he could observe with any patient (Schwartz-Salant, 1995b, p. 12). A bridge between East and West. I point out the central significance of alchemy to Jung’s formulation of his life-work because alchemy offers the most extensive symbolic framework for bridging his psychology and Kundalini yoga. Witness the following passage, which is excerpted from the culminating volume in Jung’s collected works (Jung 1955-1956/1963): The illumination comes to a certain extent from the unconscious, since it is mainly dreams that put us on the track of enlightenment. This dawning light
177 corresponds to the albedo, the moonlight which in the opinion of some alchemists heralds the rising sun. The growing redness (rubedo) which now follows denotes an increase of warmth and light coming from the sun, consciousness. This corresponds to the increasing participation of consciousness, which now begins to react emotionally to the contents produced by the unconscious. At first the process of integration is a “fiery” conflict, but gradually it leads over to the “melting” or synthesis of the opposites. The alchemists termed this the rubedo, in which the marriage of the red man and the white woman, Sol and Luna, is consummated. Jung, 1955-1956/1970, [sic] para. 30. (Jung, cited in SchwartzSalant, 1995b, pp. 107-108) Compare this excerpt with Georg Feuerstein’s description of the ida and pingala nadis, subtle channels that begin at the root chakra and culminate at the brow, where they are united: Twisting around the central pathway in helical fashion and crossing at each chakra are the ida-nadi and the pingala-nadi. The former is said to be on the left side of the sushumna-nadi, and the latter on the right side . . . . Symbolically, the former is associated with the cooling moon and the latter with the heating sun. (Feuerstein, 1998a, pp. 162-163) In Kundalini yoga, ida is envisioned as white and pingala as red (Avalon, 1972, p. lvi). As the goddess, Kundalini Shakti, rises through the chakras, practitioners experience intense heat. When She reaches the cerebral vault, a soothing, moonlike nectar is released. Thus the marriage of the red man/sun and the white woman/moon, accompanied by heat, is seen in each tradition. In an intensely alchemical image, a medieval poem by Gorakh tells how the yogin raises his semen up the central channel in the spine and this semen is transformed into nectar (amrita), which then resides in the cranial vault and flows downward, flooding “the yogin’s body with its fluid of immortality” (White, 1996, p. 243). Amrita further corresponds with the healing balsam of the Western alchemists. The literature of alchemy spans almost two millennia. Alchemy is said to originate in Egypt. Then it spread to Europe, India, China, and Tibet (White, 1996), so that the alchemy studied by Jung would naturally correspond with tantric alchemy. Thus,
178 the correspondences between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga are those of two branches of an ancient tradition. Jung’s individuation construct helps alchemy find its place in the modern world as a mode of thinking and being that restores the visionary capacity that was submerged during the so-called Enlightenment, which was marked by a conceptual separation between subject and object. The individuation construct evolved during the course of his career, with his deepening understanding of alchemical symbolism and its potential to reanimate a disenchanted Western consciousness.97 Processes of Western alchemy. Before discussing the psychological aspects of alchemy, let me give a brief sketch of the basic tools and principles of this endeavor. The alchemical opus (work) was typically conducted by male and female partners, an adept and his soror (sister).98 Materials were mixed and worked within an alchemical vessel, variously known as a vas, retort, or alembic. Materials were combined (coniunctio),
The separation of subject and object that began in the Italian Renaissance culminated in the scientific and industrial revolutions. The technological and economic achievements of these cultural transformations have been purchased at the cost of the rational person’s frequent separation from the lived moment. The depth psychologies of Freud and Jung and the attraction of Eastern spirituality, hatha yoga and body therapies arose in the West in response to that separation. This separation of subject from object, which included an alienation from spirituality, passion, and the body, is eloquently taken up by Gebser (1949-1953/1985), Bordo (1987), Romanyshyn (1989), and Tarnas, (1991), among others. The quest to reconnect with the body is the subject of Spiegelman’s (1992) moving account of his personal experience of working through body armor in a therapeutic modality developed by Wilhelm Reich. Since alchemy was a compensatory movement to the patriarchal Church, I wonder whether the soror could also be considered an adept. Such a conjecture is supported by the fact that the Axiom of Maria Prophetissa was passed down through millennia as a principal precept of the alchemical quest (Schwartz-Salant, 1995b).
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179 separated (separatio), evaporated and distilled (sublimatio), and coagulated (coagulatio).99 In analytical language, the coniunctio represents the entrainment (sympathetic resonance of organic systems) of the psyches of analyst and analysand (Spiegelman, 1996a, p. 170). Separatio separates out individual elements of psyche so they can be addressed. Sublimatio is the sublimation of libido in the Freudian sense of allowing it to flow from the powering of unconscious instincts to add vitality to more mature and differentiated aspects of the person. Coagulatio is the turning of elusive, subtle elements into earth. An example is the recognition that a series of fleeting thoughts emerge from a previously unconscious desire (Edinger, 1985, pp. 82-115). The moistening, heating, evaporation, and drying of the materials in the vessel were respectively correlated with their being comprised of the ancient elements: earth, water, fire, and air. These various operations were not simply contemplated as the mixing and treating of inanimate materials. Matter (from mater, or mother) was of Mother Earth, and the contents of the vessel and the experimenters were all participants in a universe enchanted by God, spirit, and soul. Male and female were seen as opposites to be combined in the materials, subject to the efforts of the male and female experimenters and their subjective relationship. The goal of the alchemical opus was the creation of the lapis, or philosopher’s stone, which could be at once poison or elixir and was capable of transforming any substance into its transcendent self, which is symbolized by the resurrected Christ in alchemical images. The poisonous nature of the elixir in its negative
This list of alchemical operations is by no means complete. For a fuller discussion of such operations, see Edinger (1985).
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180 aspect is its ability to overwhelm the person who is unprepared for an encounter with spiritual, numinous power. A positive aspect of this poisonous quality is the killing of ego to allow rebirth of the self (Edinger, 1984/1994, p. 29). The mysterious and problematic attempts to control the transformation of the base materials (prima materia) into noble ones were seen in the distillation of mercury,100 a seemingly miraculous fusion of metal and fluid that reflected the observer. The chameleon-like nature of Mercury and the potently possessive and paradoxical relationships among materials and experimenters were personified in the Spirit Mercurius, a chthonic (underworld) counterpart of the wholly good and spiritual Christ represented by Church dogma. Schwartz-Salant (1989, p. 46) offers the following summary of the subjective aspects of the opus as it appears in classic alchemical texts. The basic pattern . . . is one in which a preliminary incestuous condition is followed by union (the coniunctio), which, in turn, is followed by annihilation of the union and progresses toward a condition of radical dissociation. This is itself followed by a more stable form of union. (Schwartz-Salant, 1989, p. 46) This “incestuous condition” is a felt sense of eros, or relatedness, that at first has an uncomfortable intensity because it colors the analytic relationship with the intense affects and unconscious expectations of family relationships (Jung, 1920/1971), including the infant’s sensuous bond with its mother. The separation followed by radical dissociation recapitulates the infant’s initial experiences of separation from the safe, nurturing maternal orbit.
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Mercury plays a similar role in the symbolism of tantric alchemy (White,
1996).
181 The language of alchemy speaks directly to the analytic relationship in the symbols of the king and queen, Sol and Luna. Their heads (egos) remain separate and crowned (supported by the self), while their bodies merge in coitus and transform into the fused image of the Rebis, or hermaphrodite. The Rebis is a complex image that can symbolize several aspects of the analytic relationship. Possible negative aspects include: (a) fusion with the anima or animus, where sexuality is conflated with relationship or where gender identity is confused, (b) fusion dominated by splitting defenses where extreme attraction alternates with extreme aversion or hostility with neither polarity visible to the other, and (c) unconscious identification between the analyst and analysand, even though the analyst feels whole. Positive states symbolized by the Rebis include a healing imaginal connection between the analyst, analysand and analytic third (transcendent function), with its capacity to neutralize sexual energy. In this state, interactions previously dominated by persecutory states can exist without destroying the therapeutic alliance (Schwartz-Salant, 1989, pp. 122-125). As the analytic relationship survives such states, the merger, death, transformation, fusion, and revitalization of the king and queen symbolize the evolving relationship. Jung characterizes that relationship as one where the conscious and unconscious aspects of both participants interact. In Jung’s words: It would be quite natural to suppose that the king and queen represent a transference relationship in which the king stands for the masculine partner and the queen for the feminine partner. But this is by no means the case, because the figures represent contents which have been projected from the unconscious of the adept (and his soror mystica). Now the adept is conscious of himself as a man, consequently his masculinity cannot be projected, since this only happens to unconscious contents. As it is primarily a question of man and woman here,101 the The constellation of male and female roles can oscillate between both partners regardless of gender, and, I surmise, gender preference.
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182 projected fragment of personality can only be the feminine component of the man, i.e., his anima.xvi Similarly, in the woman’s case, only the masculine component can be projected. There is thus a curious counter-crossing of the sexes: the man (in this case the adept) is represented by the queen, and the woman (the soror mystica) by the king . . . . Luna is secretly in league with the adept, and Sol with his woman helper. The fact that the figures are royal expresses, like real royalty, their archetypal character; they are collective figures common to large numbers of people. (Jung, 1946/1966, pp. 219-220) Jung summarizes the complex relationship between the individuals and the conscious and unconscious aspects of their personalities intrapsychically and between each other with the following illustration.
Figure 9. Conscious and unconscious relationships in analysis and the alchemical opus. Arrow a = the conscious relationship. Arrows b = intrapsychic relationship between conscious and unconscious. Arrow c = unconscious relationship between both partners. Arrows d = relationships between conscious aspects of one party and the unconscious of the other. (Jung, 1946/1966, p. 221) Note. From The Practice of Psychotherapy: Essays on the Psychology of the Transference and other Subjects (p. 221), by C. G. Jung, 1946/1966, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Copyright 1982 by Princeton University Press, Princeton, NJ. Reprinted with permission. When describing Figure 9, Jung adds that the relationships are not necessarily as straightforward as this schematic illustration,
183 but in real life they are invariably mixed up . . . . Thus the king and queen each display every conceivable shade of meaning from the superhuman to the subhuman, sometimes appearing as a transcendental figure, sometimes hiding in the figure of the adept. (1946/1966, pp. 221-222) To illustrate the development of iterative cycles in the transference, SchwartzSalant quotes a sweeping summary of symbolic alchemical transformation images in an interview of Jung: “In the language of the alchemists, matter suffers until the nigredo [sic] disappears, when the ‘dawn’ (aurora) will be announced by the peacock’s tail102 (cauda pavonis) and a new day will break, the leukosis or albedo. But in this state of ‘whiteness’ one does not live in the true sense of the word, it is a sort of abstract, ideal state. In order to make it come alive it must have ‘blood,’ it must have what the alchemists called the rubedo, the ‘redness’ of life. Only the total experience of being can transform this ideal state of the albedo into a fully human mode of existence. Blood alone can reanimate a glorious state of consciousness in which the last trace of blackness is dissolved, in which the devil no longer has an autonomous existence but rejoins the profound unity of the psyche. Then the opus magnum is finished: the human soul is completely integrated.” (Eliade, cited in Schwartz-Salant, 1989, p. 46) Because the alchemists believed in the law of correspondences, they equated their internal states with the changing states of matter in the alchemical vessel. The nigredo is the initial phase of alchemy where one works the prima materia (base matter). This phase is repeated many times during the distillation process. In psychotherapy, the initial phase refers to a subtle connection experienced between analyst and analysand (the lesser coniunctio) that constellates unconscious material to be worked through. The integration of separation experience with the memory of being connected gives rise to kinship libido (Schwartz-Salant, 1989). The suffering of matter in the alchemist’s retort is the working of materials in an iterative distillation process. The dawn announced by the peacock’s tail
The symbol of the peacock’s tail is also seen in the ritual implements and rainbow symbolism of Tibetan Buddhist tantra (Hoagland, 1985), which shares the alchemical legacy (Cozort, 1986).
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184 may have been physically related to the iridescence of molten metals, but symbolically, this display of many colors appears in dreams of people who have nearly consolidated their individuation process. In the latter, “philosophical” instance, these colors symbolize a rebirth of affectivity after a person has formed sufficient self-structure to separate from primitive fusion with others and have sufficient self-soothing capacity to tolerate separateness. The same concept stated differently by Jung is that the cauda pavonis announces “the unfolding and realization of wholeness, once the dark dividing wall has broken down” (Jung, 1950/1969a, p. 375). The albedo could be seen in a whitening of the contents of the vas (vessel) after they have been heated. Psychologically, Jung writes that the albedo represents a realization of meaning (Jung, 1946/1966, pp. 281-282), which I infer to be a cognitive and affective integration of numinous experience. The vessel psychologically represents the containment of the analytic process as the place where intense, affective states can be explored and worked through rather than enacted them outside the consulting room. The rubedo (redness) is the reinfusion of libido in an adept and soror who have now integrated instinct and spirit. The psychic structure, or subtle body, has been tempered by the rigors of the entire alchemical opus to contain this more intense and integrated libido. Now a spiritual marriage between male and female, the greater coniunctio or hieros-gamos can take place. According to Jung: “the ultimate aim of alchemy was [to] produce a corpus subtile, a transfigured and resurrected body, i.e., a body that was at the same time spirit” (Jung, 1952/1968, pp. 427-428).103 In
I found the quoted text in Schwartz-Salant’s Jung on Alchemy (1995b, p. 16) but cite the primary source, which is Psychology and Alchemy (Jung, 1952/1968, pp. 427428, para. 511). In his otherwise excellent book, Schwartz-Salant incorrectly cites the same paragraph in Symbols of Transformation (Jung, 1952/1956, p. 331, para. 511).
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185 analytic terms, the transference and counter-transference has been worked sufficiently that both parties are able to consciously experience affective states and achieve mutual transformation, supported by kinship libido and mediated by the transcendent function of the self. The outcome of this greater coniunctio and the resulting spiritual relationship is personified by the resurrected Christ and his biblical promise to be present whenever two or more are gathered in His name (Matt. 18:20). This image of Christ is symbolic of the lapis, or philosopher’s stone. Jung’s own individuation process is reflected in this description of alchemical transformation. He deprived the anima of her power to possess him. This was one of the two acts that helped him emerge from his fateful descent. In this regard, I include the following lengthy quote, which says so much about the struggle to be an individual. In this transformation it is essential to take objects away from those animus or anima devils. They only become concerned with objects when you allow yourself to be self-indulgent. Concupiscentia is the term for that in the church . . . . The fire of desirousness is the element that must be fought against in Brahmanism, in Buddhism, in Tantrism, in Manicheaism, in Christianity. It is also important in psychology. When you indulge in desirousness, whether your desire turns toward heaven or hell, you give the animus or the anima an object; then it comes out in the world instead of staying inside in its place . . . . But if you can say: Yes, I desire it and I shall try to get it but I do not have to have it, if I decide to renounce, I can renounce it; then there is no chance for the animus or anima. Otherwise you are governed by your desires, you are possessed . . . . But if you have put your animus or anima into a bottle you are free of possession, even though you may be having a bad time inside, because when your devil has a bad time you have a bad time…. Of course he will rumble around in your entrails, but after a while you will see that it was right [to bottle him up]. You will slowly become quiet and change. Then you will discover that there is a stone growing in the bottle . . . . Insofar as self-control, non-indulgence, has become a habit, it is a stone . . . . When that attitude becomes a fait accompli, the stone will be a diamond.” (Jung, The Visions Seminars, cited in Edinger, 1994, p. 23)
186 The containment of one’s devils in the cauldron of the belly has a counterpart in the consciousness structure of the two lowest chakras where intense affect frequently accompanies synchronistic phenomena (see below). That cauldron is the equivalent of the alchemical vessel. To address another issue about Jung’s interpretation of Western alchemical texts, Jung’s profound interpretations may not represent the final word in understanding these symbols. Tantric traditions of the East that incorporate alchemical symbolism communicate advanced spiritual states and occult practices that may also be suggested in the alchemical symbolism of the West. I broach this subject because Western alchemical symbolism may speak of practice components that disappeared with Western oral lineages. I have not seen studies taking up this subject of whether Western alchemical texts refer to advanced spiritual practices comparable to those of tantric traditions, although such may exist. Synchronicity and the Psychoid Unconscious Jung did not confine his studies to the spiritual traditions of medievalism and antiquity. His curiosity extended to the sciences, especially the discoveries of modern physics, and included his collaborative efforts with the renowned physicist Wolfgang Pauli, his acquaintance with Albert Einstein, and his correspondence with the parapsychologist, J. B. Rhine. Late in his career he introduced a new vocabulary to include within his psychological theories the medieval idea of the unus mundus, where life events and incarnate beings are influenced by the mind of God (von Franz, 1972/1998).
187 His article, “Synchronicity: An Acausal Connecting Principle,” presents compelling arguments and amusing anecdotes to support the notion that timeless, numinous, archetypal forces without location influence our lives through meaningful coincidences. In this regard he even compares synchronistic events to interventions by divine forces, although he studiously avoids metaphysical claims to that effect (Jung, 1952/1960). Jung’s discussion of the psychoid unconscious, which is defined and described in Chapter 3, acknowledges a trans-psychic reality where both time and space are relativized and events are structured by the archetypes (Spiegelman, 1976, p. 108). Late in life, Jung envisioned synchronicity and the psychoid nature of the archetypes to more accurately describe the nature of paranormal events than the effects of local, measurable energy fields. Thus, he acknowledged a transcendent reality, the unus mundus, which is aperspectival and time-free. Although he could not conceive of the possibility of a universal consciousness where the ego is identical with the self, his own writing illustrates what a movement in that direction may look like. These words do not constitute a contradiction to his theory. They suggest to me what one may experience before achieving a unitary consciousness. The older I have become, the less I have understood or had insight into or known about myself. I am astonished, disappointed, pleased with myself. I am distressed, depressed, rapturous. I am all these things at once, and cannot add up the sum. I am incapable of determining ultimate worth or worthlessness; I have no judgment about myself and my life. There is nothing I am quite sure about. I have no definite convictions—not about anything, really . . . . In spite of all uncertainties, I feel a solidity underlying all existence and a continuity in my mode of being. (Jung, 1961/1989, p. 358) These remarkable words written at the end of Jung’s life reveal a letting go of the powerful intellectual drive toward meaning that so completely characterized the man. If
188 Jung had had this experience through the practice of one-pointed meditation rather than as an old man facing death, would he have realized unitary consciousness? He will remain forever silent on this point. The answer to this question can only by discovered by you and me in our personal experience. Concluding and Summary Remarks Jung’s understanding of the individuation process developed throughout his mature career. This understanding was fueled by his close encounter with the numinous and living psyche, which deepened during his courageous descent after his split with Freud. He sustained an intense, spiritual dedication to unfolding the language of the psyche as it appeared in worldwide spiritual traditions. Jung found parallels to many of the core concepts of individuation in his study of Eastern philosophies. Others emerge from his study of early Christian Gnosticism. His intuitions and innovations gained their most extensive historical grounding and symbolic amplification in his studies of Western alchemy. Although he acknowledged the counterpart of that tradition in Eastern cultures, he pursued the Western approach with greatest zeal because he felt grounded in the spiritual and scientific culture of Europe. As seen by his description of containing one’s devils in the cauldron of the belly, the development of the individuation construct reflects, as well, Jung’s increasing capacities to experience and interpret the intensity of the transference and countertransference. His descent into the unconscious was accompanied by his own anima transit, where he struggled for and achieved a balance that could sustain instinctive passions without overwhelming his spiritual, intellectual, and moral strivings. In this regard, he has characterized the encounter with the anima and its intense affects as a
189 masterpiece of personal development, compared to the apprentice-piece of confronting one’s shadow (Jung, 1954/1959a, p. 29). The tempering of one’s psychological self thus achieved is a soul-building task that strengthens the subtle body and infuses it with divine love and a symbolic attitude to withstand increasingly numinous archetypal experiences. At the time of the Kundalini seminar, Jung characterizes the intensity of this development through the imagery of the sun myth and its perilous plunge into the depths of the unconscious. The sun rises as it is reborn from the sea, and the initiate passes through fire before realizing the centering archetype of the self in the heart.104 The same psychic development in the individual and the relational field finds a much richer description in Jung’s writing about alchemy, the historic counterpart to his theory of individuation. The next chapter examines the diamond that is forged at the completion of the alchemical opus and its intermediate, transitional states. That diamond is the subtle body.
Although this does not occur in the heart chakra according to J. S. Harrigan (personal communication, July 2, 2001).
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190 Chapter 6 Subtle Body From the dawn of history, people have expressed their incomplete understanding of life’s mysteries in religious symbolism. The most profound of all mysteries is life itself. A painting by Gauguin depicts this mystery with a panorama showing people of all ages, wild and domesticated animals, and the statue of a goddess in a Tahitian paradise. In a reference to the Garden of Eden, a strong, young man at the center of the painting reaches up to grasp a piece of fruit on a tree. The painting bears the inscription, D’ou venons nous Que sommes nous Ou allons nous In translation this reads, “Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?” People have eaten from the Tree of Knowledge for millennia, but science only offers an incomplete response to the middle question. Our collective beliefs about subtle body represent the best attempts to answer the first and last questions—the alpha of our origin, and the omega of our ultimate destiny. This chapter traces the evolution of the subtle body concept from the shamanic tradition to the present. I begin by sketching the subtle body beliefs of ancient peoples and the evolution of those beliefs. I employ Jean Gebser’s idea of consciousness structures to connect the evolution105 of culture with subtle body symbolism. Next, I discuss Jung’s comments about subtle body phenomena in alchemical parallels to the
Gebser himself would disagree with my use of the word evolution, because his idea of the emerging integral consciousness structure sees all consciousness structures rooted in the ever-present Origin, which is inherently time-free. These structures exist in potential regardless of their emergence in history. I prefer to locate the historical, evolutionary view within the time/space continuum and see the aperspectival Origin to be
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191 individuation process. This is followed by a summary of his subtle body teachings in the seminar on Nietzsche’s Zarathustra. Then I briefly present the subtle body mystery traditions of Islam and Kabbalah to help place Jung’s alchemical discussion in context. Subtle Body and Shamanism The earliest religious form we know is shamanism, which coalesced the experience of soul, an invisible self-representation that brings together the lived, sensate present and the awesome forces of nature. Jean Gebser writes that soul appeared with the inception of the magic structure of consciousness, when, as Plato said, “the soul [came into being]106 simultaneously with the sky” (quoted in Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, pp. 4560). Thus the story of subtle body began when time was first acknowledged as a cyclical procession of day, night, and the seasons. The emergence of soul also signified the birth of imagination, which envisions the possible and co-mingles experiences, both desired and feared. Imagination loosened the shackles of the purely sensate moment as it separated us from our spontaneous innocence. Thus the emergence of imagination and soul marked our exit from the Garden of Eden. With the ability to imagine and symbolically reassemble—or re-member—experience, one’s life became a unique, individual journey, if only dimly perceived and bound by tribal ritual. According to Gebser, in early, magic cultures, a person was a unity not yet able to recognize the world as a whole, only the details (or “points”) which reach his still sleep-like consciousness and in turn stand for
ever-present in our world and in an acausal realm without distinctions. The usefulness of this dual worldview is addressed in the next chapter. Feuerstein (1995) also takes care to modify the historic dates of inception of Gebser’s consciousness structures.
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The bracketed text is Gebser’s.
192 the whole. Hence the magic world is also a world of pars pro toto, in which the part can and does stand for the whole. (p. 46) Hence, the alchemists’ law of correspondences begins with the emergence of magic consciousness. The “points” that stand for the whole can be interchanged at will. Herein . . . lies the root of plurality of souls, which to magic man was a reality . . . . Man replies to the forces streaming toward him with his own corresponding forces: he stands up to Nature. He tries to exorcise her, to guide her; he strives to be independent of her; then he begins to be conscious of his own will. (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 46) The magic structure is also reflected in the chakra system. Its consciousness is vital, of svadhisthana chakra, which is located in the gut. Its mode of cognition is participation mystique, or, in developmental terms, a recapitulation of infantile fusion with mother’s protective presence. Its instinctive expression is a will to power translated into the making of tools, which finds its psychological correlate in the toddler’s separation and individuation.107 Gebser writes that Witchcraft and sorcery, totem and taboo, are the natural means by which [magic man] seeks to free himself from the transcendent power of nature, by which his soul strives to materialize within him and to become increasingly conscious of itself. (1949-1953/1985, p. 46) These are the ritual practices of shamanism. Roger Walsh writes that “shaman” is derived from the word saman of the Tungus people of Siberia, meaning “one who is excited, moved, raised.” It may be derived from an ancient Indian word meaning “to heat oneself or practice austerities”xviii or from a Tungus verb meaning “to know.”xix (Walsh, 1990, p. 8)
For a classic discussion of the separation/individuation process, see The Psychological Birth of the Human Infant: Symbiosis and Individuation by Mahler, Pine & Bergman (1975).
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193 Shamans were the leaders of their community, the healers and seers, the first priests. Shamans of recent, indigenous cultures are those who deliberately enter altered states of consciousness and travel as souls to commune with nature spirits, demons, and ancestors. Their methods of achieving ecstatic trance may include creating and meditating upon traditional images, speaking power words, or heating the body in ceremonial practices such as the North American Indian sweat lodge. They may pursue intensified consciousness through ritual drumming or dancing, or embark on austere journeys in the wilderness, such as a vision quest. They may also achieve altered states by ingesting sacred psychoactive plants.108 The intensified, ecstatic consciousness of the shaman was achieved after sufficient coalescence of the ego enabled one to withstand encounters with the numinosum without dissociation (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 193). Gebser assigns the numinous experience to the magic structure of consciousness because it is primordial and expresses man’s predominantly emotional reaction to experiences which he cannot comprehend or understand. In a sublimated form the numinous experience still exists in our culture, . . . the feeling of religious awe, the “pious shiver” which overwhelms [a person] during the sacraments. (p. 193) The shaman bravely encounters the numinosum to retrieve people’s lost souls, cast or remove spells, or petition for favorable treatment by the personified forces of the spirit world. Shamans seek signs and visions to foresee and steer future events and guide their people. They keep nature in balance by guiding the rituals of the community and making sacrificial offerings to propitiate the spirits governing the animals they hunt, the plants they harvest, and the powers that control the weather.
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This list is not necessarily complete but gives a sense of shamanic practices.
194 In traditional societies, shamans may be female or male. They may inherit their calling through a familial lineage or receive their vocation through an initiatory illness in response to a numinous encounter in which they are chosen by the spirit world (Walsh, 1990, p. 34). This initiation often involves a symbolic death in which the shaman has a vision of being dismembered, stripped to the bone, and then experiencing an image of rebirth where one’s emptied body cavities may be filled with jewels. Herein lies a correspondence with the manipura chakra, whose name means “fullness of jewels.” In this regard, Jung interprets the entry into manipura consciousness as an initiation—one where a person experiences the dawning light of the sun (Jung, 1933/1996, pp. 30-31). The shamanic consciousness is described by Jung, following Levy-Bruhl, as “primitive” (Clarke, 1994), although Gebser cautions us against demeaning early cultures by using a pejorative label that he sees originating in the hubris of European scientific belief. He adds that if we look down on so-called, primitive people, we deny an essential basis of our own humanity109 (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 45). I see the magic consciousness structure living with us today as an inception of divine manifestation that is reflected in our desire to merge with the beloved. According to Gebser, this consciousness structure is seen in the drive of industrial societies to control nature (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985).
Gebser differs from Jung in not considering the scientific, rational consciousness an evolutionary advance beyond earlier consciousness structures. Instead, he sees all consciousness structures emerging from a numinous, ever-present Origin and comprising fundamental aspects of human consciousness that are only suppressed to our detriment (1949-1953/1985, p. 155). He sees scientific rationalism that is valid within its own fields of application being superseded by an integral consciousness structure that is not confined within measured calculations that neglect living wholeness.
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195 The element of shamanism that is the focus of this chapter is the appearance of subtle body as soul and spirit—terms with equivalent meanings in the magic consciousness structure—to personify nature and its inhabitants. Gebser describes early conceptions of soul as follows: Some primitive tribes ascribe to a person up to thirty souls, and texts from the pyramids indicate the dead king—as such more powerful—possessed of up to fourteen kas. These souls are not merely souls of name, blood, breath, and shadow; there are also those which depart the body only at death, others during life, still others which depart for intermittent periods. Some assume a separate existence after departing from the body, some seem to lead a separate existence altogether; and there are also human, animal, vegetative souls, souls of mountains, caves, waters, objects, stars, and constellations. (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 197) The idea of soul is related to mana, a concept that resembles that of libido and is transmitted, gained, or lost between a person and other people, living things, objects, and places. Gebser sees the point as the symbolic image of the magic structure. The person’s consciousness, symbolized by the point, has no spatial or temporal awareness and does not differentiate self from other. This consciousness of the point is reflected in alchemical texts as the spark of the divine that is found even in the basest matter. The mythic structure historically followed the magic one and is geometrically symbolized by the circle. Here, the circle represents the consciousness of cyclical time (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985). Gebser places the emergence of soul as a distinct entity in the mythic structure. He writes that “the first truly recognizable concept of soul is the Greek psyche, the first notion of spirit the Greek nous of the pre-Socratics and the logos of Heraclitus which is also present in the Gospel of St. Johnxxvi” (pp. 197-198).
196 The mental consciousness structure arrived with the move toward monotheism where gods became God, and demons became the devil. With its inception, individuality also came to the fore, and souls became soul. With the birth of mental consciousness, Plato introduced the opposites of body and spirit with the soul as mediator between them (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 198). The symbol of the mental structure is the triangle whose vertices represent two opposites synthesized by a third. The synthesis of opposites and creation of the third are symbolized by the lapis of the alchemists, and the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost of Christian doctrine. Hence, alchemy may be seen as a conception of the emerging mental structure before the reification of rationalism had separated subject from object. In reviving alchemy, Jung revitalized Western consciousness with a way of thinking that remains connected with the numinosum via the transformative, living symbol. Gebser notes the differentiation of soul into life and death aspects in Egyptian and Greek cultures. (Jung cites parallels in the Chinese shen and p’o. See below.) Gebser explores the life and death soul duality as follows: From the death-soul there is a fragile conceptual link to the spirits of the dead; and in these souls of the dead, or “demons,” the notion of spirits takes on the character of a concept. These “demons” are mana with a negative effectuality around which all kinds of apparitions, ghosts, spectres, and spooks come into play. Yet the concept has also its positive aspects, such as the tutelary spirit or angel which, from a psychological standpoint, is nothing more than the outward projection of the individual’s inner sense of security. (1949-1953/1985, pp. 229230) Soul’s death pole became identified with spirit and is symbolically associated with the air and wind. It appears in symbolic figures with wings and in associations to winged creatures. The life-pole of the soul is associated with water and the body. Here,
197 spiritual consciousness is in danger of drowning in the unconscious. Gebser relates these life and death polarities of soul to the symbol, which he sees as a mythic inception that is inherently dual, with each pole including a seed of the other as seen in the Chinese T’aiKi. In the symbol, over-identification with either pole obscures awareness of the other pole (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985). This dilemma is addressed by Jung’s conception of the compensatory nature of symbols presented by the psyche.
Figure 10. T’ai-Ki, the symbol110 of the cosmic male and female principles forever interconnected, with each polarity including the seed of the other. Note. From The Ever-Present Origin (p. 220) by J. Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, Athens, OH: Ohio University Press. Public domain. The archetypal quest of the embodied person to know the divine presents a dilemma of how to reconcile manifest multiplicity with the unity of Origin sensed in numinous experience. The individual’s struggle to realize one’s divine nature is most completely portrayed in alchemical texts. This process is translated for the scientific, Western psyche in Jung’s interpretations of alchemy. The section that follows focuses on Jung’s interpretations of alchemical texts.
Gebser argues that the image of the T’ai-Ki is rooted in the archaic consciousness structure, and is thus pre-symbolic (p. 221).
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198 Subtle Body in Alchemy The alchemical opus is a process of transforming base materials into noble ones by an artifex (alchemical practitioner, either adept or soror) whose consciousness is numinously conjoined with the materials being crucified and transformed in the vessel. Jung writes that “the alchemical operation consisted essentially in separating the prima materia, the so-called chaos, into the active principle, the soul, and the passive principle, the body, which are then reunited in personified form in the coniunctio or ‘chymical marriage’” (Jung, 1929/1983, pp. 122-123). Here the soul, as “active principle,” accesses the eternal life of the spirit to vitalize the body and inspire the imagination. The fertile imaginations of the alchemists created many terms for subtle body. The words that suggest the vitalizing, inspirational function of the soul are breath-soul, pneuma (spirit), prana (breath), hun (cloud spirit) (Jung, 1929/1983, pp. 38-39), corpus subtile (subtle body) (Jung, 1946/1960, p. 194), and anima as ligamentum corporis et spiritus (soul as binding factor between body and spirit) (Jung, 1950/1969a, p. 312). According to Jung: The ancient view held that the soul was essentially the life of the body, the lifebreath, or a kind of life force which assumed spatial and corporeal form at the moment of conception, or during pregnancy, or at birth, and left the dying body again after the final breath. The soul in itself was a being without extension, and because it existed before taking corporeal form and afterwards as well, it was considered timeless and thence immortal. (Jung, 1931/1960, p. 345) Here, one sees the correspondence between the ancient ideas of soul and alchemical thinking, where breath corresponds with the element, air, and the element that is paradoxically unextended and omnipresent is ether. In the same passage, Jung amplifies the concept of the breath soul across cultures: The Latin words animus, ‘spirit’, and anima, ‘soul’, are the same as the Greek anemos, ‘wind’. The other Greek word for ‘wind’, pneuma, also means ‘spirit’. In Gothic we find the same word in us-anana, ‘to breathe out’, and in Latin it is
199 anhelare, ‘to pant’. In Old High German, spiritus sanctus was rendered by atum, ‘breath’. In Arabic, ‘wind’ is rih, and ruh is ‘soul, spirit’. The Greek word psyche has similar connections; it is related to psychein, ‘to breathe’, psychos, ‘cool’, psychros, ‘cold, chill’, and physa, ‘bellows’. These connections show clearly how in Latin, Greek, and Arabic the names given to the soul are related to the notion of moving air, the “cold breath of the spirits.” [sic] And this is probably the reason why the primitive view also endows the soul with an invisible breath-body. (Jung, 1931/1960, p. 345) The body as a passive principle that is affected by soul and spirit is the Chinese kuei, which to Jung is an equivalent of his term, “somatic unconscious,” (Jung, 1988, pp. 441-442, 449) the chthonic or earthly part of the soul (Jung, 1954/1959b, p. 59). It is distinguished from hun, which means “cloud-demon,” a higher breath-soul belonging to the yang principle and therefore masculine. After death, hun rises upward and becomes shen, the “expanding and self-revealing” spirit or god. “Anima,” called p’o, and written with the characters for “white” and “demon,” that is, the “white ghost,” belongs to the lower, earthbound, bodily soul, the yin principle, and is therefore feminine. After death, it sinks downward and becomes kuei (demon), often explained as “the one who returns” (i.e., to earth), a revenant, a ghost. (Jung, 1929/1983, p. 39) Jung defines the somatic unconscious as the subtle body in the aspect where it “ends in the utter darkness of matter” as the “physiological unconscious” (Jung, 1988, p. 441). In the same Nietzsche’s Zarathustra seminar lecture of March 13, 1935, Jung adds: Somewhere our unconscious becomes material, because the body is the living unit, and our conscious and our unconscious are embedded in it: they contact the body. Somewhere there is a place where the two ends meet and become interlocked. And that is the place where one cannot say whether it is matter, or what one calls “psyche.” (p. 441) As the realm where body and psyche meet, the somatic unconscious corresponds with the prima materia. Here is where the history and concepts of soul connect with the psychotherapeutic enterprise. Schwartz-Salant (1998) writes that the prima materia is constellated by the coniunctio between analyst and analysand, when unconscious material is awakened in the transferential field. The prima materia is numinous and is experienced
200 as initial chaos in the confusion of transferential relatedness where the past colors the present through projective processes, including the constellation of complexes and psychotic parts of the personality. The mad parts of the psyche typically involve a double-bind situation111 (Watzlawick, Beavin & Jackson, 1967, p. 212-213), where a person simultaneously experiences impulses to fuse with the Great Mother archetype, equivalent in psychoanalytic literature to the infantile mother imago, and defend against the devouring nature of that fusion. Prima materia is comprised of the totality of soul, of the upper and lower forces, (Schwartz-Salant, 1998, p. 124) and is where the alchemists find the sparks of the soul. Spiegelman (1996a, p. 167) notes a correspondence between the somatic unconscious and the chakras that reside lower in the body, including muladhara, svadhisthana and manipura. He correlates the psychic unconscious, which is the spiritual opposite to the somatic unconscious, with the higher padmas, including visuddha, ajna, and sahasrara. He writes that the somatic unconscious and psychic unconscious are united at the heart center, anahata.
The authors share the following definition of the double bind that was originally postulated by Bateson, Jackson, Haley and Weakland: In a somewhat modified and expanded definition, the ingredients of a double bind can be described as follows: (1) Two or more persons are involved in an intense relationship that has a high degree of . . . survival value for one, several, or all of them. (2) In such a context, a message is given which is so structured that (a) it asserts something, (b) it asserts something about its own assertion and (c) these two assertions are mutually exclusive. Thus, if the message is an injunction, it must be disobeyed to be obeyed . . . . The meaning of the message is, therefore, undecidable . . . . (3) Finally, the recipient of the message is prevented from stepping outside the frame set by this message . . . . Therefore, even though the message is logically meaningless, it is a pragmatic reality: he cannot not react to it, but neither can he react to it appropriately . . . . A person in a double bind situation is therefore likely to find himself punished . . . for correct perceptions, and defined as “bad” or “mad” for even insinuating that there should be a discrepancy between what he does see and what he “should” see. (Watzlawick, Beavin & Jackson, 1967, pp. 212-213)
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201 In an extensive passage, Jung finds a number of names for these sparks in the texts of the alchemists and correlates the immanent light of the soul to his psychology and to pre-scientific conceptions of the cosmos (Jung, 1946/1960, pp. 190-199). This light of the soul, called lumen naturae, corresponds with the stars in the heavens, where it is described as the corpus astrale (astral body—see below). It corresponds with the light of the Monad present in human beings that is invisible to many (the sol invisibilis or imago Dei of the alchemist Gerhard Dorn) (Jung, 1946/1960, p. 193). This light represents the immanence of the world-soul (anima mundi) and the Spirit of God, which Jung sees as symbolic of the self and its unifying influence. Jung considers multiple, fiery sparks of the soul, which are seen in alchemical texts as an inner firmament of stars, to be representative of the archetypes and the multiple aspects of personality embodied in complexes.112 The “fishes’ eyes” of the alchemists are a similar symbol of self and archetypes that also correspond with the symbol of the rainbowcolored peacock’s tail (cauda pavonis) (p. 197). I find a correlation between the fish’s eyes, and the life soul, whereas the star-like scintillae (sparks) relate to the astral or death soul described by Gebser (1949-1953/1985). The corpus astrale links alchemy with astrology in the medieval worldview. Here is how Jung summarizes references to the astral body in alchemical literature:
“Complexes” as used here does not necessarily refer to neurotic or psychotic parts of the personality, but to distinctive aspects of personality that are not identical with the self. For instance, the ego is considered by Jung to be a complex that emerges from the self. Thus I am speaking of the personality as self manifested in opposites in earthly reality.
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202 Just as the firmament was created in the midst of the waters above and below the heavens, so in man there is a shining body, the radical moisture,113 which comes from the sphere of the heavenly waters.lxxxiv This body is the “sidereal114 balsam,” which maintains the animal heat. The spirit of the supracelestial115 waters has its seat in the brain, where it controls the sense organs. In the microcosm the balsam dwells in the heart,lxxxv like the sun in the macrocosm.116 The shining body is the corpus astrale, the “firmament” or “star” in man. Like the sun in the heavens, the balsam in the heart is a fiery, radiant centre. (Jung, 1967/1983, pp. 151-152) In this text of Jung’s, the heart’s heat is related not only to sun but also to the quickening heat of the sun’s fire element attributed to a hen’s warming an egg and its yellow yolk. “The corpus glorificationis, the resurrected body of the alchemists, . . . would coincide with the corpus astrale” (p. 167) and also the corpus celeste, corpus glorificationis, or corpus incorruptible, all terms for the resurrection body, which is symbolized by the picture of the risen Christ in the alchemical text, Rosarium Philosophorum. This resurrected subtle body corresponds with the Chinese shen and the lapis philosophorum (philosopher’s stone). Sensus naturae is the spiritual connection between animals and the anima mundi (also known as Mercurius or the Holy Ghost). This “nature sense” in the pre-scientific worldview is the reason animals can prophesize. Such prophesy is inferred when, for instance, ants come out of the ground and dogs howl in anticipation of earthquakes, or when an animal symbolically participates in a synchronicity. A well-known example of
The “radical moisture” would correspond with the suksma (subtle) aspect of the water element in the svadhisthana chakra of Kundalini yoga, as described in Chapter 3.
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Related to stars or constellations (Merriam-Webster’s, 1997).
This “spirit of the supracelestial waters” would be found in the upper brain center that corresponds with the svadhisthana chakra. Note the correspondence to the purusa located in the heart by Kundalini yoga, as discussed in Chapter 3.
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203 the latter is Jung’s story of a scarab-like beetle entering his study while he was doing therapy. This synchronicity was sufficient to shock a patient out of denying the reality of the psyche (Jung, 1952/1960, p. 438; 1946/1960, pp. 190-199). Another set of phenomena that also comes under the term, “subtle body,” is the combined subtle body of two people in relationship. This subtle body is also known as the “third,” or the interactive field in analysis. It is discussed in alchemical writings about the coniunctio where the bodies of the king and queen are conjoined and yet their heads remain separate. Thus, their relationship is a “third thing” where only some elements are fused. In the analytic relationship, one might consider the subtle bodies of both participants experiencing the coniunctio to be influencing each other, or entrained,117 symbolized in alchemical texts by the conjoined king and queen.
Entrainment is the response of one living system to another, where a “strange attractor” (a term from chaos theory) offers a path of least resistance for an oscillating, living system to come into resonance with another living system (Beverly Rubik, personal communication, August 14, 1998).
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204 Figure 11. Illustration from the medieval text, Rosarium Philosophorum, which shows the conjoined bodies of the King and Queen in the alchemical vessel. Note. From Jung on Alchemy (p. 203), by N. Schwartz-Salant, 1995, Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press. Public domain. This state of fusion is called projective identification by the object relations school of psychoanalysis and “unconscious identity, psychic infection, participation mystique, induction, and . . . feeling-into” by Jung. The independent discovery of this phenomenon suggests that there is an underlying process being recognized by trained observers in these different psychological schools (Gordon, cited in Schwartz-Salant, 1989, p. 98). Following is a brief detour to note the important connection between these corresponding phenomena, which suggest the presence of subtle field effects in relationships. “Psychic Infection” and Related Concepts The psychoanalytic primitive defense called projective identification was apparently formulated as such by Melanie Klein independently and approximately concurrently with Jung’s formulation of similar concepts. Klein defined projective identification as primitive defense where the infant expels harmful split-off parts of the ego into the mother to injure or control her by taking possession of her118 (Klein, 1946/1975, p. 183). Bion reformulated projective identification as a normal, primitive
I find that dissociative defenses often accompany projective ones in that dissociation is an opposite of projection. I see this especially in projective identification where opposite states may be experienced by two participants in a relationship. I also see it in the similar concept of the “complementary countertransference” named by Racker, where the analyst experiences one of a pair of roles encompassed within an analysand’s conflicted state (Samuels, 1985, p. 186).
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205 (because infantile) communication between mother and infant on the one hand, and on the other hand, as a psychotic defense in its severe form whereby hated object representations are forcefully split into bits and then ejected into another person119 (Bleandonu, 1994, pp. 120-121). The psychoanalytic formulation is helpful to followers of analytical psychology because it points out possible developmental difficulties and highlights the polarized effect where the patient feels relieved but the analyst experiences painful ejected contents. The psychoanalytic framework then notes that a developmental advance is enabled in the patient if the analyst remains conscious while experiencing the ejected content and metabolizes it by processing unconscious material to formulate a verbal interpretation. Allen Bishop (1997) describes this process as “turning gristle into Gerber’s.”
I have found the projective identification model useful within a systems framework to describe the polarized processes of progressive infatuation or an escalation of potentially violent, mutual hatred. In the case of infatuation, one party experiences the other as the embodiment of an idealized imago and responds to the other in such a way that the other experiences the first participant as a representation of their own, idealized imago. As each projects their need for fusion with the idealized Other and sees themselves idealized in return, a closed feedback loop is activated that escalates mutual idealizations, with an intense build-up of positive affect that encompasses both poles of the needy lover/idealized lover drama. When one party fails to carry out the unconscious script of the other’s idealized object representation, a breach is easily felt that may be experienced by those lacking self-soothing ego structure as an abandonment, activating narcissistic rage. Now, replace “idealized” with “denigrated” above and imagine the need for fusion being replaced by the need to defend or control a part object (a primitive introject) by a narcissistically wounded individual and you have a formula for a violent interaction seen in spousal abuse or road rage. In either case, the interaction may be more than simply one of polarized objects but may be an entrainment of complex, strange attractors, experienced as introjected scripts that also entrain to archetypes interacting in an age-old, mythic drama. People with sufficient ego strength may then experience the painful process of separation and individuation, with the possibility of building a sustained psychological relationship. For more about relinquishing projections in love, see Jung, 1925/1981.
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206 The Jungian, alchemical construct of this process can be useful to psychoanalysts in noting the psychoid and synchronistic characteristics that may more truly describe the activity of such unconscious contents in a manner that can be formulated as quantum or parapsychological events. The Jungian model also has the advantage of formulating the processing of primitive states over the course of treatment, noting the symbols that may appear in dreams and active imagination and their transformations over time. Jung finds rich source material for understanding that symbolism in the imagery and writing of the alchemists. He also attends to the number symbolism that appears in axioms that serve as hints to the wise (Schwartz-Salant, 1989, 1998). Two Alchemical Axioms of Transformation Schwartz-Salant and Spiegelman discuss two of these axioms that appear in Jung’s discussion of alchemical writing, the Axiom of Maria Prophetissa and the Axiom of Ostanes. I briefly summarize the import of these axioms below with the caveat that they are keys to profound experiences in the interactive field. As such, I refer interested readers to extensive discussions of these axioms and other alchemical principles in the works of Jung and Jungian writers, such as Edinger, Schwartz-Salant, Spiegelman, and von Franz, among others. The Axiom of Maria Prophetissa (Axiom of Maria) states that “out of the One comes the Two, out of the Two comes the Three, and from the Third comes the One as the Fourth” (von Franz, cited in Schwartz-Salant, 1989, p. 138). This enigmatic formula is translated by Schwartz-Salant as follows: The “One” signifies a state prior to an established order, for example, . . . the way an analytic session is experienced in its opening phase . . . . The “Two” is the beginning of making “sense” of the phenomenon, the emerging of a pair of opposites. At this stage which most forms of analysis accomplish, the analyst
207 becomes aware of thoughts or feelings, body states, or perhaps a tendency to wander mentally and to lose focus. Such states of mind can reflect the same states in the analysand . . . . The “Three” is the creation of a third thing, the field. (Schwartz-Salant, 1998, pp. 64-65) Schwartz-Salant adds that the analyst now has an opportunity to assign the content being perceived to the patient or to suspend judgment regarding whose content has been constellated. This voluntary suspension of attributing psychic content establishes the analytic container as an alchemical vessel. Within this vessel, or temenos, the analyst and analysand are mutually affected by the field. The analyst’s knowledge and ability to withstand intense affective states enables the processing of primitive material. SchwartzSalant writes that: The “Four” is the experience of the Third as it now links to a state of Oneness of existence . . . . In the movement to the Fourth, the alchemical idea that all substances . . . have two forms—one “ordinary” and the other “philosophical”— can be experienced. In essence, affects cease to be experienced as “ordinary,” as “things,” and instead become something more—states of wholeness. (SchwartzSalant, 1998, p. 65) The stages of the Third and the Fourth are known to alchemists as the coniunctio, or sacred marriage (p. 66). Spiegelman puts the alchemical framework in the context of the complex relationship between analyst and analysand, starting with a summary of the relationships between adept and soror introduced by Jung and covered in Chapter 5: The interplay of analyst and patient implies at least a foursome: analyst and his anima or her animus, the patient and his or her anima or animus. Freud always felt that at least three people were present, psychologically, in the sexual act— referring to the presence in the psyches of the couple of the primal scene and the Oedipus complex. (Spiegelman, 1996a, p. 118) Spiegelman’s account of his experience as an analyst differs from that of SchwartzSalant. In Spiegelman’s case, “the unconscious usually appears and effects me as a
208 ‘third’, between analysand and analyst, rather than as a fourth. For example, a shadow figure or content is projected onto me, which evokes a shadowy reaction” (p. 118). If, as a result of experiencing the patient’s projection, Spiegelman feels wounded and misunderstood, the hurt may induce “the archetype of the ‘wounded healer,’ leading to further awareness and healing. The ‘fourth,’ in such conditions, usually emerges only later on . . . . But [he adds that] these foursomes are not always what Jung reported” (p. 118). The important point is that: In any case, the analyst is ultimately touched in his own soul by any work which goes beyond superficial counseling, and this demands increased consciousness on his or her part. We continually get affected and infected and thus have to work on ourselves, as well as with the patient . . . . In the long run, [this] helps us realize our myth as healers: we continually are re-wounded and have to be healed in deeper fashion. (p. 119) The Axiom of Maria is said by Schwartz-Salant to be an excellent map for working with complexes that exist as a simple opposition of desires (Schwartz-Salant, 1998, p. 84). The Axiom of Ostanes, in contrast, addresses paradoxical complexities of union, death, and the creation of stable structure (p. 151). Here is how the Axiom of Ostanes is stated: “A nature is delighted by another nature, a nature conquers another nature, a nature dominates another nature” (p. 151). The context in which this axiom is used reveals that “a nature is delighted by another nature” connotes a psychologically fused state. That state is comprised of psychosis-inducing double-bind roles where one wants simultaneously to merge and withdraw—a situation of mutually annihilating opposites (p. 153). Schwartz-Salant describes what the constellation of this state is like in experiential terms. I can vouch for the accuracy of his description, having experienced an almost identical situation only last week.
209 As she spoke, I felt a bodily tension, a desire to withdraw, and a sense that what she was saying felt odd. I was torn in two directions—to answer her and not to answer—and I would have liked to answer so that the painful feelings would leave. But I could not honestly answer her question without splitting myself away from my feelings. As I felt into this field more fully, trying to join my mind to my bodily and emotional reactions so that I would gain some image that made sense of the interaction, I recognized that she was genuinely asking for understanding and inquiry. Yet she was also communicating an opposite message that she did not want any reflections on my part but only to bask in the glory of her experience, turning it all back on to herself. (Schwartz-Salant, 1998, p. 153) Schwartz-Salant adds that the analyst does not generally deduce this state but must go through a state of “unknowing,” that is, through [a] state of chaos in which he or she truly feels lost and without orientation. In this condition, the analyst may discover ways in which his or her mind and emotions cycle through different states and then recognize them to be opposites. But the states will not be clearly distinct, such as love and hate. Rather, . . . they [may] be unique to the individual encounter. (p. 153) He adds that one can simultaneously envision relational interactions through both axioms, which are not mutually exclusive. For instance, one can consciously engage the chaotic quality of such a field as the One of the Axiom of Maria, and contain its conflicted states in a field that begins to be experienced as oscillating. This move differentiates the Two of the Axiom of Maria, and so on (p. 154). The second two phrases in the Axiom of Ostanes are paradoxical. Both phrases— “a nature conquers another nature,” and “a nature dominates another nature”—can be read in two ways. The conquering and domination can be won through aggression or through detachment and love. For example, if Schwartz-Salant had yielded to the patient’s demand to support her unconscious, identified experience, he would have reinforced her complex and dissociated from his feelings. He would thus have been conquered. In doing so, he would have violated one of the basic precepts of depth therapy by colluding with rather than abstaining from gratifying a neurotic or psychotic wish.
210 Through such an act, analysis can reach an impasse, and the desire to collude with the patient’s complex can dominate the “other nature” of successful analysis, the support of consciousness and healing. Read the other way, the conquering and domination of the double bind can be achieved if one abstains from either gratification or resistance, allowing consciousness of the double bind to emerge from chaos. The establishment and maintenance of a therapeutic alliance helps contain the intensity of the process, as well as the analyst’s ability to bear intense, conflicted states while struggling for consciousness, supported by faith and love. Spiegelman (1996a, p. 167) observes that the heart center, anahata, is the place where the somatic unconscious and psychic unconscious meet to link body and spirit. Jung notes that the purusha or germ of the self in Kundalini yoga resides in anahata (Jung, 1996, p. 39). However, as noted in Chapter 3, Harrigan states that her oral lineage and others teach that although various translations of the Upanishads state that the purusha resides in the chest, these scriptures are referring to its being located in the hrit chakra, which is also in the chest, but is located on the left, not in the center, where one finds anahata. Hrit is only accessed by some who have achieved a complete Kundalini rising120 (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, July 2, 2001). For more information about Kundalini risings, please see the next chapter. However, I infer that stimulation of the heart chakra, anahata, correlates with empathic awareness and helps one psychologically integrate body and soul. Schwartz-Salant supports the importance of a
Hrit may be chosen by Kundalini Shakti in some sincere aspirants with a very clear and developed anahata chakra as Kundalini Shakti chooses her route to bindu at the top of the head after she has reached makara point in upper ajna. Thus one may have developed anahata but this does not realize the purusha (Harrigan, 2000; personal communication, July 2, 2001).
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211 heart-centered focus when resolving conflicted states in the analytic container (SchwartzSalant, 1989, 1998, 1995a). He writes that “the birth of a heart-connection is really the key to field experiences. It creates a sense of safety where none had been known before” (Schwartz-Salant, 1995a, p. 25). The analyst’s mental muscle121 that has been achieved in the compassionate containment of analysis reveals that the analytic experience is, itself, a tradition of oral and numinous transmission. The analysand with the ego strength to stay with the process and withstand the agonizing uncertainty and enlivened passions of a double bind allows the curative power of the lapis philosophorum to emerge from chaos. This lapis, or subtle body is conferred by the unconscious during the progressive wounding and re-healing of the coniunctio that deepens and strengthens both analyst and analysand (Spiegelman, 1996a, p. 119; Schwartz-Salant, 1995b, 1998). The transformation of shared unconscious material over time is symbolized by the coniunctio, the conjunction, which if worked successfully, results in a unio mentalis. As stated above, this union of mind and body marks the formation of the individuated, tempered, subtle body or diamond body that is the goal of the opus. The individuated subtle body then works intrapsychically as a linking vehicle between the individual and the self, a concept Edinger (1972) describes as “the ego-self axis.” Before discussing the progression of the coniunctio, I add some observations of subtle body that confirm the
This is a concept often discussed by Allen Bishop, PhD in his lectures on psychoanalytic psychotherapy at Pacifica Graduate Institute.
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212 reality of soul as a linking vehicle through my own experience of imaginal perception.122 My experience corresponds with similar descriptions by Schwartz-Salant. Imaginal Perception of Subtle Body Following Schwartz-Salant’s (1995b) lead that imaginatio is a key to the alchemical opus, I have made similar observations to his (1995a) that the somatic unconscious is often split vertically or horizontally. Shortly after my spiritual awakening I was taught to imaginally “see” in my mind’s eye areas where the soul123 is integrated with the body, yielding psychological self-awareness. Conversely, areas of the body where soul-consciousness (a loving, alert, seeing consciousness) cannot penetrate are those where there are split-off complexes or negative emotions. Schwartz-Salant refers to these imaginally perceived split-off complexes observed in the somatic unconscious when he says that every complex “has a body” (Schwartz-Salant, 1989, p. 135). When viewing the interactive field as an analytic object, Schwartz-Salant perceives the same splits that I learned to envision in a person’s individual subtle energy field. The meaning he derives from the splits he sees corresponds with and further informs my own interpretations: The ‘front-back’ split . . . often tends to hide the psychotic process. In the same fashion, the analyst can become sensitized to the existence of the other major splits that generally exist: the vertical splits that characterize dissociation and the horizontal splits that characterize repression, notably mind-body splitting…. An analyst who does not focus upon the interactive field can still discover some of these splits through, for example, projective identification; but this mode of discovery will be unlikely to gather up all of the dimensions of splitting within the analysand. However, the field, experienced as the analytic object, is in a way the Imaginal perception is a mode of consciousness that combines visual and somatic sensing. The designation of soul that I imagine here is the subtle body composed of spirit and psyche that learns during a lifetime but is, hypothetically, reincarnated.
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213 Fourth that contains these three major dimensions of splitting. Unless the split opposites are combined along these various ‘fault lines,’ no fundamental change in internal structure can occur. (Schwartz-Salant, 1998, p. 87) I was also taught to correlate ensouled areas of the body with the major chakras and find that this observation yields such insights as whether a person has achieved a stable ability for empathy. In such an instance, soul-awareness has penetrated from above the head (from spirit) down to and including anahata, the heart chakra. This observation corresponds to some degree with Spiegelman’s correlation between the somatic unconscious and the lower chakras, and between the psychic unconscious and the upper chakras, with the heart mediating their connection (Spiegelman, 1996a, p. 167). The imaginal perceptions described above are supported with instrumental measurements of the human aura by researchers, a subject discussed in the final chapter (see Hunt, 1996, and Korotkov, 1999, as two examples). I hypothesize that the integration of infantile, presymbolic states of awareness and their splits involves the integration of psychic and somatic awareness downward through the body. When one encounters muladhara, the root chakra, in this descent, one experiences regression toward maternal fused states. With sufficient ego strength, outside guidance, and nonattachment, as is found in alert meditation practice, this regression can clear the way for transcendent, mystical, unitary states. This hypothesis finds support in the experience of individuated people who have processed the strongly affectively toned conflicts of early life and now find that they develop a belly laugh. The therapeutic methods pioneered in the West by Wilhelm Reich focuses on just such psychic/somatic processes. J. Marvin Spiegelman has experienced and written about an extensive course of Reichian therapy conducted by the noted occultist, Israel Regardie,
214 in which Spiegelman describes guided breath work combined with body postures and deep tissue massage. He experienced, for example, a “clonism,” or somatic release of “body armor,” with “a heaving at the diaphragm, a wave-like motion of the stomach, an experience which can be best described as a weeping of the belly without tears” (Spiegelman, 1992, p. 27). Spiegelman states that Reichian therapy has parallels with Kundalini yoga and Kabbalah (p. 23). In particular, he notes Reich’s independent discovery of body armor segmentation: “horizontal bands of tension which cross the body…. which can be seen as segments: ocular, oral, neck, chest, diaphragm, abdomen, pelvis. Later researchers, such as Alexander Lowen, have added the knees and the feet (‘grounding’)” (p. 13). These segments may well correspond to chakras and the Kabalistic Sephirot (see below). Schwartz-Salant describes the sense of integrated embodiment experienced through the descent of soul awareness in the individuated person. He notes that: To be embodied is not an easy or obvious act. The mind-body splitting of someone we may be with, or that person’s dissociated areas, tends to drive us out of our own embodied state.124 By being embodied, I mean a particular state of mind in which a person experiences his or her body in a particular way. First one becomes conscious of one’s body in the sense of becoming aware of its size. Along with this, one has a particular experience of living in it, which is to say, one feels confined in the space of the body. When this is accomplished, a state that requires that the breath flow freely and is felt as a wave moving up and down the body, one begins to feel that one inhabits the body. In this state the body is a container and one feels one’s age. This condition of being embodied is an experience of a medium that exists between what one thinks of as a material body and the mind. This medium is what the alchemists called Mercurius, what others have known by such names as the astral body, the subtle body, and the Kaballistic [sic] Yesod (Jung, 1955, par. 635), and what Jung called the somatic unconscious (1988, pp. 441ff). To be embodied is to experience this level which is both
If one’s subtle energies are attuned with those of another person, one may experience field entrainment so that each person’s fields affect the other’s.
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215 physical and mental. This is an example of the medium once known as the ether. (Schwartz-Salant, 1995a, pp. 25-26) I resonate with Schwartz-Salant’s description of this embodied state that is, for many of us who experience it, transitory. As the felt intensity of my field increases or when a complex moves toward resolution, I experience the type of clonisms that Spiegelman describes above, sometimes accompanied by activations of affect and related memories. The constellation of one’s complexes often occurs in the interactive field of depth therapy and in important relationships. Jung writes that experiences of relatedness are essential to the individuation process. He likens such experiences of connection in his alchemical writing to the coniunctio of the alchemists. The progressive consolidation of the capacity to relate leads to individuation. In this regard, he writes that “relationship to the self is at once relationship to our fellow man, and no one can be related to the latter until he is related to himself” (Jung, 1946/1966, p. 234). Progression of the Coniunctio In his final major work, Jung wrote a remarkable commentary about the coniunctio in the writings of the alchemist, Gerhard Dorn (Jung, 1955-1956/1963). This account shows the progression of alchemical transformation in three stages of the coniunctio. I briefly summarize this progression before presenting it in greater detail and exploring the implications of Jung’s interpretation of this alchemical phenomenon. Jung’s account of these stages shows: 1. A first, preliminary stage where mind is conceptually separated from the body, which helps to differentiate aspects of consciousness; 2. A second stage of reanimating the body with soul through repeated alchemical procedures that concludes with creation of the philosopher’s stone, also known as the
216 subtle body, to mediate between the incarnated person and the self. The state of consciousness thus achieved is the unio mentalis; 3. A third stage, which Jung considers theoretically impossible, of achieving identity between the individual and the Absolute.125 This conscious identification with the Absolute is also known as the unus mundus. Jung prefaces his commentary about Dorn’s three stages of the coniunctio by noting that “Gerhard Dorn had recognized the psychological aspect of the chymical marriage and clearly understood it as what we today would call the individuation process” (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 469). In the first stage of the coniunctio as envisioned by Dorn, Jung writes: In order to bring about their subsequent reunion, the mind (mens) must be separated from the body—which is equivalent to “voluntary death”lxii—for only separated things can unite. By this separation (distractio) Dorn obviously meant a discrimination and dissolution of the “composite,” the composite state being one in which the affectivity of the body has a disturbing influence on the mind . . . . This leads at first to a dissociation of the personality and a violation of the merely natural man. (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 471) Jung then extends the parallel between Dorn’s medieval observations and his own: Modern psychology makes use of the same procedure when it objectifies the affects and instincts and confronts consciousness with them. But the separation of the spiritual and the vital spheres, and the subordination of the latter to the rational standpoint, is not satisfactory inasmuch as reason alone cannot do complete or even adequate justice to the irrational facts of the unconscious. In the long run it does not pay to cripple life by insisting on the primacy of the spirit, for which reason the pious man cannot prevent himself from sinning again and again and the rationalist must constantly trip up over his own irrationalities . . . . Accordingly, the chronic duel between body and spirit seems a better though by no means ideal solution. The advantage, however, is that both sides remain conscious. (pp. 471-472)
The closest equivalent of “Absolute” here are Gebser’s “Origin,” Washburn’s “Divine Ground,” and Brahman (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985; Washburn, 1995; Torwesten, 1985/1991).
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217 In this first stage, Jung writes that one has gained the advantage of governing the soul’s motions by the spirit of truth. But since the soul made the body to live and was the principle of all realization, the philosophers could not but see that after the separation the body and its world were dead.ccxvii (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 521) However, he adds that this initial separation of spirit from instinct poses a problem that cannot be addressed by simply reuniting the two. To do so would constellate the activity of a Mercurial, instinctive nature and bring about the loss of the governing spirit of truth. According to Jung: This raised the question of the way in which the coniunctio [sic]126 could be effected. Dorn answered this by proposing, instead of an overcoming of the body, the typical alchemical process of the separatio, solutio, incineratio, sublimatio, etc. [sic] of the red or white wine, the purpose of this procedure being to produce a physical equivalent of the substantia coelestis, recognized by the spirit as the truth and as the image of God innate in man. (p. 525) Jung interprets “the red and white wine” here to symbolize the rubedo and albedo phenomena of the alchemical opus. In other words, the reanimation of the body with the blood of passionate life instinct (rubedo) is alternated with the sublimation of instinctive passions. In other words, Dorn suggests an interplay within the alchemical vessel between a dry and separated observing mind and one’s passions, with neither given the dominant role. Jung translates this process into the experience and terminology of analytical psychology as follows: Take the unconscious in one of its handiest forms, say a spontaneous fantasy, a dream, an irrational mood, an affect, or something of the kind, and operate with it. Give it your special attention, concentrate on it, and observe its alterations objectively. Spare no effort to devote yourself to this task, follow the subsequent transformations of the spontaneous fantasy attentively and carefully. Above all, don’t let anything from outside, that does not belong, get into it, for the fantasyimage has “everything it needs.”ccxxii In this way one is certain of not interfering The editors of the quoted text are inconsistent in italicizing the term, coniunctio.
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218 by conscious caprice and of giving the unconscious a free hand. In short, the alchemical operation seems to us the equivalent of the psychological process of active imagination. (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 526) This process finds its parallel in psychoanalysis, where, within the analytic container, analyst and analysand experience uncensored instinctive pressures that are not acted out. Instead, instinct is subject to interpretation, which helps both parties construct a narrative. That narrative reconciles and intrapsychically contains ego and instinct, which now interact in a living relationship. This relationship is the unio mentalis of alchemy. Therapists of all schools often find that patients are ashamed of or devalue the symptoms that bring them to treatment. Jung credits the alchemists with affirming that such symptoms contain in hidden form the numinous material necessary to go far beyond curing symptoms. He writes that these symptoms are like a contemptible fantasy which, like the stone that the builders rejected, is “flung into the street” and is so “cheap” that people do not even look at it. He will observe it from day to day and note its alteration until his eyes are opened or, as the alchemists say, until the fish’s eyes, or the sparks, shine in the dark solution .... The light that gradually dawns on him consists of this understanding that his fantasy is a real psychic process which is happening to him personally…. This recognition is absolutely necessary and marks an important advance. (Jung, 19551956/1963, pp. 528-529) Jung adds that upon recognizing that fantasy is not a mere fiction but has a reality that is relevant to oneself, a patient becomes, in effect, the alchemist’s apprentice. Now the process of individuation begins—one that eventually confers independence from the analyst (p. 529). The individuation process reaches its culmination in the formation of the philosopher’s stone, the unio mentalis that integrates soul and body. Jung (19551956/1963) writes that this is the goal of alchemy in general, but it is only the second
219 stage of the coniunctio described by Dorn (p. 532). Jung now adds that upon achieving individuation, one has not achieved identity between the ego and the self, a feat that he considers impossible. He also concedes that individuation is a process, not an achievement that can ever reach totality. In a concluding chapter that completes his life’s work, Jung affirms the numinous relationship between the individual and the Absolute and even states this reality in the language of Indian philosophy. Here is how his discussion proceeds. The third stage of the coniunctio described by Gerhard Dorn is the union of the whole man with the unus mundus. By this he [Dorn] meant, as we have seen, the potential world of the first day of creation, when nothing was yet “in actu,” i.e., divided into two and many, but was still one.ccix The creation of unity by a magical procedure meant the possibility of effecting a union with the world—not the world of multiplicity as we see it but with a potential world, the eternal Ground of all empirical being, just as the self is the ground and origin of the individual personality past, present, and future. On the basis of a self known by meditation and produced by alchemical means, Dorn “hoped and expected” to be united with the unus mundus. (1955-1956/1963, p. 534) As I show in the next chapter, where Kundalini yoga speaks in its own voice, the idea of an eternal Ground that precedes the manifest multiplicity of worldly existence is completely congruent with Indian philosophy. Jung makes that connection himself when he writes: The thought Dorn expresses by the third degree of conjunction is universal: it is the relation or identity of the personal with the suprapersonal atman, and of the individual tao with the universal tao. To the Westerner this view appears not at all realistic and all too mystic; above all he cannot see why a self should become a reality when it enters into relationship with the world of the first day of creation . . . . For thirty years I have studied these psychic processes under all possible conditions and have assured myself that the alchemists as well as the great philosophies of the East are referring to just such experiences, and that it is chiefly our ignorance of the psyche if these experiences appear “mystic.” (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 535)
220 The problem posed by trying to reconcile Western scientific thinking with mystical experience does not invalidate either worldview. Rather, Jung sees this as a paradox of existence. He writes that Dorn’s conception of this mystical union “agrees with psychological experience. For us the representation of the idea of the self in actual and visible form is a mere rite d’entrée [initiatory rite]…” (p. 533). Jung believes that the creation of the lapis of the individuated self, an individual instance of the self incarnate, confers a sense of inner security but does not eliminate setbacks that disturb one’s balance.127 In this vein, he writes: Anyone who submits his sense of inner security to analogous psychic tests will have similar experiences. More than once everything he has built will fall to pieces under the impact of reality, and he must not let this discourage him from examining, again and again, where it is that his attitude is still defective, and what are the blind spots in his psychic field of vision. Just as a lapis Philosophorum, with its miraculous powers, was never produced, so psychic wholeness will never be attained empirically, as consciousness is too narrow and too one-sided to comprehend the full inventory of the psyche. Always we shall have to begin again from the beginning. (1955-1956/1963, pp. 533-534) And yet, Jung affirms the empirical reality and profound effects of mystical experience while placing it outside the domain of rational conceptualization. Not unnaturally, we are at a loss to see how a psychic experience of this kind—for such it evidently was—can be formulated as a rational concept. Undoubtedly it was meant as the essence of perfection and universality, and, as such, it characterized an experience of similar proportions. We could compare this only with the ineffable mystery of the unio mystica, or tao, or the content of samadhi, or the experience of satori in Zen, which would bring us to the realm of the ineffable and of extreme subjectivity where all the criteria of reason fail. Remarkably enough this experience is an empirical one in so far as there are unanimous testimonies from the East and West alike, both from the present and from the distant past, which confirm its unsurpassable subjective significance. This is a point of contention between Jung’s psychology and Eastern teachings that a person can become fully enlightened. It is addressed in the next chapter. Jesus of Nazareth, the archetypal adept of the West, supports Jung’s view that even a fully enlightened person can lose his or her balance when Jesus cries out to God during his crucifixion, asking why he has been forsaken (Matt. 27:33).
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221 Our knowledge of physical nature gives us no point d’appui that would enable us to put the experience on any generally valid basis. It is and remains a secret of the world of psychic experience and can be understood only as a numinous event, whose actuality, nevertheless, cannot be doubted any more than the fact that light of a certain wave-length is perceived as “red”—a fact which remains incomprehensible only to a man suffering from red-green blindness. (Jung, 19551956/1963, pp. 539-540) Next, Jung comments on the medieval Western culture of the alchemists by seeing their consciousness as a dissociated one. However, he does not in these late passages invalidate mystical experience or the reality of the unus mundus. What, then, do the statements of the alchemists concerning their arcanum mean, looked at psychologically? In order to answer this question we must remember the working hypothesis we have used for the interpretation of dreams: the images in dreams and spontaneous fantasies are symbols, that is, the best possible formulation for still unknown or unconscious facts, which generally compensate the content of consciousness or the conscious attitude. If we apply this basic rule to the alchemical arcanum, we come to the conclusion that its most conspicuous quality, namely, its unity and uniqueness. . . presupposes a dissociated consciousness. For no one who is one himself needs oneness as a medicine—nor, we might add, does anyone who is unconscious of his dissociation, for a conscious situation of distress is needed in order to activate the archetype of unity. From this we may conclude that the more philosophically minded alchemists were people who did not feel satisfied with the then prevailing view of the world, that is, with the Christian faith, although they were convinced of its truth. (p. 540) This formulation is a tragic one, because it portrays the alchemists striving for a goal they could not reach. Yet, Jung’s own earlier writing about Meister Eckhart documented the testimony of a Western adept who had achieved the goal affirmed by so many sages of the East. In that early text, which is discussed in Chapter 5, Jung appears to contradict his own reasoning about the near equivalence of medieval and scientific symbols and labels Eckhart’s experience a regression (Jung, 1920/1971). In Jung’s passage inserted immediately above he does not differentiate regression from transcendence, although he now validates the mystical experience, itself.
222 Consider Eckhart for a moment. He no longer strives for wholeness as a dissociated consciousness. The evidence is found in Eckhart’s own words: “For truly it is I who bring all creatures out of their own into my mind and make them one in me” (Eckhart Works, cited in Jung, 1920/1971, p. 254). In the conclusion of Mysterium Coniunctionis, Jung does not differentiate primitive participation mystique from transcendence, but states that such differentiation is inconsequential: In view of the inexhaustibility of the archetype the rational understanding derived from it means relatively little, and it would be an unjustifiable overestimation of reason to assume that, as a result of understanding, the illumination in the final state is a higher one than in the initial state of the experience . . . . The experience itself is the important thing, not its intellectual representation or clarification, which proves meaningful and helpful only when the road to original experience is blocked…. [The alchemist’s] inadequate understanding did not detract from the totality of his archetypal experience any more than our wider and more differentiated understanding adds anything to it. (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 545) I disagree with Jung’s contention that illumination is not a higher state, as he writes in perspectival terminology, than is participation mystique. An illuminated person who experiences unitary consciousness is no longer compelled by but can access the differentiated ego. That ego now serves as a vehicle for the enlightened consciousness to manifest itself in a worldly reality that is itself no longer reified. Jung’s formulation of “ego” implies such identification, however.128 The experience of the self is always a defeat for the ego. The extraordinary difficulty in this experience is that the self can be distinguished only conceptually from what has always been referred to as “God,” but not practically. Both concepts apparently rest on an identical numinous factor which is a condition of reality. The ego enters into the picture only so far as it can offer resistance, defend itself, and in the event of defeat still affirm its existence. The prototype of this
Jung’s version of the evolved ego is the self in that term’s usage to designate the core, guiding archetype of the individual person.
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223 situation is Job’s encounter with Yahweh. This hint is intended only to give some indication of the nature of the problems involved (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 546). The hint referred to above is that “the alchemical compensation corresponds to the integration of the unconscious with consciousness, whereby both are altered” (p. 546). Also, it suggests a divine consciousness that itself advances through a relationship with conscious inhabitants of manifest reality, just as, in Jung’s terms, Job’s encounter with Jahweh helped the Western God-image add compassion to its repertoire129 (Jung, 1954/1969b). Jung does affirm mystical experience despite its arational nature: So if Dorn sees the third and highest degree of conjunction in a union or relationship of the adept, who has produced the caelum,130 with the unus mundus, this would consist, psychologically, in a synthesis of the conscious with the unconscious. The result of this conjunction or equation is theoretically inconceivable, since a known quantity is combined with an unknown one; but in practice as many far-reaching changes of consciousness result from it as atomic physics has produced in classical physics. (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 539) The theoretical trap confronted by Jung in this passage is the rational synthesis between opposites, thesis and antithesis, which results in a third thing that becomes a new thesis. According to Gebser, synthesis is an iterative process that splits reality perceptions into progressively tiny pieces and never reaches a conclusion. Gebser overcomes this logical
That interpretation, meant as a psychological commentary rather than a metaphysical statement, caused great controversy in theological circles (Jung, 1961/1989). The caelum of the alchemists was the pure, divine result of the distillation process achieved during the opus. (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 486) It was the symbolic substance equivalent to “that ‘truth,’ the celestial balsam or life principle, which is identical with the God-image. Psychologically, it was a representation of the individuation process, … or what we today call active imagination” (p. 494).
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224 trap with his formulation of arational synairesis, an aperspectival equivalent to synthesis that acknowledges many positions, not just two (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985, p. 310). Although Jung does not theoretically conceive of formulating the synthesis of the conscious and the unconscious, Indian philosophy provides its own theoretical alternative that is beyond rational synthesis. The Indian philosophical construct is the absorption of what analytical psychology calls the personal self by the “unconscious,” which Jung defined as equivalent to the Eastern superconsciousness and instinctive unconscious combined (Jung, 1939/1959, pp. 282-283). Joan Harrigan says that the differences in labeling here can be confusing. She notes that in Indian philosophy, limited personal consciousness and instincts are the evolutes of prakriti (the divine matrix) and are made conscious by the all-pervading self. In this sense, the unconscious gets absorbed by the conscious. In other words, the unconscious manifests out of the divine matrix and involves itself out in the world. Then it evolves and gets absorbed back into the self (Harrigan, personal communication, July 2, 2001). These theoretical distinctions aside, the quote of Jung above shows that late in life he affirmed the existence and effects of the experience of samadhi or satori, which is claimed by mystic adepts, worldwide. His formulation of states of consciousness in psychological terms is a valuable contribution that has the advantage of avoiding conflicting metaphysical dogma put forth by competing religious institutions. In this regard Jung writes: It . . . seems to me, on the most conservative estimate, to be wiser not to drag the supreme metaphysical factor into our calculations, at all events not at once, but, more modestly, to make an unknown psychic or perhaps psychoidccxxxviii factor in the human realm responsible for inspirations and suchlike happenings. This would make better allowance not only for the abysmal mixture of truth and error in the great majority of inspirations but also for the numerous contradictions in Holy
225 Writ. The psychoid aura that surrounds consciousness furnishes us with better and less controversial possibilities of explanation and moreover can be investigated empirically. (1955-1956/1963, pp. 550-551) He adds that “there is no need to fear that the inner experience will thereby be deprived of its reality and vitality. No experience is prevented from happening by a somewhat more cautious and modest attitude—on the contrary” (pp. 552-553). Then he concludes this majestic text with the idea that no human formulation can “vie with the dignity that God . . . has accorded” to humanity through the Christian dogma “that God became very man” (p. 553). This late writing shows that in old age, Jung dethrones his rationalistic formulation of 1930-1933 from its previous status as the only acceptable description of psychic reality. He simultaneously acknowledges the empirical existence of phenomena that cannot be encompassed by any theory. Subtle Body in World Religions To demonstrate the universality and similarity of subtle body descriptions by adepts, I conclude this chapter with a brief introduction to subtle body teachings of Islamic mysticism and then discuss the Kabalistic symbolism shared by esoteric131 Islam, Judaism, and Christianity. The symbolism of Kabbalah corresponds with the Kundalini yoga chakra system and its subtle sheaths, and thus creates an excellent transition to the Kundalini yoga chapter. The Tantric Buddhism of Tibet is taken up in that chapter, which also includes parallels between the subtle body of yoga and Chinese acupuncture points and meridians.
The term esoteric, derives from the Greek esoterikos, which means “within.” Esoteric has also gained the meaning of something “designed for or understood by the specially initiated alone” (Gove, et al., 2000).
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226 Shi’ite Islamic mysticism defines three worlds of experience from the mundane to the divine, with a corresponding array of successively subtle bodies for navigating each realm. The brief presentation of medieval Islamic mysticism that follows is limited by the scope of this study and thus should not be considered the result of a comprehensive review. Henry Corbin discusses three worlds of experience in the teaching of Shi’ite philosopher Qadi Sa’id Qummi, who describes three categories of universe. First, there is the phenomenal world (‘alam alshahadah), a realm where things are perceptible to the senses (‘alam al-mulk). Then there is the suprasensible world (ghayb), the world of the Soul or AngelSouls, commonly designated malkut: the “place” of the mundus imaginalis, whose organ of perception is cognitive imagination. And there is the intelligible world of the pure Intelligences or Angel-Intelligences, commonly designated jabarut, whose organ of perception is the intuitive intellect. (Corbin, 1986, p. 192) Corbin adds that Qadi Sa’id Qummi recognizes three related categories of physical, subtle, and “absolutely subtle” time, as well as different categories of motion (p. 192). The more subtle categories govern those that are less subtle, and subtle phenomena are considered as real as gross, material ones (p. 193). The relation of spiritual realities with each other, in contrast to mundane physical phenomena, is aperspectival, in that “their centre is both that which is surrounded and that which surrounds, that which is contained and that which contains, whereas in the case of material forms, the centre is purely and simply that which is surrounded” (pp. 214-215). Every Muslim, or practitioner of the Islamic religion, is expected to take part in a pilgrimage to the Temple of the Ka-bah at least once in a lifetime. That great Temple is seen as “the centre of the terrestrial world, containing, homologically, all of creation” (p. 208).
227 For the mystical pilgrim, the pilgrimage and the rites of pilgrimage performed at the Temple of the Ka’bah have a direct configurative action on the formation of his body of light, on his body’s malakut—that is to say, on the attainment of his total form, in the sense that his body of light becomes simultaneously centre and periphery of his essential, total being. (Corbin, 1986, p. 208) The pilgrim enacts five major ceremonial acts that serve the following spiritual functions: (a) lighting of ardent desire/testing/determination, (b) setting upon the path of uprooting oneself from the Earth of exile (egotism/self-sufficiency) and starting one’s return, (c) return and achievement of a sevenfold epiphany of the Divine Alter Ego (Self), realizing one’s identity with that Self, (d) warding off the inflation of identifying the ego with God and instead traveling with God as companion, (e) Iblis, the Devil, departs and the Angel and Adam circumambulate the Temple of the Ka’bah seven times. Now the realized man puts on the seven veils of embodiment and returns to the world (pp. 246254). Thus “the reality of the heart’s pilgrimage is realized invisibly, in the malakut. Its effects are realized in the formation of the jism mithali or imaginal body, and all these “bodies of light” together make up the invisible brotherhood” (p. 254). This pilgrimage of a lifetime encompasses a path of return to the divine followed by conscious embodiment of the realized individual. In another text, Corbin (1960/1977) reviews the writing of the medieval Islamic alchemist, Shaikh Ahmad Ahsa’i, who describes four levels of embodiment and four manifest worlds of existence preceded by a transcendent, unmanifest world of creative Imperative. The subtle bodies envisioned by Shaikh Ahmad Ahsa’i are described by Corbin as follows, in a table that lists alchemical homologues for each body. Jasad A: The elemental, material body, the body of perishable flesh, composed of the sublunar Elements
228 Jasad B: Incorruptible Spiritual body, caro spiritualis, composed of the Elements of Hurqalya. It survives invisibly post-mortem “in the tomb,” that is, in Hurqalya. It will be reunited with the Spirit at the time of the Great Resurrection Jism A: The astral body, composed of the celestial matter of the Heavens of Hurqalya; put on by the Spirit at the time of its descent into this world; accompanies it at the time of the exitus, enters the terrestrial Paradise (or the infernum) with it; disappears at the time of the Great Resurrection and the final union of jasad B and jism B in the corpus resurrectionis Jism B: The essential, original body, the archetypal body, imperishable and inseparable from the Spirit (okhema symphyes), the supracelestial body made of six “treasures”; joined with jasad B, forms the wholeness of the resurrection body (“body of diamond”) in the Aeon to come. (Corbin, 1960/1977, pp. 202-203) Hurqalya in these texts is the “Earth of Resurrection.” The four realms of existence found in the teachings of Shaikh Abu’l-Qasim Khan Ibrahimi are summarized by Corbin: 1) The first of the universes is the world of the creative Imperative, which is the sempiternal world and the world of pure essences. 2) Then there is the world of the Intelligence, which is the Abode of “consubstantial matters” granted respectively to the being of every being. 3) Next the world of the Spirit, which is the intermediary, the barzakh, between the world of the Intelligence and the world of the Soul. 4) This same world of the Soul, which is the world of the Forms of beings. 5) And finally, after the world of the Soul, our world, which is the temporal, sensory, and visible world. The last is the world in which we are at present, you and I, and it is the plane on which all the universes finally converge. (p. 248) The last element of Corbin’s extraordinary description states in no uncertain terms that divinity, even the Absolute prior to manifestation, is immanent in the here and now, the dust of this earth. I now move from this brief presentation of subtle body concepts in Islamic mysticism to a summary of some subtle body concepts found in the Kabbalah. According to Z'Ev Ben Shimon Halevi (1979), the practice of Kabbalah is found in many countries, in secret schools whose members receive initiation at middle age and then learn from oral transmission and texts. He writes that Kabbalah found its inception in the first chapter of the biblical Book of Genesis, where our world is called into being by the Divine Word. Thus Kabbalah assigns a spiritual significance to the utterance of
229 each Hebrew letter as an act of creation. This tradition is mirrored by the Kundalini yoga practice of according fundamental spiritual significance to the sounding of each Sanskrit syllable. I also take this opportunity to note that Kabalistic tradition accords great significance to numbers. However, a discussion of the numerology of Kabbalah is beyond the scope of this study. According to Kabbalah, Divine Creation unfolds in four steps: (a) being willed or called forth, (b) creating, (c) forming, and (d) making. Thus four worlds are manifested, all but one emerging from a more transcendent reality: (a) Azilut, is the World of Emanation, (b) Beriah, the World of Creation, (c) Yezirah, the World of Formation, and (d) Asiyyah the World of Action (Halevi, 1979, pp. 9-11). The inhabitants of the more transcendent worlds challenge humanity. For example, Satan, the archetypal adversary, is a fallen angel, and a Son of God (p. 12). In Kabalistic tradition, life begins with a descent of the divine spark from the highest world to the lowest and ends with the return of that spark to its home. Adam Kadmon, the archetypal human form, emanates from Azilut, and is typically depicted from behind just as Moses saw the divine image (p. 13), for no one may look upon the face of God and live (Ex. 33:20, cited in Halevi, 1979, p. 13).
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Figure 12. Adam Kadmon, the divine form of humanity that is typically shown from behind because according to Exodus 33:20, no one can look at the face of the divine and live (p. 12). The circles are divine creative utterances, or Sephirot (p. 5), fundamental principles of life (Halevi, 1979, p. 68). Note. From Kabbalah: Tradition of Hidden Knowledge (p. 68) by Z. B. S. Halevi, 1979, New York: Thames & Hudson. Copyright 1979 by Warren Kenton. Reprinted with permission. The Kabalistic tradition has several graphic representations that place the Sephirot in the Tree of Life. These representations show their relationship to the four worlds and their roles in the divine manifestation and return. The Sephirot and their locations vis-à-
231 vis the human form have many correspondences with the subtle body and chakra system of Kundalini yoga (see below). According to Halevi: The relationships between the Sefirot are governed by three unmanifest Divine principles, the “Hidden Splendours” (Zahzahot) of Primordial Will, Mercy and Rigour (or Justice). Will holds the balance, while Mercy expands, and Rigour constrains, the flow of Emanation, and so they organize the ten Divine Attributes into a specific archetypal pattern. The pattern thus called forth is the model on which everything that is to come into manifestation is based. It has been named the Image of God, but it is more generally known as the Tree of Life [the Yesod]. Each Sefirah in turn manifests under the influence of one of the Zahzahot in particular, and for this reason the flow which manifests the ten Sefirot can be visualized as zigzagging in a “Lightning Flash” from a central position (Balance) to the right (Expansion) and across to the left (Constraint). Thus the Zahzahot give rise to the three vertical alignments in the Tree of Life diagram, known as the Pillars: that of Equilibrium (Grace, Will), in the centre, that of Mercy (active Force, Expansion) on the right, and that of Severity (passive Form, Constraint) on the left. (Halevi, 1979, pp. 5-6)
Figure 13. The Lightning Flash. Each circle is a Sephira, or divine utterance. The zigzag direction of the lightning flash shows the order of descent of these divine
232 utterances into manifestation. The arrangement of Sephirot is according to the plan of the Tree of Life, with a left, right, and center pillar. Each Sephirah is named in a Hebrew transliteration and in English translation (Halevi, 1979, p. 7). Note. From Kabbalah: Tradition of Hidden Knowledge (p. 7) by Z. B. S. Halevi, 1979, New York: Thames & Hudson. Copyright 1979 by Warren Kenton. Reprinted with permission. A brief examination of the Sephirot immediately suggests parallels to the Kundalini yoga system. Tiferet (beauty), for example, is said by Halevi to represent the Heart of Hearts. With the emotional Sefirot of Hesed and Gevurah it forms the triad of the Divine soul; with the higher Sefirot of Hokhmah and Binah it forms the great triad of the Divine spirit, in the midst of which hovers the Ruah ha Kodesh. In the human psyche Tiferet is the Self, the core of the individual, which lies behind the everyday ego: the ‘Watcher’ which focuses the largely unconscious influences of the higher centres of Mercy and Justice (Hesed and Gevurah), Wisdom and Understanding (Hokhmah and Binah). (Halevi, 1979, p. 7) Compare Halevi’s characterization of Tiferet with Anahata, the heart chakra. Tiferet resides in the middle pillar, which is, perhaps, equivalent to the central nadi of sushumna, a subtle form that occupies the physical space of the spinal channel. The equilibrium of the heart’s compassion is achieved by establishing a balance between Gevurah (judgment) and Hesed (mercy). In a 1996 talk at Pacifica Graduate Institute, Spiegelman (1996b) noted that overly favoring the Sephirot of the left pillar (Severity) or the right pillar (Mercy) is considered evil. For example, seeking justice without mercy is the justification behind many wars, whereas a passive attitude of uncompromising mercy may result in failing to defend oneself against a ruthless enemy. Further examination of the Yesod, or Tree of Life, suggests parallels in the middle pillar between Keter, the Sephirah of the crown, and bindu, the point of power at the top
233 of sahasrara, the crown padma. Similarly, Daat, knowledge, seems comparable to ajna, the brow chakra. Yesod (Foundation), may correspond with muladhara. The Sephirot occupying the left and right pillars and balancing each other may correspond with the yoga chakras that would be centrally located in each position. Here, Binah (Understanding) balances Hokhmah (Wisdom), with both characterizing thinking or the wisdom of silence in upper ajna. Gevurah (Judgment) balances Hesed (Mercy) and may correlate with manipura, whose central theme is power (Harrigan, 2000, p. 103). Hod (Reverberation) balances Nezah (Eternity), suggesting actively vibrating versus quiescent desirousness at svadhisthana, the genital chakra (p. 99). If one considers the central pillar of Equilibrium, its resident Sephirot, and the corresponding Kundalini energy centers, they all seem to symbolize achieved states of being. The Sephirot residing on the side pillars of Expansion versus Constraint suggest principles for balancing the corresponding chakras. The Sephira, Malkhut (Kingdom), apparently points toward finding one’s place as the ruler of this embodied life, just as one needs to be grounded with open energy channels that extend through one’s feet and into the earth. Chapter Summary Taken together, the interpretations of subtle body by the world’s metaphysical, alchemical, and spiritual traditions transmit timeless wisdom. These subtle body teachings suggest how one can harmonize and strengthen qualitative characteristics of body, mind, and spirit. In this chapter, I find the inception of the subtle body idea in the birth of the human imagination. I define many terms for subtle body in the context of various pre-scientific traditions.
234 Subtle body concepts emerged and changed with the inception of new consciousness structures. The development of the individual ego coalesced many souls into one. Subtle body was then differentiated into a soul as mediator between body and spirit. The subtle body concept maintained a collective identity when it described a congregation of worshippers or people in relationship. The transformations of subtle body find complex and useful descriptions in Jung’s interpretations of Western alchemy, which characterizes people as individuals and in relationship. His concepts of the psychic and somatic unconscious and the psychoid nature of the archetypes offer an expanded understanding of psychological growth, the psychoanalytic enterprise, and the integration of spiritual and worldly concerns. Subtle body is more than an abstract concept because its transformations can be perceived through the media of the human imagination and scientific instruments. One of Jung’s principal contributions to comprehending subtle body phenomena is his creation of language that can be empirically verified and is free of metaphysical claims. However, much wisdom remains to be gleaned from the subtle body traditions of the world’s major religions. The next chapter takes up Kundalini yoga, the most detailed traditional system I have found for describing and transforming subtle body. Of greater significance is Kundalini’s status as a living tradition that produces adepts who demonstrate extraordinary capabilities, including the ability to ignite powerful transformation in others. Yet, the most advanced of these adepts and their ancient scriptures dismiss any indulgence in such abilities as an obstacle to transcendence.
235 Chapter 7 Kundalini Yoga Introduction Kundalini yoga is an ancient, living tradition whose origins disappear into the mists of time (Bhattacharyya, 1999). Its central concern is nothing less than complete liberation from the sufferings of this life through realization of one’s divine nature. Yoga’s promise of ultimate self-realization has had a profound and controversial impact on the West since the arrival of India’s sacred texts offered a romantic alternative to Europe’s so-called Enlightenment, which placed ultimate value in a dry, disembodied rationalism. India’s timeless wisdom, its sanatana dharma, further challenged the authority of Christianity and the claim of some of its denominations to mediate between the individual born in original sin and a separate God—even though such mediation contradicts Jesus’ assertion that God’s essence is immanent in all of us (John 10:34). There is no single yoga tradition, but a variety of yogas to meet the varying temperaments and sophistication of different people. The many yoga traditions are inseparably embedded in a large and ancient body of written teachings. These teachings, some of which include alchemical principles, seem to arise from archetypal roots that are common to all. Evidence for this statement is found in the reports from people around the world of spontaneous yogic experiences without prior knowledge. For instance, people may be inundated with mystical light and heat, or may find themselves spontaneously moved by an inner force to assume yoga postures (Greenwell, 1990). Without prior knowledge, I have personally seen a vision of a rainbow white light and had a lucid dream where I journeyed out of the body. I have also seen in my mind’s eye the subtle
236 petals said to exist at the sahasrara lotus, even though I had never been told to expect such a vision. I later discovered that those petals are illustrated in the color in which I envisioned them in Layayoga: The Definitive Guide to the Chakras and Kundalini (Goswami, 1999, plate 25). Such visionary experiences132 and the cleansing, transformative love conferred by a Tantric master’s blessings have led me to want to study sanatana dharma. However, that study was long delayed by a need to find my own Western philosophical roots. I found those roots in psychology, especially the analytical psychology of C. G. Jung. I only came to Tantra and Jung after a start in the syncretic New Age movement, which offered peak experiences but is insufficiently connected with empiricism. analytical psychology is, itself, an oral tradition that is helping me integrate my Western thinking with mystical experience. It shares with Kundalini yoga an empirical approach to provide safety and containment for encounters with the numinosum. Jung saw the lack of such empiricism in the theosophical and spiritualist movements that form the basis of many New Age beliefs. He was also concerned that Westerners practicing yoga outside of its native culture and alienated from their own cultural roots would be playing with fire without a container. Since Jung’s time, many Westerners have ignored his warnings and become disciples of yoga’s living tradition. Some have fallen victim to gurus whose integrity slipped when encountering the unprecedented needs of Westerners. Many of these new disciples, in turn, were unfamiliar with the safeguards built into the Indian tradition,
Visionary experiences such as these suggest the possibility of a Kundalini rising, but they do not necessarily signify being especially advanced, spiritually (Harrigan, 2000).
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237 which offers guidelines for both the guru and the disciple to choose each other. Some gurus and their disciples exhibit siddhis (yogic powers), but are not fully realized. Not a few seek satisfaction of their worldly desires for sex, money, or power. In other instances, the teachings of Eastern scriptures may fail to take into account the individualism of Westerners or their lack of faith in another culture’s traditions. Jung’s warnings have much validity in the light of such situations. Thus, I begin this discussion of Kundalini yoga by describing the attitude needed to practice within a traditional lineage. Traditional Kundalini Yoga Practice Harrigan describes the preparatory development required for discipleship in a traditional Kundalini133 yoga lineage as follows: Traditionally, in spiritual disciplines, an individual was prepared for a Kundalini rising by years of careful spiritual guidance and practice. The unconscious mind was cleared, the ego clarified, and the physical and subtle bodies purified and strengthened. A sound philosophical and religious framework was developed, and an ethical code and spiritual lifestyle were practiced to build character and direct the force spiritually. This eliminated blocks, weaknesses, and imbalances in the mind, prana, and body that would impede or distort the flow of the Kundalini once it was released. This assured a truly spiritual experience rather than an occult, elemental, or psychic one. (Harrigan, 2000, p. 58) A medieval yoga text, Vedantasara, prescribes characteristics that help a candidate qualify for discipleship that is typical of the pre-Kantian, world-negating stance that gives Jung pause. Zimmer writes that according to that text: The “competent student” (adhikarin), when approaching the study of Vedanta, should feel an attitude not of criticism or curiosity, but of utter faith (sraddha) that in the formulae of Vedanta, as they are about to be communicated to him, he
Joan Harrigan defines Kundalini as “the spiritual power dwelling within every human being,” and describes this power as more subtle than the spiritual energy, prana, that courses through and about the human body (Harrigan, 2000).
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238 shall discover the truth.iii He must furthermore be filled with a yearning for freedom from the encumbrances of worldly life, an earnest longing for release from the bondage of his existence as an individual caught in the vortex of existence. (Zimmer, 1967, p. 51) How does one know one is practicing within a “sound philosophical and religious framework” of which Harrigan writes? Some in India may adhere to blind faith, like the orthodox and fundamentalist faithful in many religions. However, other yoga practitioners incorporate attitudes more compatible with Jung’s choice of remaining involved in worldly matters. Swami Vivekananda (1863-1902) achieved nirvikalpa samadhi (non-dual consciousness), yet he saw worldly life as an aspect of the divine and founded an order of monks who were dedicated to worldly service, karma yoga. Similarly, Sri Aurobindo (1872-1950) proclaimed a vision of divine fulfillment that would not escape this world but enlighten its inhabitants down to a cellular level, a descent of the supramental plane into manifestation (Torwesten, 1985/1991; Aurobindo, 1990). Harrigan writes as a member of a 500-year-old Kundalini yoga lineage to describe its empirical approach, which safeguards practitioners. She says that “to meet the criteria for being a valid source of knowledge, a direct personal experience must be consistent with scripture, logic, and empirical evidence gathered over time” (Harrigan, 2000, p. 26). Empirical evidence includes observations of others (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, May 7, 2001). Harrigan adds: Oral tradition commentaries are required to shed light on the scriptures, which are written in a terse, poetic style referred to as the twilight language. Only a student whose Kundalini (spiritual) process is sufficiently advanced and who has benefit of being tutored by a master in such a lineage can learn the real depth of meaning hidden in the verses. (p. 28)
239 The experience that is passed down through the oral tradition is assembled through case studies of the practitioners in the lineage. With these criteria, one builds an empirically based spirituality, or vidya. Harrigan translates the latter term as “science,” although she advises that vidya is empiricism in its broadest sense rather than one based solely on observations and measurements of material phenomena.134 The “spiritual science” of which she speaks “is the investigation of ways to describe and facilitate the phases and facets of spiritual development and to deal with their various phenomena and relevant obstacles by utilizing effective methods that are aimed at attaining the spiritual goal” (Harrigan, 2000, pp. 3-4). According to Harrigan, classical texts such as Sat-Cakra-Nirupana, which is explored during Jung’s Kundalini seminar, describe a composite of Kundalini phenomena that culminate in liberation. This composite is more than a single person typically experiences (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, January 16, 2001). It also does not describe all types of Kundalini risings. I infer from her description that it compresses the experience of many case studies into a single, mystical narrative. The case study approach of her lineage offers the following causes of Kundalini risings. We begin with the general conditions needed. According to Harrigan’s guru, Swami Chandrasekharanand Saraswati: The causes of a release and rising involve methods and circumstances that create strong mental focus and direct the vayus [bio-energy channels] in certain particular ways. When the conditions in the subtle body are such that the mind is Two of the traditional philosophical schools of India in particular are compatible with Western scientific traditions. These are the Nyaya and Vaisheshika schools, which use rules of debate, logic, and argument to examine segments of the material world (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, December 18, 2000). The existence of these schools counters Jung’s claim cited in Chapter 4 that India has no critical philosophy.
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240 one-pointedly concentrated and the vital energies are flowing with a specific direction, speed, and heat, a Kundalini release and rising can occur through one of several pathways and to a variety of levels. (S. Chandrasekharanand Saraswati, cited in Harrigan, 2000, pp. 59-60) This lineage, which is within Shankaracharya’s Vedic tradition,135 recognizes several ways that Kundalini may be induced to rise. These include: (a) spiritual practice, (b) life shock, (c) karma, and (d) grace. Spiritual practices may include devotional prayer, spiritual concentration, physical yoga practices, an intense spiritual life, sacred sexual control, and alchemical herbs. Life shock may include events of physical or emotional intensity, or parapsychological causes. Karma predisposes one to continue their rising from a previous lifetime. Grace may be bestowed through the blessings of a saint or the divine will (Harrigan, 2000, pp. 60-62). Whatever the cause of the rising, a person may experience relative ease, or may encounter difficulties or danger, especially if not properly prepared, expertly guided, or spiritually inclined (Harrigan, 2000, pp. 62-64). From purification to absorption. Traditional Kundalini yoga prescribes a variety of practices used for purification of the several levels of embodiment of the individual soul (jiva). Feuerstein summarizes the most widely-known of these purification regimens, the eight-limbed (asthtanga) yoga136 described in the Yoga-Sutra of Patanjali. The first three practices described in this list, especially, are adopted at the outset: 1. Yama—moral restraint consisting of nonharming, truthfulness, nonstealing, chastity, and greedlessness, which are said to be valid on all levels, at all times, and everywhere Saraswati is a goddess who presides “over speech, learning, and the fine arts.” She is also “associated with … muladhara-cakra, and with the central channel (*sushumna-nadi) in which the *Kundalini-shakti ascends” (Feuerstein, 2000, p. 261). Shankaracharya is the founder of Advaita Vedanta, and is discussed below. According to Goswami, this eight-limbed series of practices is called ashtangayoga (Goswami, 1999, p. 43).
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241 2. Niyama—self-restraint through purity, contentment, austerity, study, and devotion to the Lord 3. Asana—posture, which makes the practitioner immune against the onslaught from the pairs of opposites (dvandva), such as heat and cold or dry and moist 4. Pranayama—lit. “extension of the life energy” by means of breath control 5. Pratyahara—sensory inhibition 6. Dharana—concentration, or fixing one’s attention upon a selected object, be it a mantra or the graphic representation of a deity 7. Dhyana—meditation, which is a deepening of concentration marked by a progressive unification of consciousness 8. Samadhi—lit. “putting together,” or ecstasy, which consists in one’s complete merging with the object of meditation (Feuerstein, 1998a, pp. 124-125) This list is not all-inclusive and varies among different schools and texts. A common metaphor in Tantric texts for the purification process is found in the “5 M’s,” known as the panca-makara or pancatattva. Here, panca is five (Bhattacharyya, 1999, p. 124), makara is “letter m,” and tattva is literally, “thatness” or “a category of cosmic existence” (Feuerstein, 2000, pp. 176, 305). Bhattacharyya (1999, p. 425) lists the five M’s as follows: “madya (wine), mamsa (meat), matsya (fish), mudra (cereal, diagram, woman) and maithuna (sexual intercourse).” This list is a good example of the twilight language of Tantra. According to Bhattacharyya: D. N. Bose . . . suggests that the real significance of the five makaras has been deliberately perverted. According to him wine is the nectar-stream that issues from the highest cerebral region. Likewise fish symbolizes ‘suppression of vital airs’, meat a ‘vow of silence’, and sexual intercourse ‘meditation on the acts of creation and destruction’.cxxxix Likewise, Sir John Woodroffe [a.k.a. Arthur Avalon] offered a symbolic explanation of the word ‘drinking’ used in the Parananda-sutra . . . . The verse suggests that an individual may escape from rebirth by drinking again and again, by falling upon the ground and rising up again owing to the state of intoxication. Similar verses are offered in other Tantras.cxxxxi According to Woodroffe, the verse really refers to the movement of the kundalini, [sic] its ascent and descent being symbolised by the drunkard’s falling on the ground and getting up again. (Bhattacharyya, 1999, p. 141) Feuerstein discusses additional purification practices that may appear more than a little arcane to Western readers and include inhaling air or drinking water and expelling
242 these through the anus, cleaning the teeth, tongue, ears and frontal sinuses, and “swallowing a long strip of thin cloth and then pulling it out again (Feuerstein, 1998a, p. 170). Feuerstein (p. 172) adds that the hatha yoga master, B. K. S. Iyengar, says that pranayama (breath control) purifies the five elements, earth, water, fire, air, and ether, discussed in earlier chapters. Someone pursuing the yoga path of liberation typically seeks initiation137 and guidance by a guru (teacher). The initiation, itself, is said to empower138 the saying of mantras and other ritual practices, and may initiate or otherwise beneficially affect one’s Kundalini rising. The disciple, or chela, typically puts total trust in the Tantric guru, envisioning that guru as God.139 But this level of devotion is not entered into lightly. Feuerstein writes that the Tantras themselves recommend that one take as long as 12 years scrutinizing a prospective teacher before humbly requesting initiation to empower one’s practice and accelerate one’s spiritual progress (Feuerstein, 1998a, pp. 91-93, 95).
The types of initiation are not listed here. A description of the technical differences in types of initiation can be seen in Tantra: The Path of Ecstasy, by Georg Feuerstein, (1998). Feuerstein (1998) states that the saying of mantras lacks efficacy unless empowered by a guru’s initiation, and this is probably true. My personal experience is that reciting thousands of mantras prior to empowerment assisted calmness and concentration and may have helped me be more receptive to empowerment. Perhaps that recitation entrained my subtle body to the cultural archetype of the compassionate Buddha, Chenrazee. Repeating the mantra in question is prescribed by Tibetan Buddhists as a foundation practice prior to receiving initiation. One does not worship the personality of the guru but seeks liberation through merging with the guru’s true nature of Being-Consciousness-Bliss (Sat-Cit-Ananda) (Feuerstein, 1998, p. 94). My personal experience of H. H. Gyalwa Karmapa XVI was that his energy was so potent I needed to extend a large degree of faith and trust to overcome my fear of his power and submit myself to his presence.
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243 Challenges of Kundalini rising. Whatever the cause of a Kundalini rising, when Kundalini Shakti is released, one experiences the full intensity of an encounter with a Goddess—and Kundalini Shakti is considered no less than this by people who experience Her power and autonomy (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, October 21, 2000). In Jung’s terms, Kundalini Shakti is an archetype, which, by definition, induces experiences of the numinosum. Kundalini yoga practitioner Bonnie Greenwell describes seven categories of phenomena that typically occur during a Kundalini awakening:140 1. Pranic141 activity or kriyas:142 intense involuntary body movements, shaking, vibrations, jerking, and the sensation of electricity, tingling, and rushes of energy flooding the body . . . . 2. Physiological problems: these may include the activation of latent illness or pseudo illness, apparent heart problems, gastro-intestinal disorders, nervous problems, eating disorders, and pains occurring in various parts of the body, especially along the spine and in the head and other difficulties that usually prove difficult to diagnose or treat. 3. Yogic phenomena: the body may involuntarily perform yogic postures (asanas) or hand movements (mudras) that the subject has never before seen, and the psyche may produce symbolic images or the mind produce chants, Sanscrit [sic] words, tones and a variety of specific sounds commonly recorded in the yogic tradition. 4. Psychological and emotional upheavals: there can be an intensification of any unresolved psychological tendencies and issues, fear of death or insanity, mood swings, and overwhelming waves of anxiety, anger, guilt, or depression as well as intense compassion, unconditional love, and heightened sensitivity to the moods of others. 5. Extrasensory experiences: these may include visual input (lights, symbols, images of entities, the reviewing of what appears to be other lives, and visions) or auditory input (hearing a voice, music, or phrase) or olfactory [sensation] (perhaps smelling sandlewood, [sic] perfume or incense). Harrigan (2000) prefers the term release to awakening because she says that Kundalini is never really asleep.
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Prana as a general term is subtle energy flow.
A kriya is a bodily movement that is partly voluntary at best and is often seen in those experiencing Kundalini rising.
244 6. Parapsychological experiences: psychic awareness, unusual synchronicities, healing abilities, and psychokinesis are the most commonly reported occult phenomena. 7. Samadhi or satori experiences: absorption of consciousness into mystical states of unity, peace, light or energy; less intensive trance states; tranquility, joy, and overwhelming waves of bliss occurring during or after meditation or spontaneously at other times. (Greenwell, 1990, pp. 29-30) Harrigan (2000) and Feuerstein (1998a) say that many of the uncomfortable or distressing phenomena described above are avoided or greatly reduced if one follows the guidance of a qualified adept and undergoes a sufficient purification regimen. I infer from Harrigan’s writing and teaching and the reports of various adepts that although some of the transformation can be pleasurable, few if any experience a completely comfortable Kundalini rising, unless they are well-prepared and spiritually focused. Such a momentous process as a Goddess moving through and transforming one’s heart, soul, and mind is almost impossible to conceive without having some experiences of great intensity. In this regard, Gopi Krishna writes: Like the vast majority of men interested in Yoga I had no idea that a system designed to develop the latent possibilities and nobler qualities in man could be fraught with such danger at times as to destroy the sanity or crush life out of one by the sheer weight of entirely foreign and uncontrollable conditions of the mind. (Krishna, 1967, p. 48) Here is an example of an experience that stretched the limits of sanity from the personal account of Irina Tweedie. Greenwell introduces that experience: It began as she lay comfortably in bed, and felt a vibration, and a sound she had never before heard like a soft hiss in the lower part of her abdomen. Suddenly she was flooded with powerful sexual desire, with no object in particular, an uncontrollable, wild, cosmic force that felt like madness. (Greenwell, 1990, p. 156) Then Greenwell quotes Tweedie: “The whole body was SEX ONLY, every cell, every particle was shouting for it, even the skin, the hands, the nails, every atom. I felt my hair standing up as if
245 filled with electricity, waves of wild goose-flesh ran over my whole body, making all hair on the body stand stiff . . . and the sensation was painful. But the inexplicable thing was that even the idea of any kind of intercourse was repulsive and did not even occur to me. The body was shaking . . . I was biting my pillow not to howl like a wild animal. . . . The mind was absolutely void, . . . there was no imagery; only an uncontrollable fear . . . . And it went on for hours.” (Tweedie, quoted in Greenwell, 1990, pp. 156-157) Kundalini yoga directly links the body’s sexual potency with its transformative process, envisioning male and female sexual fluids and energies as raw material to be transformed in their ascent and united at the cerebral vault to produce amrita,143 a subtle nectar that drips down into the subtle body and creates a cooling bliss (Feuerstein, 1998a; White, 1996). Gopi Krishna describes how he spontaneously experienced Kundalini’s use of his sexual potency to fuel Her transformative work: A new type of force was now racing through my system connected unmistakably with the sexual parts . . . [that seemed] forced by an invisible mechanism to produce the vital seed in abnormal abundance to be sucked up by the network of nerves at the base of the spine for transmission into the brain through the spinal cord . . . . I could readily perceive the transmutation of the vital seed into radiation . . . into that extremely subtle and ordinarily imperceptible stuff we call nervous energy . . . with the difference that the energy now generated possessed luminosity and was of a quality allowing detection of its rapid passage through the nerves and tissues, not only by its radiance but also by the sensations it caused with its movement. (Krishna, 1967, pp. 88-89) However, Harrigan, hearing this passage, comments that Gopi Krishna’s experience is not necessarily typical, but may comprise the working through of desires (vasanakshaya) through the psychological unloading process accelerated by the attainment of makara point (see below). Here, vasana is a drive, and kshaya is loss or erasure of that drive. Harrigan adds that in the monastic tradition, the transmutation of sexual fluid into soma
As noted in Chapter 6, amrita apparently corresponds with the healing balsam of Western alchemy.
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246 (elixir of immortality) or ojas (numinous energy) or amrita (nectar) is done through kuhu nadi.144 The transmuted substance goes to the brain as endorphins that make the unloading process easier. Although this process is not necessarily typical, it is why monks treasure celibacy. If the transmutation succeeds, it is a real boon (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, May 7, 2001). Such Kundalini rising experiences are symbolized in Tantric alchemy’s equation of the male seed with the element Mercury, which had to be processed many times to transmute its poisonous nature into an elixir. Female sexual fluid and menstrual blood hold similar places of importance in the Tantric alchemical equation (White, 1996). The alchemical tradition that originated in Egypt and spread throughout the known world, including Europe, India, and the Far East, holds that the microcosm of the human body is homologous with the macrocosm of the known universe. The connection of the direct and very physical experience of Kundalini rising with symbols of macrocosmic significance calls for a description of the Tantric subtle body in its corresponding metaphysical context. But, as noted earlier, the pragmatic means for attaining unity with the macrocosm, equivalent to the unus mundus of Western alchemy, is symbolized in “twilight language,” or hidden symbolism, of texts such as Sat-CakraNirupana—symbolism that can only be understood by an adept practitioner who has been initiated into its meaning through a guru’s oral instruction and has had their own personal experience (White, 1996; Feuerstein, 1998a; Harrigan, 2000). Jung notes that the Indian
Harrigan interprets the nadis as subtle energy pathways and says that these do not correspond with the system of nerves known by Western anatomy, even though many writers about Indian subtle anatomy translate nadi as “nerve” (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, October 21, 2000).
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247 way to describe the path to the Ultimate begins with the metaphysical assertion of Brahman, the Absolute (Jung, 1996; Feuerstein, 2000). To approach a synairetic145 sense of truth of Kundalini yoga concepts, I discuss, below, the cultural/historical context of Advaita Vedanta, the “not-two” philosophy of the Vedas, Samkhya, a collection of dualist schools, and the yoga of Patanjali, which is also a dualist conception. What follows is the briefest approximation of a more complete historical summary that would be beyond the scope of this dissertation. A discussion of the difficulties of Kundalini rising continues below, when I present Harrigan’s description of the subtle body found in Indian philosophy. The Origins of India’s Sacred Texts Bhattacharyya (1999) writes that there is evidence of the very early existence of meditation in a figure absorbed in apparent meditative repose discovered in the Indus Valley civilization at Harappa. That civilization was founded and flourished during the second to third millennia, BCE (Gove, et al., 2000). This suggests that people meditated at least 4,000 to 5,000 years ago. Russell Park (2000) says that Kundalini yoga is at least 7,000 years old. In other words, the origins of meditation in India extend to the earliest archeological history, and possibly beyond. According to Bhattacharyya (1999), the history of Tantric practices is a syncretic interweaving of new revelations with existing religious forms. I propose as a working
Synairetic here denotes an aperspectival synthesis of more than two elements (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985).
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248 hypothesis that the evolution of these early religious forms may approximate the description of the evolving concept of soul given in Chapter 6, “Subtle Body.” The earliest known sacred literature of India is a collection of texts called the Vedas. “Veda” means “knowledge” or “sacred lore” (Gove, et al., 2000). Feuerstein (1998b, p. 81) writes that Vedic civilization may extend as far back as 5,000 BCE, which supports Park’s (2000) dating of the antiquity of Kundalini yoga. More to the point, experiences and practices of the yoga traditions occur spontaneously to people who are not familiar with those traditions. Thus, the assignment of originary dates is not entirely germane to a variety of innate human experiences that are triggered by the proper conditions. Historical context does apply to the vocabulary of yoga philosophy. Feuerstein (1998b, pp. 79-87) offers an approximated cultural-historical overview of Hinduism. He notes that his division of various traditions into specific groups is an artificial one, given their overlapping influences. A lack of chronological specificity is due to various religious movements and their texts developing alongside and being influenced by each other. Also, historians disagree about chronology for many reasons that have not yet been settled, including the reporting of astronomical and geological phenomena in some texts. In addition, many texts that were written in the forms we know today descended through oral traditions, having older texts included as parts of later ones. With these reservations in mind, Feuerstein offers a chronological list of nine distinct periods, the: (a) Pre-Vedic Age (6500-4500 BCE), (b) Vedic Age (4500-2500 BCE), (c) Brahmanical Age (2500-1500 BCE), (d) Post-Vedic/Upanishadic Age (15001000 BCE), (e) Pre-Classical or Epic Age (1000-100 BCE), (f) Classical Age (100 BCE-500 CE), (g) Tantric/Puranic Age (500-1300 CE), (h) Sectarian Age (1300-
249 1700 CE), and (i) Modern Age (1700-present) (Feuerstein, 1998b, pp. 82-87). Sat-Cakra-Nirupana (Investigation of the Six Centers), the classic text by the 16th-century adept, Purnananda, was written in 1577, during the Sectarian Age, as part of a larger text entitled Sri-Tattva-Cintamani (Feuerstein, 1997, p. 275 ; Avalon, 1974). The Avalon translation includes commentary by an 18th-century author, Kalicarana. The edition released as The Serpent Power is the core text of Jung’s 1932 Kundalini seminar (Avalon, 1974). The primary bodies of sacred literature that present the symbolic concepts of Kundalini yoga are the Vedas, Upanishads, Tantras, and Puranas (Goswami, 1999). There are over 200 Upanishads. The Upanishads are esoteric spiritual scriptures that interpret the essence of the Vedas to practice contemplation and meditation in order to have spiritual experience (Feuerstein, 1998b, p. 99; J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, June 11, 2001). The Puranas are myths and folktales that date back approximately to the time of the Vedas. Puranas of the post-Vedic age include parts of the Ramayana, and the Mahabharata. The Vedas comprise the earliest revealed literature (shruti)146 and consist of the Rig-Veda, Yajur-Veda, Sama-Veda, and Atharva-Veda. These texts established four estates (shudras) of society that were the basis for the later development of the system of castes (jati). The brahmana estate were the priests, and were distinct from warriors, merchants, and servants, the last group being ineligible for initiation into the Vedic tradition (Feuerstein, 1998b, pp. 83, 80-81). Pre-modern India suffered no split between
Torwesten (1985/1991, p. 23) characterizes shruti as revealed scriptures, or what is heard beyond the human intellect.
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250 spiritual and pragmatic knowledge, and thus its sacred literature included all manner of instructions for conducting daily life, including Ayur-Veda, a body of medical teachings that originate in the Vedic age. The exclusion of people of the fourth estate from initiation into the Vedic tradition established the need for a literature that met their quest for vital information. This exclusion also set the stage for Buddhism as a revelatory alternative to the Brahmanism that exalted the brahmana estate147 (Feuerstein, 1998b; Bhattacharyya, 1999). The alternative texts that emerged to meet this need were the Tantras. According to White, the root of tantra is tan, which means “‘to stretch,’ as one would a thread on a loom.” Thus tantra has the meaning, “‘the warp (of reality).’” Tantra is also related to the word, tanu, “a body . . . to be sacrificed on an altar within the ritual framework.” He adds, “those persons who followed the way of tantra were called tantrikas, and their written and orally transmitted works the Tantras” (White, 1996, pp. 1-2). It is in this last sense that Feuerstein writes that tantra is a synonym for textbook (Feuerstein, 1997, p. 303). Thus the tantras offer information about the weaving together of reality, a context for life, practical information, and spiritual practices. Feuerstein (1997) notes that the sexual symbolism of tantra and especially the often frowned upon left-hand path of tantra that includes maithuna, (ritualized sexual union), has allowed some Westerners to equate Tantra itself with such sexual practices. He criticizes the popularization of this misconception in New Age publications and
Buddhism was, itself, challenged by the Advaita Vedanta of Shankaracharya, which is discussed below (Bhattacharyya, 1999).
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251 practices of what he calls “neo-tantra,” and distinguishes the traditional left-hand path as being pursued for transcendence, not personal gratification. He cites a moving description by a practitioner of the left-hand path of maithuna to illustrate a true initiation by an adept (Feuerstein, 1998a, pp. 243-245). That adept, the anonymous Lady in Saffron, offers the following majestic description of sexuality’s central place as one of the mysteries of human existence. She also emphasizes the need to transcend sex-oriented emotions in this teaching enunciated shortly before her death: Of all the emotions man suffers from . . . sex and sex-oriented emotions demand the most vital sacrifice. It is the most demanding and the most daring of emotions; it is also the most self-centred, next to hunger. It adores the self most, and hates to share its joy and consummation. It is wanted the most, it is regretted the most. It is creative; it is destructive. It is joy; it is sorrow. Bow to sex, the hladini [the power of ecstasy].xxv cites (Bhattacharya, Brajamadhava (1988). The World of Tantra. New Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal, p. 42, cited in Feuerstein, 1998a, pp. 244245) According to N. N. Bhattacharyya (1999), Like the Vedas, the Tantras offered a variety of information, including medical and psychological treatises. Tantras addressing the last of these categories have unfortunately been lost. In all, they provided practical and spiritual information without promoting the hegemony of the brahmanic estate. And, they taught the equal importance of the Female Principle, embodied in the divine energy of manifestation, Shakti. Bhattacharyya attributes the incorporation of the Shakti principle to a syncretism with worship of the Divine Mother in ancient Indian matriarchal society (Bhattacharyya, 1999). He also notes the strong possibility that much of the spiritual technology of Tantrism may originate in China. Indian Metaphysics Relate Macrocosm to Microcosm Indian metaphysical debate down through the ages has dealt with the sensing of two different perceptions of realities by adepts. The first is a transcendent reality, or
252 creation in potential, the other comprises maya, the impermanent manifestation of material existence inhabited by countless, apparently separate, mortal entities. India’s spiritual traditions assist the seeker in realizing the commensurability of the microcosm of the human body with cosmos. Samkhya. The first Vedic conception of this apparent duality is Samkhya (Enumeration), which envisions numerous transcendental selves (purushas) that are omnipresent. These are separate from the transcendental matrix of Nature (prakriti). Feuerstein notes that the pluralism of Samkhya’s omnipresent purushas is illogical because they would infinitely intersect each other and thus be identical (Feuerstein, 1998b, p. 101). However, he says that the Samkhya tradition seeks less to explain the world than transcend it (p. 103). The transcendental matrix of Nature is a balance of three gunas (dynamic qualities). These are sattva, whose qualities are joy, buoyancy, and illumination; rajas, which is joyless, activating, stimulating, and mobile; and tamas, which is restricting, inert, and concealing. The three gunas work together and are interdependent, productive, cooperative, and purposeful in their function. Here is how Feuerstein includes the gunas in his summary of the Samkhya vision from the transcendence of purusha to the emanation of the world from the matrix of Nature, prakriti: According to the Samkhya-Karika, the gunas are in a state of balance in the transcendental dimension of Nature, known as prakriti-pradhana (“Nature’s Foundation”). The first product or evolute to appear in the process of evolution from this transcendental matrix to the multiplicity of space-time forms is mahat, meaning literally “great one,” or great principle. It has the appearance of luminosity and intelligence, and is therefore also known as buddhi (“intuition” or “cognition”), standing for higher wisdom. But, in reality, mahat is in itself quite unconscious (as are all aspects of Nature), and it represents only a particularly
253 refined form of matter-energy.148 It depends on the transcendental SelfConsciousness for its “light” of intelligence. Out of the mahat, or buddhi, emerges ahamkara (“I-maker”), the principle of individuation, which ushers in the distinction between subject and object. This existential category, in turn, causes the appearance of the lower mind (manas), the five cognitive senses (sight, smell, taste, touch, and hearing), and the five conative senses (speech, prehension, movement, excretion, and reproduction). The ahamkara principle further gives rise to the five subtle essences (tanmatra) underlying the sensory capacities. They, in turn, produce the five gross material elements (bhuta), namely earth, water, fire, air, and ether. (Feuerstein, 1998b, p. 102) An examination of this hierarchical stepping down of transcendental Selves and Nature into conscious manifestation implies a path of return through stilling the mind, realizing and relinquishing the attachments to mundane existence. Classical yoga. The ashtangayoga of Patanjali’s Yoga-Sutras, outlined earlier, offers a practical means for progressive renunciation of worldly attachments and reabsorption into the divine. This is done through earnest and lengthy practices. An examination of the later practices helps us understand that they result in an increase of concentration, not yogic sleep. To summarize the first four limbs of ashtangayoga, they are yama (moral restraint), niyama (self-restraint), asana (posture), and pranayama (breath control). The first two limbs discipline one’s activities and worldly desires. This is comparable to the result one might attain in psychological treatment, especially when the individuation process gains momentum, and one develops a reciprocal relationship between the ego and the self. The next two limbs depart from anything usually149 encountered in analytical
This description resembles Jung’s conception of the archetypes or gods, which influence us autonomously but lack consciousness. With an exception that Jung, himself, practiced and taught modified forms of these two limbs (Jung, 1961/1989; 2001).
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254 psychology because they employ ancient techniques to discipline and prepare the body for transcendent consciousness. Together, asana and pranayama can help release Kundalini Shakti and purify the physical and subtle bodies to enable a safer rising. Here is an example of these two limbs working together. Properly sitting in a familiar seated posture of hatha yoga, with one’s torso erect, legs crossed, and feet tucked, constricts the anus. Thus the root and throat bandhas (locks) are engaged. If the head is in the correct position, with the chin pulled in, this constricts the throat. Certain pranayama exercises with the throat and anal locks engaged create pranic heat in the central channel, sushumna, located within the spinal column. People used to the lotus asana can remain comfortably alert for extended periods of concentration and pranayama. As noted above, “when the conditions in the subtle body are such that the mind is one-pointedly concentrated and the vital energies are flowing with a specific direction, speed, and heat, a Kundalini release and rising can occur” (S. Chandrasekharanand Saraswati, personal communication to Harrigan, cited in Harrigan, 2000, pp. 59-60). The last four limbs of Patanjali’s yoga depart further from analytical psychology by promoting substantial and progressive increases in concentration, from a one-pointed focus to an absorption in yogic bliss and power that transcends any spatial conception. The four limbs referenced here are: (a) Pratyahara (sensory inhibition), (b) dharana (concentration upon an object), (c) dhyana (meditation), and (d) samadhi (ecstasy resulting in mystical union) (Feuerstein, 1998a, pp. 124-125). The goal of this practice appears entirely different than that of analytical psychology in the individual’s absorption into the divine and the disappearance of ego. However, yogic adepts often remain
255 involved in the world and integrate their other-worldly and mundane consciousness, contra Jung’s contention that the goal of yoga is to transcend and leave this life. A description of the phases of progressive concentration illustrates the misconception in Jung’s earlier writing that yogic transcendence is equivalent to death. S. S. Goswami, a yoga adept and scholar, notes that “concentration is not focused thought (bhawana)150 but is the process consisting of dharana, dhyana and samadhi.151 It does not come into being unless pratyahara is first established.” Goswami, 1999, p. 37) Feuerstein’s definition of pratyahara clarifies this statement. According to Feuerstein: The *152Maitrayaniya-Upanishad (6.25) compares pratyahara to the retraction of our sensory awareness in *sleep. This comparison is somewhat unfortunate, however, because pratyahara is a completely voluntary process and does not lead to a state of diminished *awareness but one of intensified *consciousness . . . . According to the *Tejo-Bindu-Upanishad (1.34), pratyahara is the twelfth “limb” of the fifteen-limbed Yoga (*panca-dasha-anga-yoga).153 It is defined here as the “pleasant consciousness” (citta-ranjaka) that beholds the *Self in all things. This is in contrast to most other definitions, which suggest a state of acute inwardness. (Feuerstein, 2000, p. 230) Chapter 4 addressed the issue of whether samadhi is a form of yogic sleep and included Ramana Maharshi’s warning that practitioners stay alert rather than being captivated by the melting of the mind. As noted by Feuerstein, above, the yogic literature can be slightly confusing on this point because some of the states of awareness are related to
The intermittent use of italics reproduces Goswami’s system of indicating pronunciation of these Sanskrit words. In Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras, these three when practiced together are referred to as samyama (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, June 11, 2001).
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The asterisks indicate words listed alphabetically in Feuerstein’s book.
This passage cites a 12-limbed yoga, which differs from Patanjali’s 8-limbed version. Differences of detail are common across schools of Indian spirituality.
256 states of sleep. However, these sources also describe meditative states of consciousness that pass beyond ordinary states of sleep (Avalon, 1972, pp. 79-82). Goswami offers the following summary of the progressive concentration of the last four limbs of Patanjali’s Yoga-Sutras. His summary relates these stages to yogic attainment: Concentration is a mental process of reducing multiform consciousness to a point, termed bindu. The development of this mental power is dependent upon the transformation of the diversified pranic forces into a state of pranic concentration and withdrawal by which the vital and sensory functions become internalized. These are the processes of pranayama and pratyahara. Thereafter, and on the basis of pratyahara, pranic dynamism functions in the mind and rouses the slumbering mentative energy which expresses itself as dharana-power, the immensely strong power to hold the one-pointedness of consciousness in the form of only one object, for a sufficiently long time to be effective. This power grows step by step, and it is then possible to continuously maintain single-objectiveness of consciousness uninterruptedly and for a prolonged period of time. This produces very deep concentration; and from that deep concentration a ‘mental light’ comes into being which can be focussed [sic] on any object, inner or outer. This state of consciousness is called dhyana. Prolonged and repeated dhyana deepens concentration so that it reaches the bindu state. This is the highest point of mental concentration in which consciousness is maximally concentrated to a point and the truth-exposing concentration-light shines forth. This is samprajnata samadhi. Ultimately, samprajnata samadhi consciousness is coiled into bodiless and mind-transcendent supreme consciousness in asamprajnata samadhi. (Goswami, 1999, pp. 37-38) The recitation of mantra in dharana, which involves fixing one’s attention, is linked to visualizing deities using yantras, which are instruments or tools that represent sacred images, whether a pictorial representation of a deity (pratima), or a geometric mandala (Zimmer, 1926/1984). Each petal154 of the power centers has a unique sound, or phoneme, represented by a Sanskrit letter. Recitation of combinations of these phonemes in mantra generates a specific deity. Deities of the Indian pantheon are considered aspects
As noted earlier, my personal experience in meditation suggests that there is an objective existence to the petals. Although these did not have Sanskrit letters on them, I might have perceived the sounds represented by the letters if I had achieved greater stillness in meditation.
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257 of the supreme God, which may be Shiva, Vishnu, or Brahma, according to the lineage. Each sound is uniquely represented by a letter in the Sanskrit alphabet. The letters and sounds are said to be objectively existent in a particular lotus, rather than being randomly assigned (Bhattacharyya, 1999). Reciting these sounds generates the deity and its aspects. The aspirant identifies with the deity, which helps in transcending various desires and attachments. Goswami (1999, p. 102) writes that there are four forms of sound, which are increasingly subtle and potent, and which manifest the phenomenal world.155 Goswami correlates increasing ability to recite increasingly subtle sound with progressive depth of samadhi, until one achieves nirvikalpa (objectless) samadhi. He offers a detailed description of the oscillatory state of normal perception that is attached to objects, and notes that the smallest unit of such conditioned association is a vritti. The arising of vrittis appears to be continuous because only advanced practitioners can perceive gaps between them. With increased concentration, one silences sensorymental impulses and realizes one’s identity with the Divine Ground of existence. The uniformity of a non-oscillating consciousness thus achieved is characterized by Goswami as “a supernormal, superintellective, superaffectionate and superilluminated state” as contrasted with the unconsciousness that Jung at times feared might be equivalent to the yogic sense of unity156 (Goswami, 1999). However, there are less advanced states of samadhi that do fit within his formulation of enlightenment in an asymptotic
My experience confirms that spoken mantra is less potent in its subjective effect than silently repeated mantra. Let me note again that Jung eventually acknowledged the psychic reality of the unity consciousness of mystics as the content of samadhi or satori and the importance of the experience, itself, even if he could not formulate this as a consciousness that must have an object (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, pp. 539-540).
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258 fashion157, where the extension of consciousness without an ego and the diminution of ego approach infinite size and insignificance, respectively. I can only wonder whether the anecdotal experience of Gopi Krishna, below, represents the asymptotically inverse relationship of the extension of consciousness and retraction of ego in a way that the purusha is described by Jung as “smaller than small, and greater than great” (Jung, 1996, p. 39, citing the Katha Upanishad). I felt the point of consciousness that was myself growing wider, surrounded by waves of light. It grew wider and wider, spreading outward while the body, normally the immediate object of its perception, appeared to have receded into the distance until I became entirely conscious of it. I was now all consciousness, without any outline, without any idea of a corporeal appendage, without any feeling or sensation coming from the senses, immersed in a sea of light simultaneously conscious and aware of every point, spread out, as it were, in all directions without any barrier or material obstruction. I was no longer myself, or to be more accurate, no longer as I knew myself to be, a small point of awareness confined in a body, but instead was a vast circle of consciousness in which the body was but a point, bathed in light and in a state of exaltation and happiness impossible to describe. After some time, the duration of which I could not judge, the circle began to narrow down; I felt myself contracting, becoming smaller and smaller, until I again became dimly conscious of the outline of my body, then more clearly; and as I slipped back to my old condition, I became suddenly aware of the noises in the street, felt again my arms and legs and head, and once more became my narrow self in touch with body and surroundings. (Krishna, 1967, p. 13) Advaita Vedanta. An alternative philosophy to the dualistic approaches is Advaita Vedanta, whose primary proponent was Shankara (a.k.a. Shankaracharya, where acharya is a religious authority). Shankara lived in the 8th century, CE, and was a prolific teacher and debater (Torwesten, 1985/1991). According to Torwesten, Advaita Vedanta seeks to explain away the ego, so that, “if we ‘apply the axe to the root of the I,’ the whole illusory world will vanish—along with all its perplexing diversity—and in a flash reality,
Sonja Seltzer offers this mathematical interpretation of infinity (personal communication, March 24, 2001).
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259 or Brahman, the one-without-a-second, will be seen” (p. 116). This formulation brings to mind the breakthrough described by Zen Buddhists and Meister Eckhart. Shankara taught that the Upanishads speak relative truth to those who are not yet liberated while speaking otherwise to the enlightened. Some have accused Shankara of thus creating a dual reality system, one relative, one absolute (pp. 120-121). However, I infer that this difference inheres only in how one perceives. Shankara’s philosophical sophistication is apparent in his description of maya. “’She is neither existent, nor non-existent, nor both; neither same, nor different, nor both; neither composed of parts, nor an indivisible whole, nor both…’ (Vivekachudamani, 109)’” (Shankara quoted in Torwesten, 1985/1991, p. 138). With all attributes thus eliminated, the mind is defeated and consciousness remains. Torwesten summarizes Shankara’s eschatology as follows: For Shankara only one reality ultimately exists: the impersonal and attributeless Nirguna Brahman. For some reason, however, this one reality does not have the appearance of a seamless whole but of a plurality of separate entities: a personal god (Ishvara), a world (jagat) and countless individual embodied souls (jivas). Shankara calls this phenomenon and its potential power maya. Like a mirage, maya cannot be said to exist or not to exist, to be light or darkness, to be good or evil. As prakriti, maya is the womb of Nature, the origin of all form (including divine ones) and also what makes the universe seem object-like and something we can divide into constituent parts and analyze. As Shakti, maya has a more positive connotation as the creative (female) energy and omnipotence of the Lord of the Universe (Ishvara), who with her help projects the universe out of himself. In a more philosophical sense, however, maya is in Shankara’s system only a temporary aid, not unlike the unknown X in an equation which, while contributing to its solution, has no intrinsic reality of its own. (Torwesten, 1985/1991, pp. 143144) The dual and non-dual approaches are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Harrigan sees a complementary relationship between these approaches as a practitioner advances. Here, Advaita Vedanta’s rarified teaching is only for advanced practitioners of
260 sattvic temperament (joyful, buoyant, illuminated). The rest of us benefit from the concepts and techniques offered by the dualist philosophies of Samkhya and Patanjali’s classical yoga. She says in this regard that “the mind is a maya factory that creates delusion, distortion, covers and hides reality so that the ordinary person is caught in the play of the gunas. The methods of the dualistic traditions address the obstacles placed by the gunas so the person can become increasingly sattvic” (personal communication, May 7, 2001). These dualistic approaches help us harness our yearning and expend the effort to overcome our predominantly rajasic or tamasic temperaments, which are more easily captured by the power of maya. She adds that even people who understand and believe that the philosophy of monism is absolutely true may still be held under the sway of the gunas. Dualistic spiritual methods designed to purify tamasic and rajasic tendencies are more potent in reducing those two gunas as a preparation for practice of Advaita Vedanta. The latter approach tells us that there is One and that is all there is, and that we are already enlightened, just not aware of it. (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, May 7, 2001) The notion of different temperaments is an appropriate transition point to describe the different kinds of yogas. Different Yogas, Different Temperaments According to Harrigan, in contemporary India, “there are four major paths of yoga: karma yoga, bhakti yoga, raja yoga, and jnana yoga” (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, June 11, 2001). Karma yoga transcends ego through action. Bhakti yoga transcends ego through loving devotion to God (Feuerstein, 1998b). Harrigan describes raja yoga as “the path described in Patanjali’s Yoga Sutras.” She says that “Jnana yoga relies primarily on spiritual study, contemplation, and meditation,” (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, June 11, 2001) and adds:
261 Hatha yoga is used in all the paths in some way. Hatha yoga cultivates the body and includes poses, breathing practices, and physical contractions to control the functioning of the subtle body. Mantra yoga can be viewed as a subset of bhakti yoga, because it relies on devotional repetition of a name of the divine or a spiritually charged phoneme. Layayoga and Kundalini yoga both refer to the understanding of the process of going from the gross to the subtle regardless of the path that one chooses. (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, June 11, 2001) With such contextual material in place, we are ready to look at the phenomenon of Kundalini rising, which occurs along any of the paths discussed above. The discussion that follows is a summary of subtle body and Kundalini rising as it is understood by the lineage of Joan Harrigan, an advanced Kundalini yoga practitioner. Her lineage accepts Raja-Yoga and Advaita Vedanta, which are dualistic and non-dualistic philosophies, respectively. These two philosophies are linked because the great monists, Vyasa and Shankaracharya made profound commentaries on Patanjali’s dualistic Yoga-Sutras (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, June 11, 2001). Kundalini Risings I begin this section by letting Joan Harrigan present her own introduction of the reasons why it helps to recognize different kinds of Kundalini risings. Following is a transcription of a recent conversation, with only minor edits for textual flow. People talk about having a rising without differentiating what kind. The varieties of experience are many. To differentiate the kind helps explain why people have such different experiences. It is not by whim or luck that people have either a good experience or bad experience. The type of experience is based on past karma and how they got their rising in the first place. That may have happened lifetimes ago. One’s Kundalini rising depends on the condition of the subtle body at time of release. This is a result of a person’s circumstances, frame of mind, and karma. (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, May 7, 2001) I asked how Kundalini rising relates to individuation, reflecting on Harrigan’s workshop teaching of October 21, 2000, where she said that Kundalini is the spiritual
262 power within all of us, and that different types of risings can activate a variety of talents and abilities. She also said that even a person with an intermediate rising may not know that they have one. Harrigan responded: People with risings are more likely to individuate because they do not fit the template of the reigning paradigm. So, generally speaking, from their youth they have known themselves to be different and have not been as programmable by family and culture. In their early adulthood, they generally question programming and come up with their own way of doing things. They have to do this in order to accommodate the vicissitudes of their particular rising. They do not fit in and are not ordinary. This does not mean that a person with a Kundalini rising is a holy person or renunciate.158 Kundalini can be released by non-spiritual or spiritual means and a person can use the rising for non-spiritual or spiritual purposes. (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, May 7, 2001) To describe the types of Kundalini rising, we need a model of the subtle anatomy of Kundalini yoga. Harrigan portrays the five sheaths (koshas) of the incarnated human being as given in the Taittiriya Upanishad. These five koshas together comprise the three-fold division of gross body, subtle body, and causal body. The gross body is known in the Indian worldview as the food body. The subtle body consists of the vital sheath, mental sheath, and intellect sheath. The causal body is the bliss sheath, or Kundalini, which merges with the Divine One (Harrigan, 2000, p. x). This threefold division of sheaths is common to many world religions (Mann & Short, 1990). Yoga practices generally start the purification and renunciation processes with the gross sheath and penetrate to increasingly subtle realms of existence to realize samadhi in the causal body and beyond. The model of the subtle body of Kundalini yoga given in Chapter 3 of this study lists seven major power centers. Proceeding upward from the base of the spine, these are:
In her book, Harrigan notes as well that a Kundalini rising does not always correlate with genius (Harrigan, 2000, p. 16).
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263 muladhara, svadhisthana, manipura, anahata, visuddha, ajna, and sahasrara. All but the last two reside inside the central pathway of pranic energy flow called sushumna nadi, which is located in the subtle body region that is correlated to the inside of the physical spinal column. It is sometimes symbolically referenced in Indian texts that relate microcosm to macrocosm by correlating anatomy with such places as the mythical Mount Meru. Kundalini is coiled and dormant in muladhara, unless released. In Her dormant state, She is the source of life itself and manages the life force of the incarnated person, directing bodily, emotional, and mental processes. If released, She enters one of several pathways, and proceeds upward, attempting a journey to bindu, the causal point of power above the top of the head. When Kundalini reaches this pinnacle, a person is spiritually realized (Harrigan, 2000). Achieving culmination is not easy, however. Kundalini Shakti is so extremely potent that she fully transforms an ordinary person into a spiritual being in order to complete her journey. Along the way, She encounters physical impurities, toxins, and imbalances, emotional and mental attachments and habits, and so on, that She brings to resolution to remove these obstacles, allowing Her to proceed. The ancient psychospiritual technologies of yoga are designed to anticipate these needs for healing and purification and thus ease the journey of transcendence. According to Harrigan (2000), the circumstances of the individual at the time of release determine what pathway Kundalini Shakti will take as She attempts to complete Her journey. There are certain pathways in the network of many thousands of nadis (nadis are pathways for vayus, or subtle winds of bio-energy) from which Kundalini Shakti chooses. Some of these nadis culminate by connecting with a route to bindu,
264 others terminate before reaching that point. If Kundalini Shakti takes a non-culminating nadi, the person experiences a deflected rising, with Kundalini moving upward, only to fall again. She may also release into the culminating channel, sushumna, and encounter a linga cap that must be broken through before She can proceed. In such cases, the individual experiences a partial rising. These two types of unstable risings can strain the subtle body and cause a variety of symptoms as Kundalini attempts to improve her status. An experienced and adept teacher is needed together with the cooperation of the aspirant to redirect a deflected rising or help someone with a partial rising break through the linga cap159 to achieve at least an intermediate rising. This can be done through spiritual exercises conducted by the aspirant, and guided by an accomplished spiritual director, or guru. Following a thorough assessment, Harrigan tells me that the granthi at my ajna center, was opened following my sincere practice for a year of a method given in the lineage of His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa XVI in 1977 (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, January 16, 2001). I experienced this as a lucidly dreamed journey out of the body to see a rainbow White Light, followed by a return through a tunnel (a nadi) to settle back into my body. To assist this discussion, the types of Kundalini risings are represented in Figure 14, below.
Linga caps, granthis, and knots (granthis are translated as knots by some traditions) contain the progress of Kundalini Shakti within the different nadis in which such limiting structures appear. I discussed the reason for these structures with Harrigan, who inferred that a person needs challenges such as these to spiritually progress. She agreed that a person born with a full, complete, or advanced Kundalini rising (see below) but not sufficiently spiritually mature might misuse their power, thus there is a need for obstruction that only gives way with spiritual development.
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Figure 14. Kundalini risings. This figure correlates different types of risings with the nadis (bio-energy pathways) and power centers, and summarizes some of the characteristics of those risings. Note. From Kundalini Vidya: The Science of Spiritual Transformation (facing p. 66), by J. S. Harrigan, 2000, USA, Patanjali Kundalini Yoga Care. Copyright 2000 by Joan Shivarpita Harrigan, PhD. Reprinted with permission.
266 Not all risings encounter granthis and lingas, and different classical texts relate different locations of such subtle structures. Harrigan’s account of subtle body anatomy clarifies this issue by noting the presence or absence of knots in different nadis. Harrigan also notes that not all chakras may be activated during the initial phases of a Kundalini rising, depending on which nadi Kundalini Shakti enters (Harrigan, 2000). An intermediate rising proceeds through sushumna nadi to vishuddha or to lower ajna chakra. Such a rising is experienced as stable, because Kundalini “remains steadily positioned at the level attained” (Harrigan, 2000, p. 66). A full rising usually traverses sushumna nadi and rarely follows citrini nadi, which resides within sushumna, to upper ajna “at Makara point and beyond, reaching throughout the Sahasrara lotus and Brahma Randhra160 but below Bindu, the pinnacle” (p. 66). “At this level,” Harrigan adds, “spiritual life truly begins” because the person is “more able to objectively observe the contents of mind, it is possible for the container to be purified” (p. 66). It is at this stage that one can first observe the gaps between thoughts. Upon reaching makara point, one reaps the sought-after but challenging reward of what Harrigan calls the “Renovation and Restoration Phase” or “R&R.” Here is how she describes this purification process: This phase involves the strengthening, repairing, and detoxifying of the subtle body, which includes the energy, mind, and discernment levels of the person. this phase can take some time and may be physically and emotionally uncomfortable as the unconscious is unloaded and the entire subtle body system is improved. It can be made easier through skilled guidance and support of the process through the individual’s spiritual perspective and lifestyle. (p. 66) Brahma Randra is the extremely subtle, void aspect within the citrini nadi that is itself within sushumna (Goswami, 1999, p. 169). Harrigan notes that Brahma Randra is the 12-lotus top of the thousand-petalled lotus sahasrara and is located just below bindu, which is at the top of the head (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, June 11, 2001).
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R&R includes a psychological unloading process that may take several years and is described by Harrigan, who is also a psychologist, is comparable to a fully effective psychoanalysis. A spiritual life of conscience is also needed for R&R to be complete. I wonder, when looking at her description, whether Jung experienced at least elements of this during his descent into the unconscious starting in 1913. This process is recognized within the yoga tradition and is called vasanakshaya. Vasanas are drives or desires. Kshaya is a loss or erasure. Thus the word means something like the loss or erasure of desires (S. Chandrasekharanand Saraswati, personal communication, cited by J. S. Harrigan in personal communication, May 7, 2001). Harrigan writes that: Complete risings are to Bindu, which is at the end of Brahma nadi at the top of Sahasrara, the Thousand-petal lotus. This is the final stage of a rising but not the final stage of spiritual development. Vasanas (drives and mental impressions) may still be present in burnt form as Kundalini finishes the subtle body purging. Advanced risings occur after Complete risings and include the descending and reascending process of Kundalini. An Advanced rising is the goal of all spiritual paths. It can result in the individual attaining final Liberation, the total union of the soul with the One. The divine gift of becoming an adept (advanced saint) may also be bestowed. Many levels of advancement are available to advanced adepts. (Harrigan, 2000, p. 67) A great reward of reaching the Advanced Phase is that by this time, one connects with one’s inner lineage (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, October 15, 2000). How does a person determine whether they have a Kundalini rising? Harrigan summarizes the indicative signs as follows: The basic signs of a Kundalini rising that a person might experience are: deep yearning for inner development, inner sensations of light, sound, or heat, feelings of energy flowing or vibrating within, elevated sensitivity, spontaneous bodily movements, a heightened inner awareness, glimpses of bliss, an interest in spiritual growth or metaphysics, compassion for and desire to serve others, and a sense that something non-ordinary, transformative, or holy is happening.
268 Depending on the kind of rising a person has, individual experiences can vary considerably, ranging from one person’s especially aware and insightful calm focus to another’s dramatic and ego dystonic physical and mental discomforts. (Harrigan, 2000, p. 2) I was surprised to learn from Harrigan and others who describe Kundalini rising this way that one does not have to experience extreme symptoms to have a Kundalini rising. With limited access to adept teachers, a Kundalini folklore has grown up in the West that suggests that in order to undergo an actual Kundalini rising one must have the kinds of traumatic experiences reported by Irina Tweedie, earlier, or by others who speak of intense symptoms, such as searing heat, or intense physical and psychological phenomena. According to Harrigan, such experiences are typically the result of problematic risings, and may be made more intense by lifestyles, diets, and so on that are not designed to ease Kundalini’s attempt to rise (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, October 21, 2001). 1932 Kundalini Seminar Concepts and Sources This chapter would not be complete without addressing the additional concepts discussed and the sources used for Jung’s 1932 seminar on Kundalini yoga. Anyone who reads The Serpent Power by Sir John Woodroffe (Avalon, 1974) can see that it includes detailed information about the chakra symbolism beyond that treated in the commentaries of Jung and Hauer. As I approached this dissertation, I thought it might be useful to present and interpret that additional symbolism, such as the gods and goddesses (devatas), the geometric symbols, and the Sanskrit letters attributed to each chakra. Further reading of source materials and personal communications with Harrigan have convinced me that although I could present all of these details as found in source
269 texts, they would have little useful meaning to anyone but an experienced Kundalini yoga practitioner. Joan Harrigan notes, for instance, that the chakra discussions by Woodroffe lack a practitioner’s perspective (personal communication, October 21, 2000). The contrast between that perspective and those of a practitioner are illustrated by her teaching about the spears visualized in muladhara actually starting to rotate at the time of a Kundalini release. A review of Figure 1 in my third chapter shows that these spears are only crudely depicted in Woodroffe’s illustrations. Goswami, himself an adept practitioner, directly links the elements of practice to the chakra symbolism and includes such elements as pranayama, increasing stages of concentration, mantra recitation, and visualization of deities in his discussion. He cites well over 200 ancient texts in his own translation to illustrate key points and honor the empirical tradition noted earlier. His citations of the Upanishads, Tantras, and Puranas reveal that different practice traditions emphasize different numbers of chakras, different symbolism for the devatas, and so on. I am reminded of Joan Harrigan’s comment that each Kundalini rising is unique (personal communication, October 21, 2000), and her teaching that different chakras and obstructions are encountered when Kundalini takes alternative routes to reach Her goal. The Goswami and Harrigan accounts are just two reports by practitioners that offer a level of clarity not found in the Woodroffe (Avalon, 1974) or Zimmer (1926/1984) texts used by Jung and Hauer as source materials. This is not to say that Woodroffe and Zimmer did not contribute greatly by introducing new Sanskrit translations to the West for our contemplation and further clarification. Woodroffe certainly grounded his contributions in intensive scholarship. Zimmer’s translations and
270 essays attempt to intuit the Asian perspective and introduce us to the different purposes of Asian and Western art. He also offers a valuable introduction to many of the philosophical components of Indian spirituality. As a beginner in understanding that spirituality, and one who is only an aspirant to its practices, I do not offer the scholarship of either of these notable gentlemen, but rely on the texts and oral teachings of practitioners that were not available when they were issuing their translations. Before briefly visiting the Tibetan Buddhist and Taoist traditions, and then summarizing the findings of this chapter, let me offer some additional reports by practitioners that bear on the 1932 seminar. Harrigan shares psychological attributes of the chakras that differ from most of those of Jung in that they relate to everyday experience, at the sthula (gross) and suksma (subtle) realms (Harrigan, 2000, pp. 93-122). However, his description of bodily locations for different aspects of psychological orientation noted in my third chapter do correlate with her discussion (Jung, 1996, p. 85). Harrigan’s description of chakra attributes tells aspirants what can be expected during the Restoration and Renovation phase after reaching the makara point in upper ajna (brow chakra) and as Kundalini makes her less efficient attempts prior to this. I have experienced many of these characteristics as I become increasingly self-aware at my present stage of an unstable, partial rising. And, I expect that even someone who has not had a Kundalini rising but is psychologically aware can note that bodily locations correlate with different kinds of psychological experience. Harrigan does not comment on the journey of individuation in the way that Jung does, nor on the symbolism experienced in dreams and active imagination during that journey. She supports the psychotherapeutic endeavor as a
271 preparation and assistance to Kundalini process. With regard to meditation practice, she takes the more traditional, yogic approach of not becoming overly attached to such symbolism as it arises because such attachment would keep one focused at the subtle, psychic level of awareness and could distract one from the increasing concentration needed to transcend (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, October 21, 2000). Other Recommended Sources Jung and Hauer briefly discussed many conceptual elements of Indian metaphysical philosophy during the Kundalini seminar, which I assembled in tabular form at the end of Chapter 3. In doing so, they admitted that their intention was not to teach Kundalini yoga in its own right, but to use these concepts to amplify Jung’s individuation construct. To understand those concepts in the context of their native tradition, I use Feuerstein’s (2000) The Shambhala Encyclopedia of Yoga, which I heartily recommend to others for its clarity and its contextual integration. His works, in general, are very helpful for attempting to understand the vast history and varied conceptual frameworks of the yoga tradition. I describe and recommend some of these below. Because Feuerstein’s definitions often include a good deal of context, they are too lengthy to be included as a third column of the same table presented in Chapter 3. For readers wanting a cultural/historical overview of yoga in its many aspects I recommend Feuerstein’s comprehensive work, The Yoga Tradition: Its History, Literature, Philosophy and Practice (Feuerstein, 1998b). Those wanting a more detailed understanding of India’s Tantric canon may want to consult Bhattacharyya’s (1999) History of the Tantric Religion, which also includes an extensive glossary of terms.
272 Feuerstein recommends (and this beginner concurs) that Goswami’s (1999) Layayoga: The Definitive Guide to the Chakras and Kundalini is what it claims to be, “the definitive guide.” This text is not easy reading, although the reason for this is not a lack of clarity. I have found that months of study of the basic yoga concepts are making it easier for me to put the detailed discussion in this unparalleled text in context. My extensive use of her material correctly implies my recommendation of Harrigan’s (2000) Kundalini Vidya: The Science of Spiritual Transformation as a text that offers practice details not found elsewhere. I note especially her discussion of Vedic subtle anatomy and the vicissitudes of different kinds of risings that I have not seen catalogued elsewhere. When I asked Harrigan to recommend a book by another native Indian practitioner, she endorsed Devata Shakti (Kundalini): Divine Power by Tirtha (1993). She recommends this book and many others, which she makes available to Westerners at her website: http://www.kundalinicare.com. Such texts are also available by mail at Patanjali Kundalini Yoga Care, 234 Morrell Rd., Suite 108, Knoxville, TN 37919. A less comprehensive and more idiosyncratic text that recounts an Indian practitioner’s difficulties during his extensive Kundalini experiences is Gopi Krishna’s (1967) Kundalini: The Evolutionary Energy in Man. Jungian readers may be especially interested in this text because it includes a commentary by James Hillman.161 Also, two of Gopi Krishna’s experiences related in this book offer context for Jung’s refusal to
In Chapter 4, I mentioned two other sources of Jungian interpretation of the Kundalini yoga chakras, symbols, and concepts, and the 1932 seminar, itself. These are Hinduism and Jungian Psychology by Spiegelman and Vasavada (1987) and Jung and Eastern Thought by Coward (1985a).
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273 unreservedly accept the idea of unitary consciousness. I quote, above, Krishna’s account of an extension of consciousness far beyond his ego. Let me add the following quote, which refutes Jung’s contention in his letter to Vasavada dated November 22, 1954, that we conflate the Indian claim of enlightenment with the unlimited experience of the self. In that letter, Jung states the impossibility of speaking in foreign tongues (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987). Compare this passage by Gopi Krishna, which supports the claims of yoga’s ancient rishis (seers). He writes that in December, 1949, he was walking with a companion when he experienced an expansion of mind and no longer heard the voice of my companion; she seemed to have receded into the distance though walking by my side. Near me, in a blaze of brilliant light, I suddenly felt what seemed to be a mighty conscious presence sprung from nowhere encompassing me and overshadowing all the objects around, from which two lines of a beautiful verse in Kashmiri poured out to float before my vision, like luminous writing in the air, disappearing as suddenly as they had come. (Krishna, 1967, p. 207) He soon found himself writing additional verses in Kashmiri, then in English, then in Urdu, then in Punjabi, then in Persian. These languages were decreasingly familiar until he encountered Persian, with which he was unfamiliar although was able to recognize many words (pp. 211-12). Gopi Krishna writes that he would receive an inner notification to prepare to receive verses, but soon these were in a totally unfamiliar language: German was followed by French and Italian. Then came a few verses in Sanskrit followed by Arabic. Surely there could be nothing more convincing than the phenomena I had witnessed during the previous few weeks to bring the idea irresistibly home to me that I was in occasional contact with an inexpressible fount of all knowledge and that but for my inability to understand and transcribe, I could take down poetic pieces in most of the well-known languages of the earth. (Krishna, 1967, pp. 212-213)
274 Although this is a book of mostly personal experiences and conjectures, I highlight it because I find that nothing replaces the credible reports of practitioners when one seeks to verify or refute a spiritual phenomenon. Another practitioner text that is more comprehensive and integrates East and West is Greenwell’s (1990) Energies of Transformation: A Guide to the Kundalini Process. For further East/West integration, I recommend Sannella’s (1976) Kundalini: Psychosis or Transcendence, which includes case histories of Kundalini experiences and a differential comparison between Kundalini rising symptoms and those of epilepsy. For an overview of Tantric traditions in their many aspects, I recommend Feuerstein’s (1998a) Tantra: The Path of Ecstasy. Those seeking to make a detailed comparison between Western alchemy and Tantric alchemy will enjoy White’s (1996) The Alchemical Body: Siddha Tradition in Medieval India. This book is a scholarly and humorous exploration of that tradition, and includes details about Tantric alchemy I have not found elsewhere, with the caveat that his research mode at the time the book was written was hermeneutic, not that of a practitioner. The Tantric Buddhism of Tibet In the previous chapter, I mentioned that there are many parallels between the Tantric traditions of Tibet and India. Aura Glaser, a Tibetan Buddhist practitioner, says that Tibetan Tantra places less emphasis on the chakras than does Kundalini yoga. Different power centers are emphasized as required by a particular practice (A. Glaser, personal communication, 1999). This is congruent with Buddhism’s emphasis on the illusory nature of even the subtle realms compared to the experience of the void. Tantric Buddhism has a comparable understanding of the absorptive power of increasingly subtle
275 realms in the concept of dissolutions as one approaches realization of the Clear Light. It includes practices of mantra meditation, visualization of deities, increasing levels of concentration, and the idea of essential “drops” that are comparable to the bindu, or point, of yoga. Tantric Buddhism also has a concept of subtle sheaths, a living Tantric alchemy tradition, and practices similar to pranayama (Cozort, 1986). As noted above, I owe my enlivened interest in Tantra to spiritual awakening experiences that were primarily mediated by a Tibetan adept, His Holiness Gyalwa Karmapa XVI. I look forward to further study of that tradition, which is not emphasized here because this study focuses on Jung’s psychology as it relates to Kundalini yoga. Subtle Body Correspondences of Tantraism and Acupuncture The other most detailed subtle anatomy of which I am aware is that of Chinese acupuncture. The primary text of that tradition is the Nei Jing, The Yellow Emperor’s Classic. In a dissertation that integrates the Indian chakra system with Chinese acupuncture, Aminah Raheem writes that “in China today traditional medical texts are still based on the foundation of this classic and progressed through the centuries with additional empirical data and commentaries” (Raheem, 1984, p. 74). Raheem finds direct correspondences between the traditional chakra locations and those of specific acupoints. She also notes emotional conditions treated by acupuncture, using needles, herbs, and other techniques. My reading of her dissertation leads me to believe that the Chinese acupuncture system primarily emphasizes the physical body and the subtle energy sheaths closest to it. However, a fellow student in my master’s psychology program, Jim May, received acupuncture treatments and Taoist meditation instruction in Taiwan and subsequently experienced dramatic Kundalini awakening, accompanied by a dramatically
276 detailed ability to visualize the chakras and the acupoints as small chakras, or rotating vortices of white light (James May, personal communications, 1979-1981). Of course, Jung (1929/1983) offers a commentary on the Taoist alchemical text, The Secret of the Golden Flower. As noted above, Bhattacharyya (1999) writes that it is probable that the spiritual technology of Tantric yoga originated in China. He cites many similarities between Taoism and Tantric yoga. In addition to China and Tibet, he notes the spread of Tantric culture to Nepal, and possibly Persia, Iraq, and Mongolia (Bhattacharyya, 1999, p. 111). A more detailed comparison between these traditions is, unfortunately, beyond the scope of this study, but the parallels are well worth noting. Chapter Summary This chapter addresses the Indian practice of Kundalini yoga in its native tradition. It starts by introducing the inception of my personal interest in Tantra and states the need for principles of safe practice. I then describe the safeguards inherent in the oral lineage of Joan Shivarpita Harrigan. I document the practice of some adept yogins of the last century who retained a worldly orientation that was integrated with spiritual realization, contra Jung’s fear that yoga essentially teaches its adherents to abandon this world. Then I present details of the purification that precedes and attends Kundalini yoga practice, including the 8-limbed yoga of Patanjali. A discussion of the challenges of Kundalini rising follows. To place these initial subjects in context, I review the cultural history and practice of India’s sacred philosophy, focusing on the dualist traditions of Samkhya and yoga, and the non-dualist Advaita Vedanta. This is followed by a detailed discussion of the different types of Kundalini risings and their challenges for the practitioner. I review the source texts by Woodroffe and Zimmer that were consulted by
277 Jung and Hauer for the 1932 seminar. Because of the limited scope of this chapter in its attempt to survey highlights of India’s vast Kundalini teachings, I conclude the section on Kundalini proper by recommending texts for more in-depth study. Many of these were not available at the time Jung and Hauer conducted their seminar. I highlight the content of one such text by Gopi Krishna (1967) that offers a counter-example to Jung’s 1954 rejection of yogic omniscience, a position he later softened but never fully relinquished (Jung, 1955-1956/1963). The chapter concludes by noting the parallels between Tantric Hinduism, Tantric Buddhism, and Chinese Taoism.
278 Chapter 8 Findings Introduction The words of Paul Gauguin begin my discussion of soul in the chapter on subtle body. To reprise, Gauguin asks: “Where do we come from? What are we? Where are we going?” Those questions also organize this chapter. The first section briefly reviews the territory traversed in the first seven chapters. Next, I present the findings that flow from the dialog between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga in answer to my research questions. I proceed with suggestions for dissertations that might amplify this study, which is followed by a brief introduction to the scientific study of the human aura. This dissertation concludes with a discussion entitled “Toward a Human Energy Model.” A Brief Review The first chapter includes a literature review and chapter summary that introduces the major texts employed in a dialog between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga. It also presents five research questions to guide this dialog: 1. How does personal transformation guided by analytical psychology resemble or differ from personal transformation in Kundalini yoga? 2. What controversies have been raised by Jung’s commentaries and interpretations of Kundalini yoga texts? 3. How did these controversies arise from personal, cultural, and practice perspectives? 4. Can some of these controversies be settled? 5. What insights or wisdom does each of these disciplines contribute to the other?
279 Chapter 2 describes the methods used in this study. Given the current state of knowledge, I have chosen a qualitative method of dialogic hermeneutics to engage each of these two disciplines and conceptualize how they relate, differ, and inform each other. The hermeneutic method alerts me to remain aware of the cultural-historical settings of all texts considered and of my own worldview. I use secondary sources as well as primary ones because the opinions and contextual explanations of secondary authors help inform the dialog. This study is influenced by my personal experience and study of analytical psychology and Jung’s validation of the psychic reality of symbolic experience. It is also guided by the Kundalini yoga tradition of “scripture, oral tradition, individual guidance, expert training, case study, and direct spiritual experience” (Harrigan, 2000, p. 7). The practice methods of both traditions rely on individual guidance by experts. The experience of practitioners is a key focal point of this study. I would not be practicing sound hermeneutics if I did not consider the fact that although I have a partial Kundalini rising in a nonculminating nadi, I have not done traditional Kundalini yoga practice—nor am I an accredited, experienced Jungian analyst. Thus I consult experienced practitioners of both traditions. The cultural-historical philosophy of Jean Gebser (1949-1953/1985) is used to discern where rational and mystical traditions meet and how they can inform each other. Chapter 2 concludes with an experience-near description of the creative process I follow to bring to bear all possible consciousness modalities. Chapter 3 lays out the historical background and information presented in the 1932 Kundalini seminar that is the central text of this study. This chapter reorganizes the information presented by Jung and his collaborator, J. W. Hauer, bringing together the
280 key points made about each topic. This compilation of the material presented makes such material easier to examine than is possible in the original discursive format that includes frequent detours to respond to questions or explore related subjects. In this chapter I demonstrate that Jung employed Kundalini yoga symbolism to amplify his psychology. I also cover elements he discussed of India’s philosophical and metaphysical traditions. Several controversies emerged from Jung’s Kundalini yoga presentation here and his discussions of Eastern philosophy in other texts and seminars. Some of these controversies are identified and addressed in this chapter. Most are reserved for the next chapter. Chapter 4 provides additional context for the 1932 seminar by exploring Jung’s orientation toward Eastern spirituality. Jung maintained a distance from the traditional practices of Kundalini yoga and other Eastern disciplines because he believed that the psyches of Europeans and people of the East differ due to their disparate cultural histories. As a result, he issued many warnings that Westerners refrain from practicing Eastern spirituality. Some of his comments and warnings were controversial and motivated many reviewers to offer detailed critiques. Many of the major critiques are examined in this chapter. I also survey the philosophical differences between Jung’s psychology and the methods of personal transformation of yoga and related practices. I examine the reasons for Jung’s cautionary stance. I also highlight some of the positive assessments Jung made of Eastern spirituality compared to a European culture where spirituality is largely split off from science, technology, and critical philosophy. Chapter 5 is an extended exploration of Jung’s individuation construct. I present the early inceptions of that construct in Jung’s personal individuation process. I examine
281 the evolution of Jung’s ideas about individuation and define its constituent elements. On his quest, Jung rediscovered the esoteric wisdom teachings of Western Philosophical Alchemy. I discuss the basic elements of the alchemical opus and its relevance for psychology. I show that the symbolism of Western alchemy appears to offer a very close counterpart to the symbolism of Kundalini yoga. I also explore one of Jung’s discussions of the German mystic, Meister Eckhart, whose writing offers a conceptual bridge to the revealed wisdom of the Vedas. Chapter 6 provides further context for the subtle body idea with extended reference to the writings of Jean Gebser (1949-1953/1985), who presents ample evidence for an evolution of soul into various subtle body concepts. The same Gebser text also models the evolution of religions and argues for the simultaneous existence of human consciousness structures that emerge from an Ever-Present Origin. With that context established, I extend the discussion of Western alchemy as it was explored by Jung in his later years, when he softened his position about the incompatibility between Western critical thinking and the claims of unitary consciousness by Meister Eckhart and Eastern mystics. I conclude Chapter 6 by surveying some of the world’s spiritual traditions to show the similarity of their subtle body constructs, which implies their observation of common themes. I show, for example, the close resemblance between the symbolism of Kabbalah and that of Kundalini yoga. Chapter 7 presents a brief overview of Kundalini yoga and Indian philosophical traditions. The philosophical differences between some native Indian traditions are
282 echoed by Jung’s difficulty accepting the possibility of a human consciousness becoming identical with Brahman. Despite Jung’s philosophical disagreements and his frequent warnings, many in the West have taken up yoga practice. There are more and better translations available to contemporary practitioners. Many of the advanced teachers of these traditions now travel throughout the world enabled by better, less expensive air travel. As a result, we have much more case study material to draw from that demonstrates the real dangers and possibilities of such practices. I explore some of Jung’s objections and compare them with a contemporary understanding of yoga’s teachings, for example, the idea that the self-sense is not dissolved as Jung feared, nor does the yogin seek only escape from this world. In this regard, and to add a practice perspective, I describe the deepening levels of concentration in yoga practice that were not explored by Jung. I also present the Kundalini yoga practice perspective of a living oral transmission lineage and that lineage’s safeguards for guiding Kundalini rising. Next, I address other concepts covered in the 1932 seminar and the sources used by Jung and Hauer. I recommend texts written by yoga practitioners and scholars that were not available at that time and are valuable contributions to the field. The chapter concludes by pointing out the correspondences between Kundalini yoga symbols and practices and those of Tibetan Buddhism and Chinese acupuncture. In all, the dialog between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga is presented at a level of detail and grounded in philosophical and practice orientations sufficient to address the research questions of this study.
283 Findings of Similarity and Difference Immersion in the texts explored for this study and many years of related concerns have yielded some surprising findings. I did not expect to find, for instance, that analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga share the imagery of philosophical alchemy that appeared to emerge from Egypt and spread East and West. I also did not expect to find that advanced practitioners of both disciplines observe an absorption of lesser consciousness structures into more intensive ones. Harrigan points out that the Vedic teachings are older than Egyptian civilization (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, July 2, 2001). In this regard, I wonder whether any of the early Egyptian alchemists or their teachings came from India. This finding of corresponding symbolism and other observations are detailed in the following results, which are arranged in response to my research questions. The first question is: How does personal transformation guided by analytical psychology resemble or differ from personal transformation in Kundalini yoga? I begin by addressing the resemblance between these disciplines. Philosophical similarities. Both disciplines acknowledge the existence of a greater reality beyond ego and even beyond God. Kundalini yoga calls this greater reality Brahman, which, unlike the Godhead, has no attributes. Jung calls this reality the collective unconscious, which he considers unfathomable. His conception of the collective unconscious transcends the God-image, which he sees as a psychic content that can be empirically verified. He takes pains to assert no metaphysical claims about that image or its archetypal ground. He admonishes us to not worship the collective unconscious as God and thus give it too much power over us, in favor of retaining our
284 egos and relating as individuals to the unconscious and its numinous power. He sees the activation of the God-image as a guiding function that is essential for individuation. The activation of that image eventually resolves dependence on one’s analyst. (Jung, 1942/1966b, pp. 236-239). In another text Jung remarks that in this process of individuation the ego is set aside, but not dissolved. He states that this setting aside is not an act of will (Jung, 1950/1969b, p. 318). This statement supports the claim of Indian spirituality that one relinquishes attachment to the ego to open oneself to the Universal Mind that truly governs us. Jung never fully concurred with the belief of Advaita Vedanta that one can realize one’s identity with Brahman. His formulation resembles that of the Samkhya school of Indian philosophy that also rejects the idea of consciousness without a separate observer. My research also reveals that both Indian spirituality and analytical psychology recognize local, causal reality, and a transcendent, acausal reality. The transcendent reality of Kundalini yoga is discussed above as Brahman. Jung’s version of this transcendent, unknowable, archetypal source is the self. In both traditions, the local, causal reality is affected by the choices we make in the everyday world. The transcendent, acausal reality is affirmed in the Indian conception that contrasts it with mundane reality or maya, a relative state wherein one is subject to illusion and hypnotized by appearances. Jung’s corresponding recognition of an acausal realm is seen in his theories of synchronicity, and the psychoid nature of archetypes. As noted above, both traditions share the paradigm of alchemical transformation, including absorption of lesser states of consciousness into more intensive states. This is a well-documented element of Indian philosophy that finds its expression in layayoga. In
285 layayoga the ascent of Kundalini Shakti progressively absorbs the grosser elements into the more subtle elements. The culmination of this process is absorption of the adept’s consciousness into Brahman. I was surprised to discover that analytical psychology has observed a similar absorption of lesser consciousness structures, although I have not previously seen the observation stated as such. Individuation is said to progress in non-linear fashion, depending on the needs of the analysand. However, the process generally proceeds by first relinquishing one’s identification with one’s persona, the mask one presents to the social world. Then one relinquishes identification with one’s shadow, the anima/animus, and even the self. The working through of resistances to experiencing the activity of these archetypal components of personality opens one up to more direct experience of the self. Analytical psychology differs from some schools of Indian philosophy in asserting a goal of wholeness rather than seeking dissolution of consciousness in the Divine Ground. However, on his path to wholeness Jung eventually acknowledged the psychic reality of unitary consciousness across all cultures, despite the incompatibility of such consciousness and his theoretical formulation of an ego needed to experience being conscious. The distinction may well lie in whether ego is dissolved, or whether one no longer identifies with the ego, and thus is no longer driven by fear of death and attachment to pleasure to generate a continual stream of desires. Another finding is that both disciplines start with worldly symptoms and progress to an increasingly impersonal, archetypal transformation that involves a recognition and progressive embodiment of a transcendent, collective self.
286 Both disciplines issue warnings against identifying with archetypal contents. As noted immediately above, Indian spiritual traditions warn about the illusion of getting attached to any worldly phenomenon, including occult powers known as siddhis. Analytical psychology warns against identifying with archetypes to avert the risk of inflation or psychosis. Both disciplines respect and work with the temperament of the individual. Analytical psychology addresses one’s typology. This is reflected in Jungian analysts being trained to work with different psychological types (Sandner & Beebe, 1982). Kundalini yoga sees one’s typology reflected in the dominant or recessive nature of the gunas and adjusts one’s practice to the disciple’s tamasic, rajasic, or sattvic tendencies. Indian spirituality also addresses typology through different yoga practices, so that some people choose a path of adoring the divine in bhakti yoga, others pursue knowledge in jnana yoga, others through good works in karma yoga, and so on. Similarities of practice. Analytical psychology gets similar results to preparatory phases of yoga, as the first two limbs of ashtangayoga prescribe moral and self restraint. Both disciplines seek to counteract the fire of desirousness so that the practitioner gains the ability to observe desires and make informed rather than reflexive choices. In both disciplines, such choices emerge from and require commitment of the whole person. For example, analytical psychology takes into account the somatic unconscious and the psychic unconscious. Yoga disciplines body and mind and allows spiritual reality to shine through. Both disciplines have built-in safeguards. In analytical psychology, these include (a) containment of self-discovery and its numinous power within the transformational
287 vessel of the analytic relationship, (b) the careful selection, training, and certification of analysts, (c) the selection of analysands with sufficient ego-strength to withstand encounters with the unconscious, (d) a respectful attitude to unconscious compensation and guidance received in dreams and symbolic images, (e) primacy of experience over belief, and (f) reference to both personal experience and the world’s storehouse of myths and traditions. Kundalini yoga’s safeguards are detailed by Harrigan as follows: “to meet the criteria for being a source of valid knowledge, a direct personal experience and ensuing interpretation must be consistent with scripture, logic, and empirical evidence gathered over time” (Harrigan, 2000, p. 26). She notes that one needs sufficient advancement of Kundalini and guidance by an expert guru to grasp the twilight language of the scriptures. She adds that the qualifications to be a guru in a traditional oral lineage are extremely rigorous (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, May 7, 2001). Both disciplines also acknowledge the importance of heart-centered approach. Jung’s Kundalini seminar interpretation of the heart chakra sees the beginning of individuation as the discovery of the purusa in the heart symbolizing one’s “lifting himself above the emotional happenings and beholding them” (Jung, 1996, p. 39). In his memoirs, Jung acknowledges the power of love and sees love inherent in the Godhead (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 353-354). In a parallel observation, Spiegelman sees the somatic unconscious related to the lower chakras, the psychic unconscious related to the upper chakras, and the somatic and psychic unconscious meeting at the heart (Spiegelman (1996a, p. 195). Since the goal of analytical psychology is achieving wholeness, the integration of the somatic unconscious and the psychic unconscious is centered at the
288 heart. Similarly, Schwartz-Salant emphasizes a heart-centered approach to shared active imagination in the transference (Schwartz-Salant, 1998, p. 74). From the standpoint of yoga, Goswami (1999) sees the state of liberated consciousness in nirvikalpa samadhi as “superaffectionate.” One of the branches of yoga, bhakti yoga, employs the adoration of God as its practice. Another, karma yoga, focuses on service. The subtle anatomy of Kundalini yoga recognizes the heart center as related to “nurturance, compassion, and giving,” although people without an open anahata chakra can also manifest compassion (Harrigan, 2000, pp. 108-109; personal communication, July 2, 2001). The foundation practice of Tibetan Buddhism, a tantric tradition, includes meditation on Chenrazee, a Buddha of compassion. The image of that Buddha includes two arms holding a wish-fulfilling jewel over the heart. The meditation upon deities (devatas) is a practice of Kundalini yoga, whereby one utters a mantra that constellates a god or goddess. This devata is a living, archetypal symbol of a divine attribute. Both Kundalini yoga and analytical psychology employ symbols as part of their practice, although their methods differ, as discussed below. Both disciplines emerge from experiences that people worldwide have spontaneously, whether or not one is familiar the discipline. For example, yoga’s asanas may be spontaneously assumed by people undergoing Kundalini rising. The symbolism of alchemy appears spontaneously in people’s dreams and appears as well in both disciplines. An important element of any practice is the transmission of that practice. Both analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga are oral transmission lineages that rely on expert teachers who have achieved sufficient personal development.
289 Similar goals. Both disciplines can bring the aspirant closer to experiences of a transcendent reality. Both are also more likely to succeed if the aspirant is sufficiently talented. Jung saw individuation as the goal of a minority of people with sufficient education, intelligence, courage, stamina, moral character, and ego strength to withstand confrontations with the unconscious. The Kundalini yoga disciple requires sufficient physical health, faith, mental discernment, education in the scriptures, and moral discipline to succeed. Conversely, both disciplines risk a descent into madness if the enabling characteristics are insufficiently strong or if one is not guided by a qualified expert. Having presented these similarities of philosophy, practice, and goals, I now turn to the differences between these two disciplines. Differences of philosophy. Before citing specific differences of philosophy, I explore a difference in the age of these disciplines. As noted in Chapter 7, Kundalini yoga may well date back 7,000 years or longer. The philosophical grounding of Kundalini yoga includes ancient, medieval, and contemporary texts by many adepts. Analytical psychology paradoxically exemplifies both a contrast and a similarity to this antiquity as it draws upon all of the world’s available philosophical and spiritual traditions, including those of India. However, it is more reminiscent of a single school of Indian philosophy in that classical analytical psychology is guided by the insights and research of its founder, C. G. Jung, who assembled his findings in the late 19th and early to mid-20th centuries. In similar fashion to the evolution of other traditions of personal transformation, Jung’s psychology has itself developed several factions, or schools. These include the classical analytical psychology of C. G. Jung, a developmental school
290 influenced by psychoanalytic object relations theory, and an archetypal school that follows the theoretical and practice preferences of James Hillman (Samuels, 1985). The difference of school versus larger tradition just cited is not so definite, however, given the great variety of Indian spiritual traditions and the preserved insights of identified teachers and commentators. Another way to consider the differences of antiquity of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga is to think of the latter emerging from an uninterrupted succession of teachers hailing back to ancient India. Thus the collective source and empirical method of Kundalini yoga condenses the insights of many teachers into an archetypal clarity that is related to von Franz’s hypothesis that fairy tales are a distilled expression of the collective unconscious (von Franz, 1970/1996, p. 1). This uninterrupted antiquity ensures a relatedness between metaphysics and practice that contrasts with the situation in the West, where Jung attempted to reconcile the European split between Christian religious faith and the scientific worldview. In this attempt at reconciliation, another philosophical difference arises between these disciplines. Analytical psychology avoids metaphysical claims so it can be accepted as an empirically-based treatment by the medical community. That acceptance has not been entirely achieved, given contemporary pressures to control medical costs using brief therapy techniques whose temporary alleviation of symptoms have been validated in statistical studies but largely ignore the existence and influence of the personal and collective unconscious. Some contemporary Kundalini yoga practitioners recognize the emerging insights of scientific detection of the human aura in transition (see below) and parapsychological verification of some siddhis (Radin, 1997). A few recent and contemporary yoga philosophies are syncretic in addressing Western thinking and
291 society, for instance, the Integral Yoga of Sri Aurobindo Gose (1990). However, most Kundalini yoga teachers follow the practices of an ancient tradition whose faith is grounded in established metaphysical beliefs that pre-date scientific thinking. In line with its avoidance of metaphysical claims, analytical psychology concedes the possibility of reincarnation but certainly has no doctrine that attests to this (Jung, 1961/1989). Kundalini yoga posits this belief and bases its doctrine of karma on it. As discussed above, analytical psychology insists on retaining ego for dealing with unconscious contents!yet this may be a difference of interpretation from Kundalini yoga’s teaching to dissolve the self-sense (ahamkara) in the divine. According to Rob Neiss, a recent commentary by Ian Wicher states that an early verse from Patanjali’s Yoga Sutra is mistranslated to counsel the cessation of the thought waves of the mind rather than cessation of attachment to the thought waves of the mind (Rob Neiss, personal communication, June 9, 2001). Jung eventually acknowledges the psychic reality of unitary experiences without relinquishing his theoretical assertion that any consciousness needs a separately identified observer. This position of Jung’s and the Samkhya school’s dualistic approach within Indian philosophy are addressed especially in Chapter 7. Another difference between these disciplines is how they work with symbols. Yoga deals with symbols in a formulaic way, with each school specifying the symbolic material to visualize in meditation practice. In addition, during meditation, yoga practitioners do not work to analyze symbolic experience, but let it flow by, maintaining their concentrated focus of mind (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, October 21, 2000). In contrast, analytical psychology stresses a relationship with the collective
292 unconscious via living symbols that emerge spontaneously and autonomously. In active imagination and dreams, these symbols offer a means to transcend opposing tendencies. The shamanic forerunners of yoga probably interacted with symbolic visions in a similar fashion with the exception that so-called primitive peoples hypostasize symbols and are thus more likely to be possessed by archetypal forces. Differences in practice. Jung implies that there are fundamental differences between Kundalini yoga practice and individuation through analytical psychology in his repeated and strong warnings that Westerners not adopt yoga practices. Reasons for these warnings are covered below. The safeguards of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga have many similarities, as noted above. However, analytical psychology values personal experience over belief, whereas Kundalini yoga disavows interpretation of experience that does not find a counterpart in the scriptures or the oral tradition of the lineage. This difference is seen, especially, in Jung’s reliance on the guidance of his own personal and symbolic experiences and those of his patients over any traditional interpretation. I found a difference in the way that novices in each discipline select a teacher. Traditionally, a prospective disciple could observe a guru for as long as 12 years before requesting teachings and then place complete faith in that guru. Although that long observation period is no longer current, the yoga tradition still recommends putting faith in the guru. An analysand often starts with a complaint about some pathology that would have been worked through in preliminary yoga practices. Thus the prospective analysand may not have the sophistication or maturity of a disciple of yoga when selecting an analyst. Certainly, the prospective analysand does not wait 12 years before beginning the
293 work. Nor is the analysand ever required to place complete faith in the analyst. Rather, she or he learns to trust the symbolic commentary of the unconscious over that of any person. There is some similarity between these two disciplines here, because yogic disciples (chelas) worship and obey the divine nature of the guru, rather than the guru’s person (Feuerstein, 1998a, p. 94). Yoga practices focus more on physical elements, what we in the West would call “bio-energetic” methods, such as diet, ayurvedic supplements, pranayama, asanas, and mantras. Another way to put this is that analytical psychology, in general, primarily addresses the gross and subtle realms. Analysts including Spiegelman and Jung, himself, as we have previously seen, recommend additional approaches to the body as helpful, beyond analysis (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, June 13, 2001). Kundalini yoga addresses itself to sthula (gross), suksma (subtle), and para (supreme) realities, with more specific practices for achieving the supreme. It maps these realms to the human instrument and adjusts its practices by addressing the different koshas, or sheaths, of the human body, mind, and spirit. Spiegelman adds that practice of Jungian analysis can assist one in touching and reaching “the highest levels” of consciousness, “although this is not typical” (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, June 13, 2001). Then, of course, not nearly all who practice yoga reach the highest levels of consciousness, either! Since I am very far from having achieved jivanmukti myself, and have only deeply partaken of Jungian analysis, I must remain agnostic as to whether one or the other method is more promising for realizing an ultimate consciousness. Jung’s late statement of the empirical importance of experiences of the unus mundus regardless of any theoretical constraints at making such a claim underscores my intention to make it easier
294 for people using either or both disciplines to gain from the best practices of each (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 539). Similarly, psychological treatment generally addresses the first two limbs of ashtangayoga, those that work with actions and desires. The next two limbs, asana and pranayama, are not usually addressed in analytical psychology, with the exception noted in Chapter 4 that Jung adapted yogic breath control and postural methods for selected analysands and for himself (Jung, 1935, 1961/1989). The last four limbs of Patanjali’s ashtangayoga spell out practices of increasing concentration and detachment that are not adopted in analytical psychology. In fact, Jung generally opposes such practices for Westerners because he believes they too readily adopt spiritual pretensions to avoid facing themselves. The transmission practices of these disciplines differ substantially because of their differing metaphysical standpoints. Indian spirituality offers detailed practice rituals for the transmission of transcendent consciousness by the guru through various types of initiation and empowerment. In this sense, Indian spirituality makes more use of the magic consciousness structure (Gebser, 1949-1953/1985) than does analytical psychology, which acknowledges the mana personality but generally avoids employing mana for fear that the analyst will become inflated. Analytical psychology tends to eschew conscious initiatory rituals in favor of promoting psychological openness for transformation by the self without the mediation of a person. Such initiatory experiences may arise through the spontaneous emergence of unconscious material or major life events.
295 Similarly, there is usually a difference in style from the teaching of a guru versus that of an analyst. The analyst tends to minimize personal disclosures or didactic teaching in an attempt to allow unconscious material to emerge in the patient and the interactive field in relatively undistorted fashion. The guru, qualified through self-realization and study, may more directly guide the chela’s process through prescribed yogic practices, dietary changes, ayurvedic remedies, and scriptural readings in addition to face-to-face teaching. Controversies My second, third, and fourth research questions concern the controversies that arose from Jung’s teaching and commentaries about Kundalini yoga and Eastern spirituality in general. These questions are: 2. What controversies have been raised by Jung’s commentaries and interpretations of Kundalini yoga texts? 3. How did these controversies arise from personal, cultural, and practice perspectives? 4. Can some of these controversies be settled? I address these questions together as I take up each issue. In this section, I share findings that relate to the following general issues: 1. Jung resists the possibility of a human being attaining unitary consciousness. 2. Jung has been accused of holding European prejudices that distort his commentaries. 3. Jung’s warnings that Westerners not practice yoga are controversial in that they may unnecessarily steer people away from beneficial practices.
296 4. Jung’s hermeneutic methodology may have shortcomings for exploring Kundalini yoga and Eastern spirituality. 5. Jung’s teaching and writing styles are often confusing. 6. Jung has been accused of insufficiently understanding Kundalini yoga and Eastern spirituality. 7. Many commentators misunderstand Jung and thus offer flawed critiques. Each of these subjects is taken up below. Unitary consciousness. As noted above, Jung eventually softened his position that one cannot be simultaneously conscious and merged with Brahman. He acknowledges the overarching significance of the experience of merger with the divine over any formulation that says this is impossible, and acknowledges the psychic reality of this experience that is lauded by mystics through the ages. Thus he writes that the conjunction of the conscious with the unconscious as formulated by the philosophical alchemist, Gerhard Dorn, “is theoretically inconceivable, since a known quantity is combined with an unknown one; but in practice as many far-reaching changes of consciousness result from it as atomic physics has produced in classical physics” (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 539). A related controversy that arises in the 1932 Kundalini seminar is Jung’s scant interpretation of the ajna padma and his virtual dismissal of sahasrara. His avoidance of interpreting these power centers arises from his 1932 negation of the possibility of unitary consciousness. Many of Jung’s statements about the incompatibility of consciousness and divine merger are strongly asserted, as when he writes to Arwind Vasavada that I can say that my consciousness is the same as that of the self, but it is nothing but words, since there is not the slightest evidence that I participate more or further in
297 the self than my ego-consciousness reaches. What does the grain know of the whole mountain, although it is visibly a part of it? (Jung, Letter to Vasavada of 25 November 1954, cited in Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 192-193) Here, he appears to over-reach himself by claiming that there is “not the slightest evidence” of such consciousness despite the claims of adepts past and present. This assertion is especially noteworthy since he avoided meeting with Sri Ramana Maharshi during this journey to India. In this and other like assertions, I see the possibility that Jung was caught in the almost inescapable inflation of one who knows he realizes archetypal truths for his culture and is without a peer in his field. As such, Jung was impelled by inner guidance to ground his psychology primarily in Western philosophical alchemy. Thus he clings to the method and visions that bring his own best insights, that generally protect him and others from being flooded by unconscious contents, and preserves his choice of remaining related to physical reality. I admire Jung’s remaining open to experience and softening his position by 1956. Both his letter to Vasavada (Spiegelman & Vasavada, 1987, pp. 192-193) and his statement in his culminating work, Mysterium Coniunctionis (Jung, 1955-1956/1963), followed his heart attack of 1944 and an ensuing vision in which he saw himself being meditated by a yogin with his own face. While experiencing that vision he believed that when the yogin ceased his meditation, he, Jung, would cease to exist. However, he maintains his interpretative discipline by refusing to reify that thought (Jung, 1961/1989, pp. 323-325). I find Jung’s late words in his memoirs instructive, when he finds himself immersed in all manner of uncertainty and emotion. One possibility is that this uncertainty is an artifact of a mind deteriorating in advanced age. Another, more intriguing possibility is that Jung’s uncertainty offers evidence of the evolution of his
298 extraordinary consciousness toward relinquishing the dominance of his powerful thinking and intuitive functions in preparation for unitary consciousness. Similar dissolutions of mind are found in yogins who reach advanced stages of meditation without suffering ill health (Sri Ramana Maharshi, cited in Torwesten, 1985/1991, p. 60). This loosening of consciousness may also occur in many people as they realize, often unconsciously, that they will soon die. If reincarnation is a reality, that loosening of consciousness would precede a journey that Tibetan culture envisions as offering an outstanding opportunity to merge with the Divine Ground (Jung, 1953/1969). European prejudices. Jung’s resistance to the idea of unitary consciousness in favor of Kantian relativism is but one reason many critics see European prejudice as a reason Jung maintained a distance from Eastern spirituality. However, his many stereotypical statements about East/West differences in consciousness are the primary reason for this attribution of prejudice. The accusation of prejudice flows, in part, from Jung’s discussion of Eastern spirituality’s remaining rooted in what he called “primitive” consciousness. Without reading Jung’s 1931 essay entitled “Archaic Man,” and its discussion of the relativity of competing worldviews, one can easily attribute meanings of inferiority and superstition to the word, “primitive.” Jung’s attribution of primitiveness brings to mind the many overtly prejudiced statements of his contemporaries and forebears who believed that European technological culture and even the Caucasian race were superior to other cultures and peoples. His tendency to generalize about non-European cultures is also more typical of his time than it is today, with the West’s increased concern for anthropological precision
299 and its heightened awareness of the hazards of prejudice learned in the killing fields of the 20th century. Another reason for such attributions of European prejudice can be laid at Jung’s doorstep. I do not believe that he takes sufficient care to qualify his statements and thus put them in context. With these difficulties stated, Jung’s points are well-taken that pre-modern Indian philosophy tends to hypostasize and that the spiritual vision of India is, in general, more introverted than that of Europe. He is probably observing a general truth when he states that Indians have greater unity of body, mind, and spirit than Europeans, many of them unconsciously devaluing the body in favor of mind and spirit under the influence of Christianity and the Western tendency to objectify and subdivide one’s perceptions. His attributions of introversion and a lack of scientific sophistication to India must also derive from the poor economic and sanitary conditions he observed there, and the dysentery he contracted. Jung’s tendency to make strong assertions in tune with other authoritative commentators of his time162 may contribute to his overstating such observations and drawing criticisms of prejudice. To his credit, Jung does note that cultural tendencies are not genetic when he points out the pure European ancestry of a patient who was raised in an Eastern culture and experienced extensive Kundalini symbolism and symptoms(Hauer & Jung, 1996, pp. 102-104).
An example of such an authoritative person evincing cultural prejudice that I did not expect to find is Albert Schweitzer, who distinguished Eastern “world and life negation” from Western “world and life affirmation” (Schweitzer, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 21).
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300 Warnings. Another source of accusations of European prejudice is seen in the copious and strong warnings Jung issued to Westerners against practicing yoga. Many critics who practice India’s spiritual technologies and enjoy their benefits believe that Jung performed a disservice in steering people away from such beneficial practices. In Chapter 4, I find good reasons for such warnings in Jung’s observation that Westerners often avoid confronting themselves and seek panaceas instead. In contrast, Jung had discovered a method of personal transformation that is guided by one’s personal, symbolic experience, which confronts a person with their specific flaws and strengths. Given a Western disciple’s lack of immersion in the metaphysical worldview of Indian culture, and our tendency to seek panaceas, his doubts that Westerners have the selfdiscipline to wholeheartedly pursue yoga are probably justified in many cases. As noted above, Jung’s cautions derive from breath yoga casualties he had seen in his clinical practice. He is also correct in interpreting some classic yoga texts to formulate liberation as a kind of death to this world. Some of Jung’s warnings may be overstated due to the lack of practitioner knowledge on his part and those of his informed contemporaries. In this regard, he wrongly generalized that samadhi is a kind of yogic sleep,163 although he was prescient if not influenced by that master’s writings in noting the same issue observed by Sri Ramana Maharshi, who warned practitioners to avoid attachment to the apparent melting of the mind in advanced meditation. Instead, Maharshi counseled practitioners to continually
I do not refer here to yoganidra, which is an advanced yogic practice that yields mindful deep sleep (J. S. Harrigan and S. Chandrasekharanand Saraswati, personal communication, July 2, 2001).
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301 ask, “‘Who is it who experiences this silence?’” (Sri Ramana Maharshi, cited in Torwesten, 1985/1991, p. 60). In a world where is it much easier for both teachers and students to travel and communicate, in which much better translations of many Eastern spiritual texts can be easily obtained, Jung’s cautionary stance toward Eastern spirituality seems overly conservative. But this is an instance where hermeneutic principles inform us to remember that he lived in a world that lacked such ease of access. Confusing teaching and writing styles. Criticisms of cultural prejudice given above emerge, in part, from difficulties in understanding Jung’s writing and teaching. I state in Chapter 4 that Jung’s obscure, diverse, and extensive writing and teaching styles make it easy for some critics to come to premature or insufficiently supported conclusions. Some may be influenced to dismiss his work entirely. His discursive presentation in the 1932 Kundalini seminar is a good example of wandering among topics to respond to participants, making it difficult to grasp all that he said on any one subject. In that seminar he created another opportunity for confusion by metaphorically reversing the direction of Kundalini Shakti’s ascent to teach about East/West cultural differences. A thorough reading of the seminar notes reveals that he did eventually acknowledge the ascent of Kundalini Shakti (Jung, 1996, p. 66). Many of his texts present copious symbolic amplification that requires a lengthy and thorough reading to cull out and grasp the main points. Although he revised some works in his later years, some remain unchanged and are inconsistent with other texts or teachings. Jung was well aware of such inconsistency and wrote in his memoirs that he hastened to keep pace with his vision, which must offer a larger legacy of original insights than would have otherwise
302 been possible. His discursive style and reference to almost countless sources suggests that he did not write down to his audience, although at times, his inconsistent statements in lectures and letters may have aimed to influence people he knew to keep them on track. I wonder, for instance, whether he would have stated his warnings against yoga practice as strongly if he were not trying to steer the interests of some of those he was teaching. In this regard, some observers characterize Jung as a trickster in some of his teaching maneuvers (P. P. Coukoulis, personal communication, April 22, 2000). Hermeneutic methodology. J. J. Clarke (1994) offers a balanced review of Jung’s hermeneutic examination of Eastern thought. To address this issue, I summarize Clarke’s list of Gadamer’s essential insights about the hermeneutic discipline. According to Clarke, Gadamer states five main principles in his approach to hermeneutics: (a) “all thinking is historically embedded,” (b) “thinking presupposes a tradition in which the thinker participates,” (c) thinking always carries pre-judgments, which does not mean such judgments cannot be reflected upon, (d) “historical understanding involves a ‘fusion’ or ‘overlapping’ of horizons,” and (e) the hermeneutic circle is characterized by an iterative interplay among traditions, parts and the whole, a thinker and that thinker’s tradition (Clarke, 1994, p. 43). Clarke notes several potential hermeneutic difficulties in Jung’s interpretations. These include: 1. Translation difficulties: Some say it is impossible to translate from one language to another. I see this as only a matter of degree because not even a native reader of a language has an exact map of its meaning. Vaihinger amply demonstrates this assertion in his text, The Philosophy of “As-If,” where he states that all linguistic
303 representations are fictions, or approximations of reality (Vaihinger, 1924/1949). Another translation difficulty cited by Clarke is the inadequacy of some of the translated texts available to Jung. I note in Chapter 4, for instance, Cleary’s observation that the version of The Secret of the Golden Flower available to Jung was neither the original text in its entirety nor was it adequately translated (Cleary, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 170). 2. Another problem with Jung’s hermeneutics cited by Clarke is the unavoidable difficulty of that enterprise. In this regard, Clarke writes: Getting to know another culture or the texts from a distant tradition, like getting to know another human person, takes time, and the process of overcoming difference is for Jung, as for Gadamer, a task that encounters serious difficulties and requires considerable resources of patience and courage. Dialogue, whether with one’s own unconscious, with a schizophrenic patient, or with the I Ching, is … no fireside chat, no comfortable meeting of mutually compatible minds, but an encounter from which there is not necessarily a fully satisfying outcome. (Clarke, 1994, p. 53) 3. Perhaps the most trenchant critique Clarke issues about Jung’s hermeneutics is Jung’s over-reliance upon drawing analogies. This is the same method Jung often uses to amplify symbolic material. Clarke says that the use of analogy is not unusual in a hermeneutic project, but adds that, “the drawing of analogies is a notoriously inexact science which, at its worst, is capable of delivering any desired conclusion whatsoever” (Clarke, 1994, pp. 167-168). Neither he nor I accuse Jung of being so careless in drawing conclusions. However, I agree that the over-use of analogy is an inadequate method for penetrating to the archetypal roots of an issue. To succeed in such an endeavor, more care must be taken to ground one’s conclusions in historical and practice perspectives. 4. Clarke notes that Jung is frequently criticized for interpreting Kundalini yoga to amplify his psychology, not explain it in its own right. I do not see this as a fault. Jung admitted this was his purpose in approaching Kundalini yoga symbolism. He admitted his
304 lack of expertise in Kundalini yoga and was humble in refraining from any claims of an authoritative interpretation (Clarke, 1994, p. 168; Jung, 1996). Jung can be criticized for not being sufficiently open, within Gadamer’s framework, to being challenged by yogic texts. In light of his focus on developing a Western psychology based on his own methods, this shortcoming can be attributed to a lack of time to focus the attention needed to be challenged in that way. Also, Jung may have wanted to find additional historical grounding for his psychology, which he discovered in Western philosophical alchemy. Before absorbing that material, he was more resistant to the Indian claim of non-dual consciousness than he was late in life. This may be a reason he issued a warning to his 1932 Kundalini seminar participants that Kundalini yoga symbolism is a foreign body in the European psyche (Jung, 1996, p. 14). Insufficient understanding of Indian spirituality. Given his Western focus and his admitted lack of expertise, do Jung’s commentaries suffer from an inadequate understanding of Indian spirituality? Although he did practice yoga to calm himself during his 1913-1917 descent, Jung consciously avoided the yogic attempt to dissociate from perceptions and preconceptions in order to merge with Brahman. He also lacked ongoing guidance by an outer guru adept in Indian spirituality. These limitations add up to the lack of a practitioner perspective that sometimes leads Jung to misstate or misunderstand Eastern spiritual ideas. I list some examples below. Gopi Krishna writes that Jung misinterprets the symbolic passage in a Vedic text of rubbing two sticks together as an example of male conjoining with female, stating instead that this symbolism refers to lighting the fire of Kundalini Shakti (Krishna quoted in Shamdasani, 1996, p. xix).
305 During the 1932 Kundalini seminar, Hauer asserts, with Jung present, that Kundalini rising only occurs after all eight limbs of Patanjali’s yoga are completed. Jung does not correct this error (Jung, 1996, p. 84). In the same seminar, Hauer states that almost no one in the West experiences Kundalini rising. He asserts, erroneously, that maybe such risings in the West will occur more frequently after the passage of a thousand years. Jung is present but does not challenge these errors that would be obvious to someone more familiar with the subject as it is discussed by accomplished practitioners (Jung, 1996, p. 95; Harrigan, 2000). Spiegelman expresses doubt about whether the previous two paragraphs offer firm evidence of Jung’s lack of knowledge, writing that “Hauer was the expert; I would imagine that Jung would politely refrain from treading on that, whether he knew better or not” (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, June 13, 2001). I agree with his observation that Jung’s not correcting Hauer on these points is not conclusive for asserting Jung’s lack of knowledge. However, the seminar’s collegial atmosphere did not preclude disagreement. Jung disagreed with Hauer’s interpretation of a three-sided figure in the manipura pictogram as symbolizing an alchemical vessel rather than a swastika because he had never seen a swastika with only three sides (Jung, 1996, p. 43). Also, my review of the original version of the 1932 Kundalini seminar notes revealed that Heinrich Zimmer attended and disputed Hauer’s interpretation of another point (Jung, 1933). I note in Chapter 5 that Jung incorrectly equates yogic bliss, ananda, with the carefree happiness of childhood (Jung, 1920/1971, p. 249). Clarke faults Jung for stating that the East has no critical philosophy and cites an Indian philosopher to the contrary (Matilal, cited in Clarke, 1994, p. 162). Surveys of
306 Indian literature by Bhattacharyya (1999) and Feuerstein (1998b) contradict this erroneous assertion by Jung, which is very strongly stated as follows: “Critical philosophy, the mother of modern psychology, is as foreign to the East as to medieval Europe” (Jung, 1954/1969a, p. 475). Jung stereotypes Indian gurus by asserting that they are of a uniform type when he gives his reasons for avoiding a visit with Sri Ramana Maharshi (Jung, 1944/1969, p. 577). This is another strong statement that either demonstrates his lack of awareness or evinces an angry response toward people like Zimmer, who criticized that refused meeting. Perhaps his generalization is an artifact of seeing through the lens of his mana personality construct, conceiving Indian gurus as mana personalities, people who are possessed by the hero archetype (Jung, 1952/1956, p. 392). I close this section by noting that many people underestimate Jung’s scholarship and erudition, including many instances that I cite in Chapter 3 where he offers correct interpretations of Indian spiritual concepts. Many critics misunderstand Jung. My research yields ample evidence that Jung does not deserve the quantity or intensity of criticism he often receives. Critics often misunderstand Jung as a result of (a) not being sufficiently familiar with his writing and teaching and thus misinterpreting his terminology, (b) failing in their own hermeneutic discipline by ignoring the evolution of Jung’s theories and commentaries, and, in a few cases, (c) having an axe to grind. I document these points more fully in Chapter 4, where I present a detailed review of critics and commentators. The failure to appreciate the evolution of Jung’s thought is especially common and can be attributed partly to his sometimes confusing and often verbose writing style.
307 Before I address my fifth research question, I reiterate the paragraph quoted from Clarke, above, to the effect that hermeneutic studies of texts from other cultures are extremely difficult and are likely to yield results that are not fully satisfying. However, I find that in the balance, Jung’s far-ranging studies of Eastern texts raised important questions and introduced many Westerners for the first time to the noble spiritual traditions of the East. Insights Analytical Psychology and Kundalini Yoga Offer Each Other My final research question asks about the insights or wisdom that analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga offer each other. I once again organize my findings in terms of the philosophy, practice perspective, and goals of each discipline. Many of these insights remind people of neglected aspects of their chosen tradition. Jung’s philosophical offerings to Indian spirituality. Jung’s philosophical offerings to Indian spirituality include: (a) a mapping out of the unconscious in a different way than is done in India, (b) his appreciation of the scientific method within its appropriate domain, (c) making the subtle realm the focus of scientific scrutiny, (d) a precision of language influenced by the philosophy of Immanuel Kant, and (e) offering a secular entry point to spiritual life (J. S. Harrigan, personal communication, July 2, 2001). Jung welcomes scientific validation, yet he is not constrained by what science cannot measure or prove. He correctly notes that most classic Indian spiritual texts predate the existence or awareness of Western scientific thinking, and that some contemporary yoga practitioners are guided by metaphysical hypostases of those ancient texts. His theories of synchronicity and the psychoid unconscious invite scientific
308 correlation of psychological and spiritual phenomena. His Kantian approach to psychic reality combined with a respect for the methods and language of science can assist some practitioners of Indian spirituality in moving beyond a conservative adherence to tradition, helping them separate demonstrable phenomena from myth, symbol, and metaphor. His Kantian perspective also enables people to grapple with the psychological reality of spiritual experiences without their needing to adopt a metaphysical belief system. Jung’s unique map of the unconscious appreciates all aspects of existence, as does much of Indian philosophy. Yet, his approach of valuing the pneumatic and somatic aspects of soul can offer balance to the tendency of some Indian practitioners to discard pieces of being human and avoid directly addressing sufferings in this world. In this sense, Jung’s approach discovers purpose in pathology, revealing the innocent roots of suffering and thus offering face-to-face teaching and an entry point for people some gurus might consider quite stuck or unprepared. Analytical psychology embraces all aspects of life and all spiritual traditions so that the symbolism of other cultures can inform one’s preferred psychological or spiritual discipline. A similar trend is found in much of Indian spirituality, although those identifying with different Indian religions may use differences in religious belief as an excuse for even violent conflict—a tragic story repeated throughout human history. Jung’s ecumenism avoids such conflicts and has been carried forward by many. Analytical psychology’s offerings to yoga practice. The path to yogic liberation only truly begins after an initial period of extensive preliminary practices. Analytical psychology offers an earlier entry point to spiritual development. Because it does not
309 reject pathology but embraces it, Jungian analysis or psychotherapy can enable someone to set foot on the path from a starting point of frank psychopathology or addiction. In this sense, it directly addresses those with a predominance of rajasic and tamasic temperaments. It offers a way to develop faith for those who have lost or not yet found it. This path opens up as one recognizes the personal relevance of dreams, synchronicities, and honest relatedness. As a practical as well as philosophical approach, blind faith in precedent or a guru empowers practice with affective intensity at the cost of limiting opportunities for discovery. Analytical psychology encourages openness, moral dedication, curiosity, and mutuality of relationship, not blind faith. Blind faith in the guru risks abuses of disciples, misses opportunities for relational learning, and may deprive the guru from growth, even if liberated. A counter-example is found in a recent radio report of a statement made by His Holiness, the Dalai Lama XIV of Tibet. When visiting the San Francisco area in May, 2001, the Dalai Lama is said to have stated he is learning from ordinary people who are dedicating their lives to service (H. H. Dalai Lama XIV, quoted by KCBS, 2001). Jung’s emphasis on facing oneself with the help of one’s analyst and the symbolic feedback gleaned through the transcendent function can help yoga practitioners stay grounded by not allowing them to run from themselves. This attitude of not losing one’s self-awareness in practice is also condoned by Sri Ramana Maharshi, as noted above. Participation in Jungian analysis and in self analysis through the interpretation of symbolic experiences can help one clear obstructions to greater awareness before Kundalini Shakti reaches the upper ajna padma and precipitates the psychological
310 unloading process that is part of the renovation and restoration phase described by Harrigan (2000). The oral transmission approach of analytical psychology can be more personally focused than that of traditional Kundalini yoga because both analyst and analysand explore symbolic experiences reflecting activity of the self and archetypes in the daily life of the analysand. This is another reason why people at an earlier stage of development can find their way to a spiritual path than they can in traditional Kundalini yoga. The Kundalini process guidance offered by Joan Shivarpita Harrigan and her guru Swami Chandrasekharanand Saraswati is the yogic equivalent of such a personal approach in that they counsel people of all spiritual traditions and do not require extensive preparation or study of traditional texts. Analytical psychology’s insight about the goals of yoga practice. Analytical psychology invites yoga practitioners to question what may be a frequent misunderstanding of the goals of yoga. This misunderstanding may derive from a misinterpretation of Patanjali that is cited earlier in this chapter. If the goal of yoga is seen as relinquishing attachment to the thoughtwaves of the mind rather than relinquishing the thoughtwaves themselves, the yogin can seek to achieve an inner peace that remains joyfully open to lived experience. Seen in this light, the goal of nirvikalpa samadhi is not escape from this world of suffering nor of yoga sleep, but is an opening to full aliveness without being distracted by illusions or attachments. An opening to a similar state was apparently achieved by Jean Gebser, when he experienced the breakthrough of satori (Feuerstein, 1995).
311 I now turn to the insights and wisdom that Kundalini yoga and India’s sacred texts can offer to analytical psychology. Kundalini yoga’s philosophical offerings to analytical psychology. Kundalini yoga draws upon a vast store of scriptures. Someone approaching personal transformation from a relatively mundane worldview can find some of their personal narrative in India’s spiritual literature, folktales, and philosophical discourses. As numinous awareness begins to shine through, that narrative can help contain the wanderings of the discursive mind. For analysts aware of subtle body phenomena, India’s spiritual texts offer valuable hints and guidelines for subtle body transformation. Kundalini yoga’s insights for the practice of analytical psychology. The ashtangayoga of Patanjali and similar yogic phases of development described by other rishis offer comprehensive maps of what people can do to achieve personal transformation and intensive states of consciousness (Goswami, 1999). For the fortunate few, the experience of what is perceived as unitary consciousness in Kundalini yoga is a spiritual component of personal transformation that is beyond the reach of any psychology. This is an area that the methods of analytical psychology can approach but not adopt if that discipline is to remain a psychology. Jung endorsed yoga as a physical method of hygiene (Jung, 1969d, p. 535). If one extends this concept, Kundalini yoga offers ways to diagnose and stabilize the body-mind that are largely invisible to the methods of analytical psychology. This is seen especially in the practice tradition described by Joan Harrigan, which assesses the type of Kundalini rising a person is experiencing, and the interacting conditions of different aspects of one’s being. The type of rising, its enhancement, and the treatment of side effects are
312 accomplished through expertly guided asana, pranayama, meditation, dietary changes, and ayurvedic remedies. Jung only began to touch upon addressing the physical elements of personal transformation and their subtle body interface. Kundalini yoga also offers vastly more extensive knowledge about the biophysical changes experienced in advanced spiritual development. Such knowledge is of diagnostic utility and can suggest treatments that are unknown in traditional Western medicine or psychology. In similar fashion, Kundalini yoga adepts are aware of subtle dimensions of transmission that are unknown in the West. Such awareness depends upon the specific yogic achievements of the guru that allow different types of initiation and guidance. Compatibility of goals. Yoga offers a spiritual and bio-physical technology for relativizing the ego. This technology does not obliterate a functioning ego if the teacher guides the aspirant to remain self-aware. Many traditional yoga schools warn against an overly rigid asceticism to escape life’s sufferings and paradoxes, avoiding the overvaluation of the pneumatic person that Jung feared (Feuerstein, 1998a; Jung, 1944/1969, pp. 583-584; Torwesten, 1985/1991). Summary of Research Findings The dialog I have conducted between analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga reveals that each discipline validates the other and offers its characteristic wisdom. Jung’s writing reflects this when he states more than once that he prefers neither East nor West. He simply counsels people to remain connected to their personal path. I agree with Jung’s caveat to not adopt any foreign spirituality as a panacea and an excuse to avoid facing oneself. I also acknowledge the importance of being as aware as possible of the influence
313 of one’s original culture. However, I disagree with Jung’s conservative recommendation that people of each culture and religion remain true to their roots and fully explore their native traditions. I fear that his suggestion may obstruct the development of one’s relationship with the collective unconscious. I believe that this relationship may be facilitated rather than hampered by the serious exploration and practice of foreign spiritual traditions that may be better suited to one’s character than one’s native tradition. This view is supported by Lionel Corbett, a Jungian analyst, who notes the advantage of discovering a religion that is compatible with one’s whole being. In his Pacifica Graduate Institute lecture of September 29, 1996, Corbett stated that one needs to resonate with the myth of a religion. To illustrate this, he offered the example that “if you are psychologically Christian, the story of Jesus has resonance for you. If you don’t connect, it’s like you love somebody and can’t reach them” (Corbett, 1996). The discovery of a spiritual practice that is personally suitable is also supported by Harrigan’s teaching that one connects with one’s inner lineage by the time one achieves an advanced Kundalini rising (Harrigan, 2000). To facilitate the philosophical openness needed to recognize and respond to such a discovery, I recommend another alternative to Jung’s casting Western and Eastern spiritualities as opposites. I suggest instead that one can hold Indian and European worldviews as possible alternatives, allowing the transcendent function to mediate these opposites. To extend this recommendation as a Gebserian synairesis of more than two, I believe that a person can benefit from the insights of many spiritual traditions. The only caveat I offer here is not to become so enamored of gathering data that one fails to persevere sufficiently in a practice.
314 As I state in Chapter 4, as an American of Jewish ancestry, my desire for developing a yoga for the West differs from Jung’s. I believe that we need to integrate Christian influence, and not use it as the primary basis for Western spiritual practice. I am also more open to adopting practices of the original yoga of India or its Eastern counterparts under expert guidance. Some yogic teachings lack psychological sophistication, whereas psychology can benefit from the spiritual profundity of yogic texts and the numinous presence of its adept teachers. My experience as an analysand and student therapist informs me that analytical psychology is as an oral transmission lineage that reconnects the Western psyche with the Divine Ground. My experience of H. H. Gyalwa Karmapa XVI affirms the numinosity and love of that tradition, as does my experience of the Christian psychic and healer, Rev. Dr. Patrick Young. It is probably no coincidence that my spiritual awakening was simultaneously guided by living saints of Eastern and Western traditions. I prefer the term Divine Ground to Jung’s primitive matrix because although It encompasses the primitive, It cannot be reduced to a regression. I believe that the paths of analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga both arrive, ultimately, at greatly intensified consciousness of the fundamental essence of life. Spiegelman notes and I agree that Jung’s path is individual and personal, leading to the archetypal (J. M. Spiegelman, personal communication, June 13, 2001). Even given open relatedness to the collective unconscious, a person’s path remains individual and selfaware as a result of the safeguards built into analytical psychology. This is a unique and important contribution to previous traditions that often emphasize faith at the expense of consciousness.
315 However, I believe that Jung’s observation is on point when he writes: “in practice as many far-reaching changes of consciousness result from [the unus mundus experience] as atomic physics has produced in classical physics (Jung, 1955-1956/1963, p. 539). In this sense, I believe that analytical psychology, Kundalini yoga, Christianity, Buddhism, Islam, Judaism, Shamanism, and other traditions all seek the Divine Ground of being—even if analytical psychology must avoid metaphysical assertions in a Western culture where the realities of science and spirituality remain split for many. All of these paths offer opportunities for realizing the self in psychological terms, or for selfrealization in spiritual terms. Future Directions Western science has not ignored the claims of the world’s mystics, nor the spiritual experiences that seem anomalous to a logical-positivist conception of existence. Jung was a pioneer in seeing beyond that limited worldview. He met and was influenced by Albert Einstein. He had a lengthy and close collaboration with Wolfgang Pauli and thus became familiar with some of the basic concepts of quantum mechanics (Jung, 19731975, 1961/1989, 1996). Jung also corresponded with the ground-breaking parapsychologist, J. B. Rhine (Jung, 1973-1975, 1952/1960). Jung reflected the influence of these other pioneers in developing his concepts of synchronicity and the psychoid nature of archetypes. While doing the initial research for this study, I came across a number of researchers who extend the work of Pauli and Rhine and confirm psychological changes in the subtle body. My survey remains incomplete because this study demanded a
316 disciplined focus on analytical psychology and Eastern spirituality. However, I briefly review what I found to suggest directions of future research for myself and others. Dean Radin (1997) recently published a review of parapsychological research in which he uses the discipline of statistical meta-analysis to demonstrate overwhelming verification of telepathy, clairvoyance, distant viewing, precognition, and psychokinesis. He also offers an excellent review of the tactics of skeptics who strenuously deny the reality of anomalous phenomena and the promoters of a new paradigm that threaten their worldview. Detecting and measuring the human aura. My early research uncovered several researchers who use their own methods to detect and measure the human aura and its transformations. Such measurements can only take place in the subtle realm of bioenergy that exists within the time/space continuum. Research results point to a transcendent, acausal reality, like a Zen roshi who, when asked about satori, points to the moon. Valerie Hunt earned advanced degrees in psychology and physiology at Columbia University, where she has been a professor, a position she also held at the University of Iowa, and the University of California at Los Angeles (Hunt, 1996). Hunt also had a neardeath experience, which awakened her interest in measuring the human energy field and its transformations. Her book, Infinite Mind: Science of the Human Vibrations of Consciousness, documents her measurements of the human aura, its transformations during psychological change and when exposed to strong magnetic fields. She has also correlated her findings with the readings of a panel of experienced clairvoyants who intuitively see the human aura. Her method includes placing electrodes on the skin at
317 acupoints that correspond with the major chakras. She learned to sense and measure the activity of those chakras when she discovered their frequencies, which match clairvoyants’ intuitions that upper chakras vibrate at progressively higher frequencies than lower ones. Hunt also proposes a mathematical model, using chaos theory, for transformations that occur in the human energy field. Hiroshi Motoyama holds doctorates in psychology and philosophy. He is an advanced practitioner of Kundalini yoga and the founder of the California Institute for Human Science, which is located in Encinitas, California. He is the author of over 30 books. I obtained his book, Theories of the Chakras: Bridge to Higher Consciousness, and find that most of it presents an excellent summary of comparative chakra teachings and traditional Kundalini yoga practice (Motoyama, 1981). The final chapter offers an intriguing introduction to instruments he has developed to measure the activity of the acupuncture meridians and chakras. In that chapter, he briefly shares findings that confirm correlations between the meridians and organs. His chakra measurements employ multiple, coordinated instrumental modalities by detecting minute electrical, magnetic, and optical expressions of energy. His findings include an observation that people with more active chakras are more susceptible to disease, which he correlates with a progression toward voluntary control of the chakras (pp. 261-267). He relates types of psi ability to corresponding chakras and correlates this finding with the activity of corresponding acupuncture meridians (p. 268). Motoyama also finds that people can experience extra-sensory perception abilities of telepathy, clairvoyance, and psychometry via certain awakened chakras. However, the heart chakra must be awakened to enable strong psychokinetic and psychic healing abilities (p. 269). He notes that an awakened
318 heart chakra can, however, result in greater frequency of cardiac arrhythmias (p. 271). He instrumentally verifies the subjective experience of a meditator that a chakra is emitting energy. This verification includes photoelectric detection of emissions of light and electrode detection of electric current (pp. 274-278). This is an early book that introduces what must be a large body of research conducted by Motoyama and the students and colleagues at his research institute and school. Beverly Rubik, a biophysicist who earned her doctorate at University of California, Berkeley, has obtained results similar to Motoyama’s, measuring substantially larger emissions of light from the auras of advanced meditators than from normal subjects (personal communication, 1999). Rubik heads the Institute for Frontier Science. She recently sponsored a visit to San Francisco by Konstantin Korotkov to demonstrate his computerized Kirlian diagnostic imaging technology. She was subsequently featured on the ABC network’s Good Morning America program, where she used Korotkov’s machine to accurately diagnose a previously undisclosed underactive thyroid condition of ABC’s science editor, Michael Guillan. During that program, Guillan mentioned that the United States government’s National Institutes of Health is funding research on human biofields, the scientific term for human auras (Guillan, 2000). Konstantin Korotkov’s business card lists a variety of credentials from a career in parapsychological research that began in the Soviet Union and continues at Russia’s Saint Petersburg Federal Technical University. His recent book, Aura and Consciousness: New Stage of Scientific Understanding, offers a detailed description of his Kirlian imaging technology and the scientific knowledge he has gathered about various methods of detecting and measuring the human aura. It is full of scientific and engineering details
319 and offers many correlations that have been made between his instrumental measurements, human health, and psychological conditions. Korotkov’s instrumentation is commercially available at a relatively modest cost. My research also uncovered a highly technical online article detailing a theory by Stuart Hameroff and Roger Penrose about microtubules in brain tissue that may more satisfactorily account for computations perceived as consciousness than previous computer-like theories of brain function. This article offers the hypothesis that our consciousness is capable of perceiving quantum events. From these brief and basic ideas I infer that the microtubules discussed in the article may be the mechanism whereby our physical brains in this time/space continuum interact with the acausal, synchronistic, intelligent, and autonomous Divine Ground of existence (Hameroff & Penrose, 1998). The initial research I conducted on the current scientific and parapsychological approaches to detecting and measuring transformations in the human subtle body suggest as the topic of a dissertation the attempted correlation of psychological transformation with instrumental scientific subtle body findings. Other possible dissertation topics. While writing my dissertation and reviewing my findings, I thought about several other potential dissertation topics. These include: (a) an exploration of the ongoing dialog about Ken Wilber’s “pre-trans fallacy” and its implications for analytical psychology, (b) a study to discover whether Western alchemical treatises suggest practices that resemble those found in yoga, (c) an expansion of the subtle body exploration across different spiritual traditions that I conducted in Chapter 6 and a correlation of that exploration with analytical psychology, (d) a similar comparison between the world’s subtle body traditions compared to the projective
320 phenomena of psychoanalysis, and (e) a study of the theme of the descent of the divine into manifestation, and the reflection of this descent in personal transformation, especially a regression in service of transcendence (Washburn, 1994). Toward a Subtle Energy Model of Psychological Transformation In 1996, Dr. Spiegelman delivered a lecture at Pacifica Graduate Institute that catalyzed the integration of psychological and spiritual ideas addressed in this dissertation (Spiegelman, 1996b). At that time I first committed to paper thoughts I had been unconsciously incubating for 20 years about the nature of psychological transformation in an individual’s subtle body (Seeman, 1996). I wanted to explore the psychological bedrock found in analytical psychology and Kundalini yoga. I also wanted to explore and compare the ways each of these disciplines achieve advanced subtle body transformation. The material that follows is an adaptation and updating of my initial modeling of subtle body transformation. This closing section is intended to serve as the starting point for a more in-depth study. By 1980, I had already intuitively conceived of the human aura vibrating at an increasingly higher frequency as one moves up the body. I later integrated this idea with the cross-cultural phenomenon Jung reports in the 1932 Kundalini seminar that different categories of experience relate to different zones of the body. Corresponding anecdotal and case study observations of such experiential zones have been compiled within Reichian therapy (Spiegelman, 1992), oral transmission teachings of Kundalini yoga (Harrigan, 2000), and the tree of life symbolism of Kabbalah (Halevi, 1979), as noted in
321 Chapter 6. Other subtle body traditions like acupuncture also have emotional findings that probably correlate with the traditions just listed (Raheem, 1984). Another component of my working energy model is Schwartz-Salant’s observation that in the realm of imaginal sensing, each complex “has a body” (SchwartzSalant, 1989, p. 135). Jung notes that complexes are bipolar and affectively toned, with an archetypal core (Jung, 1948/1960). These observations of Jung and Schwartz-Salant suggest that in some way, complexes as subtle body phenomena may be conceptualized as electro-magnetic fields with positive and negative poles. They entrain (sympathetically vibrate) with archetypal affects and dramas encoded in the collective unconscious and are held in the aura of a person who has an attraction, aversion, or both to such characteristic myths and affects as seen in the major archetypes identified by Jung. Such archetypes include the Great Mother, the Wise Old Man, the anima/animus, shadow, and so on, and the gods and goddesses who have personified such affects and myths throughout human history. The locations in the aura of these complexes correspond with their frequency of vibration, and thus certain myths and complexes are repeatedly found to correlate with specific chakras, or horizontal zones of the body. Thus, primitive, infantile states that typify the earliest issues of attachment, abandonment anxiety, and the earliest forms of identity as a separate body, for instance, are found at muladhara. Attachments and aversions related to later developmental issues constellate complexes higher up in the body. For instance, the development of empathy builds such energy formations in the vicinity of the heart chakra. A complex may not be simply related to one chakra. Components that accrue from early to later experiences may be encoded at different frequencies that are progressively constellated as cognitive, affective, and somatic
322 components of memory are recovered. Thus, through lived experience and variations in one’s physical health, we arrive at the arrangement of energetic patterns seen by clairvoyants and measured by frontier scientists. Such energetic patterns represent our adaptations to the world, not all of which are defensive. The earliest stages of psychological development involve the integration or defensive splitting in one’s bodily identity and body image. Schwartz-Salant has imaginally observed splits in the ego as splits in the interactive field that correspond with psychopathological states. For example, a horizontal split is characteristic of repression as typified in a mind/body or thinking/feeling split. A vertical split suggests dissociation (Schwartz-Salant, 1995a, p. 23). My training in imaginal perception predisposes me to perceive such splits in the individual’s subtle body instead of looking for it in the interactive field (Stevens & Stevens, 1979-1981). My experience in that training was that other people capable of imaginal perception, which involves stimulation of the ajna chakra at a subtle level, perceive similar subtle energy formations and colors that suggest specific affects when focusing such perception on the same individual. When a person focuses imaginal perception and visualizes a flow of subtle energy to stimulate a chakra, this progressively constellates the complexes in the vicinity of that chakra. I believe that such constellation is an electromagnetic phenomenon produced by reaching a threshold of intensity at the relevant vibrational frequency. Another way to constellate a complex is the remembering of early, affectively toned experiences during the uncovering phases of psychotherapy. Yet another way such complexes are
323 constellated is when a dream induces a symbolic experience with corresponding affect.164 Other familiar means of constellation occur if two people fall in love, if they have a relationship characterized by intense enmity, or if the field or complex of one person entrains with those of another to become active in what is experienced as an easy chemistry or an inexplicable relational misfit. Whatever the source of activation, the crucial element required for psychological transformation is that one relives the affect (Sandner & Beebe, 1982). If this occurs, a person usually becomes aware, initially, of one pole of the complex. When that pole is fully constellated, or energized, one can suddenly experience the opposite pole of affect and the opposite role in an archetypal drama. This is the phenomenon Jung identified as enantiodromia, a sudden reversal of affect and role, and is also the subtle energy counterpart of the Kleinian splitting defense encoded during early childhood or later traumatic experiences. When the person becomes increasingly able to stand the affective intensity of each side of the complex, the transcendent function comes into play. The powerful affects and dramas related to either side, their pranic intensity, entrain with an archetype that both integrates and transcends the opposition by constellating a reconciling symbol. Here, Jung’s alchemical insights come into play. The working through of such polarized complexes in Jungian analysis is characterized by the symbolic progression mapped by the Axiom of Maria Prophetissa. Other complexes that embody a
The source of such dreams or synchronistic experiences that may have a similar constellating effect may be collective or individual. Activation of complexes and synchronicities in this way corresponds with the Indian doctrine of karma, the law of cause and effect.
164
324 simultaneously intense attraction and aversion are worked through in the symbolic manner mapped by the Axiom of Ostanes (Schwartz-Salant, 1989, 1995a, 1998). The characteristics of such transformations may be observable using the instrumental techniques of Hunt, Motoyama, Korotkov, and others. In any case, the mathematics of measuring such transformations may be encoded, as Hunt suggests, as chaotic attractors. As an individual works through such psychological complexes through psychotherapy, bodywork, meditation, or other modalities, that person’s electromagnetic field, their subtle body, emits increased subtle sounds of higher frequency and carries a more intense libidinal charge. As their personal transformation progresses over time, it may reach a threshold of intensity in which Kundalini Shakti is released. Alternatively, a person undergoing such transformation may have started with a Kundalini rising that operates in the archetypal, acausal realm and induces pranic energy phenomena through microtubules at a cellular level. I share the subtle energy hypotheses of the previous few pages to suggest a useful line of thinking that may help to reconnect the reasoning of science with depth psychology, spirituality, and philosophy. The modeling I have just attempted is consistent with my imaginal perceptions, which are not necessarily accurate, thus requiring further investigation, preferably using today’s measurement modalities. This modeling is also consistent with the phenomena of archetypal activation observed by Jung, with his ideas of participation mystique and psychic infection, and with psychoanalytic conceptions of projective identification and countertransference perceptions. They are supported by Jung’s prescient insight that the analyst is only effective if the analysand activates the
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339 Appendix A Electronic Research and Writing Tools This appendix describes my electronic research methods to assist other researchers. Sonu Shamdasani has graciously provided me with an electronic copy of the Kundalini seminar book (Jung, 1996) that is the central text of this study. For other texts, I have typed extensive notes into my computer. All of the book notes are stored as individual files in a single directory. To help me digest the Kundalini seminar lecture transcripts text that interweaves many different topics and makes new comments in about some topics in later passages, I constructed a master table, using an electronic spreadsheet. This helped me easily sort and view multiple aspects of any item of interest. I was then easily able to find specific information in the table, copy them, and insert them in my draft. Knowing that these electronic notes were available, I was able to wait until I felt I knew enough to have arrived at initial findings, without becoming anxious that I would forget the essential contents of any text. I also employ the syntopical reading method of making comparative notations and comments to passages of texts I read as my thoughts occur (Adler & Van Doren, 1972). This method helps me pursue the conversation among texts. I use it in modified form, adding my comments to computerized notes so they can be electronically searched and retrieved, and to avoid defacing books in my library. These means of electronic note-taking and storage have helped me preserve creative ideas and prolong the incubation period.
340 I use a sophisticated and inexpensive text-search engine (DTSearch 5.21, 1999) that allows me to call up all instances of a word or phrase in a document. The search engine simultaneously displays all documents that include these words or phrases. When I choose any document, its contents are displayed below the title, with the words or phrases highlighted in place. The search engine allows me to easily open that document in my word processor. I am told that similar search capabilities exist in other software products for my computer platform (Windows 98) and others (Macintosh). To ease research and writing, I use an electronic, unabridged dictionary and two electronic thesauruses. These electronic tools help me quickly find just the right fact, source, or turn of phrase without interrupting the creative process of writing. I also find it extremely helpful to search such Internet sites as the Library of Congress electronic index and online stores for new and used books to readily obtain complete citations of texts. I access the online catalogs of the Pacifica Graduate Institute library, and of all the libraries in my county to order books and have them delivered, which makes it easier to devote time to writing. Within a few years, some of these methods may seem primitive. I am grateful that they are available to me now, when I need them most.
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