Tosia H Zraikat

Making peace with Yourself

How often have you heard a friend, family member, or even yourself, express what I can only call self-hate? 

I mean, people say things about themselves that they would never say about another person, and certainly not to a friend; things like: You are fat.  You are ugly. You're hopeless. You don't deserve to be happy. You're a failure. No one would really like you if they knew the REAL you. People only pretend to like you. You're not important. Nothing you do is ever good enough. You're such a disappointment. You're a fake. You'll never get ahead. You'll never find love. You're a bad person. You're so  stupid. You will never be good enough. 
 
Honestly now, how often do you hear yourself utter such words to yourself in the privacy of your mind or your room? 

 

I read that when someone explained the idea of self-hate to the Dalai Lama, and told him how common it is in Western societies, he bent his head and wept.  

 

Our society tends to set up some very unrealistic expectations. Look like a model. Be financially successful. Own shiny big things. Be better/smarter/richer than the next person. Deny or hide your feelings. Fit in. Stand on your own two feet. Be popular....

And because we must inevitably fail to live up to these expectations, many of us become riddled with guilt and shame, and that leads to a spiral of anger, hate and fear, which us lead to more guilt.  

And so grows within us the dark seed of self-hate. Soon, we can only see the world, others, and ourselves through the murky cloud of self-hate, and we turn it against ourselves. Many cases of cancer, depression, autoimmune diseases, thyroid disease, digestive disorders and many other common problems have their origin in suppressed self-hate. 

Or too often, we project our self-hate outward onto others. Hatred and condemnation of others, torture, cruelty, violence and abuse are always mirrors of projected self-hate.

 

If you are beginning to recognise self-hate in yourself, know that you are not trapped. 

You can free yourself, and begin to discover the wonderful, meaningful, lovable, perfect-just-as-you-are being that you really are.

Like all errors, self-hate must be recognised before it can be corrected. That's step one.  That might not be as easy as it seems, because self-hate can manifest in other ways such as rigid conformity, general anxiety, a drive for perfection, even as excessive self-love.

Step two is recognising the consequences of your self-hate: the misery and disappointment it has brought you; the troubled relationships it has created; the persistent anxiety; the pain it causes you to inflict on others, often ‘for their own good’.

Step three is deciding that you have had enough of self-hate, and want to wash your mind clean of it forever. Only when you make a clear choice against self-hate and in favour of self-appreciation will you be ready to change your thinking.

And then you can begin to retrain your self-hating, self-judging ego, teaching it through daily practice to be the kind, supportive, constructive ally that it is meant to be. Talk to yourself as though you were your own best friend - with appreciation, with kindness, with compassion.

 

Encounters with the Animus

After listening to a discussion by Jungian analysts on anima and animus (on This Jungian Life), I decided to repost something I had posted then deleted some time ago.

According to C.G. Jung, one of the fundamental archetypes of the human psyche are the anima and animus, the personifications one might say of the feminine and masculine aspects of the Self.

Jung was not the first person to conceive of the anima and animus,  but he did bring those concepts to our attention as powerful forces within the self that can and must eventually be recognised and given expression. When we ignore, reject or suppress these inner archetypes, not allowing them adequate expression through the ego, they can act up like independent personalities with a will of their own, causing all kinds of psychological difficulties and inner turmoil.

Marie-Louise von Franz, who studied with Jung and became a renowned Jungian psychologist in her own right, had much to say on the animus and its various representations in myth and fairy tale, sometimes as demons, devils and imprisoners or killers of women, sometimes as their saviours. These stories represent in the metaphor of myth how when a woman has not recognised and integrated the masculine power within her, it can literally possess her, rendering her unable to draw on the strengths even her own femininity, or to have genuine mutually supportive relationships with men. 

 The animus often shows up in my dreams, and I recently had a long series of dream encounters with it. Not surprising, because (I confess) I have been deeply distrustful of masculine energy which I see as highly unpredictable and capable of mindless violence .... and because of those recent dreams, I realise that that distrust and fear includes the masculine energy within me, my animus

 Archetypes played out by the animus include the hero and the villain. 

 In myth and fairytale, the woman possessed by her animus becomes dangerous, killing those who are unfortunate to cross her path, or otherwise rendering them helpless. Or like the seven doomed wives of Bluebeard, she might be imprisoned by the dark aspect of the animus, or needing all her endurance and wit like the catkin maiden to break free of male oppression. Such tales accurately describe the enormous struggle that can be required for women to come to bring the masculine into balance with the feminine, and the awful price they might have to pay for failing to do so.

 And sometimes, like the princess rescued by prince Ivanich in Swan Lake, she needs help.

"In such cases, the heroine can often do nothing but wait patiently for a savior to deliver her from her plight. Through her suffering, the animus (for both the demon and the savior are two aspects of the same inner power) can be gradually transformed into a positive inner force.

In real life, too, it takes a long time for a woman to bring the animus into consciousness, and it costs her a great deal of suffering. But if she succeeds in freeing herself from his possession, he changes into an 'inner companion' of the highest value, who confers on her positive masculine qualities such as initiative, courage, objectivity, and intellectual clarity."                                                                                                 

(Von Franz, Archetypal Dimensions of the Psyche, 1997).     

 

Some time ago, my animus appeared in a dream in not one but five distinct representations of male power.

A group of thugs has viciously beaten another man, an otherwise good man who has now returned in a rage to challenge his assailants to a ‘fair’ fight. He is already badly injured and can hardly stand, so it is madness, and I try to talk him out of it, but he is in a fury of outrage and does not even hear me (like the hero Hercules, gone mad).

The thugs have sent someone off to get something, so I wander out of the room into a very wide, high, black polished hallway with polished black walls and ceiling and black and white floor, at the end of which is a huge mostly green poster of a Japanese martial arts Master. The poster almost covers the end wall.

Wondering what kind of ego would want such a big poster, I see the Master, a small man standing very still nearby. For just for a moment we exchange glances, and I get a strong sense of great self-control and power. I do not ask for his help though, because I am afraid that he, being quite small, will be killed by the bullies, but before I turn to go, I notice a sweet-faced, golden-haired boy about six or seven years old in a white karate uniform hurrying into a room for a lesson. He also glances at me. 

Returning reluctantly to the room, fearing to see the man being beaten to death, I find him in a chair, still mad with fury, and the laughing thugs are deciding who will take him on.

Then a group of tall, light haired, pale skinned men enters, wearing simple long white robes, all alike with golden hair and shining faces.  The whole energy of the room changes, and sensing a shift in energy, I plead again with the injured man to leave, but he does not even notice me.

I hope that the men in white will prevent the fight, but they seem to know that both the thugs and the injured man are beyond reason, and seem content to just watch, sort of as witnesses, yet somehow, I feel that everything is different.

I realise that I do not have to stay, and a voice in my head asks, “What has this to do with you?” Nothing, I reply, and wake up.

 That dream shook me so deeply that at first I couldn't even make myself write it down, but I was weary of this private terror of masculine violence, and those five representations of male power in one dream told me to pay attention. I won't take you through my detailed process of dream interpretation, just that it led me into the symbolism of the poster - you remember, that poster of the Japanese Martial Arts Master in the hallway.

Looking up the word, Kendo, which appeared on the poster, I learned that it was not the man's name as I had thought, but the name of a school of Japanese martial arts, the Way of the Sword.

The sword can be a symbol of discord and antagonism, but also, as one finds in many hero myths, the sword signifies discernment, the ability to distinguish good from evil, right from wrong; decisiveness; self-control; sternness; cutting away the inessential; precision; focus, and self-discipline; the attributes of the Master Warrior.

That, I think, was what I had to wander into the dream hallway to see - my saviour, a representation of masculine power that is purposeful, fully conscious and self-aware, intelligent, principled, and self-controlled, the total opposite to the mindless, unmoderated masculine aggressiveness that I dread.

Here was an aspect of my animus - and of masculine aggressive power in the world -  that I could accept, respect, trust and call upon. 

And what aspect of the animus in the dream do the enigmatic robed men represent? They represent a spiritual perspective. They came to remind me that in this world of manifested opposites - good/evil, peacefulness/violence, mindfulness/mindlessness etc. - everything has its season, and sometimes, the best we can do is to overflow with compassion, and with aching hearts, witness what unfolds.

 

 

 

 

Warriors among us

(Call of Perseus by Edward Burne-Jones. Perseus is called by the goddess Athena to the heroic tasks of rescuing a princess and slaying the terrible Gorgon)

 

We are in times that call for spiritual warriors, for individuals and communities to rise above their ordinariness and act for the greater good.

The world is in need of, and will need even more later on, more stalwart souls with the courage, selflessness and persistence to help humanity through some rough times and onto its feet into a changing, perhaps quite unfamiliar world. Even more, we will need more souls dedicated to helping humanity to evolve spiritually, to help pull the rest of us out of our complacency and into greater awareness of our mutual responsibility to each other, to the planet and to our own development. 

Such warriors already here among us, and some are still to be born. Heroes have existed in all ages, especially when the need is great, and we are now in great need. Millions go hungry, live in extreme poverty and degradation, and die while those in power engage in their paper-money games and wars in the name of greed and power, and harm the very earth on which we depend for survival. Right now, dedicated, brave souls are doing what they can to end these evils and change the world for the better.

But the work is too great, the needs are too many for a few. We, every one of us who can see what is happening, must help the heroes in their task. We must start developing some of the qualities of the true warrior, and applying them in our daily lives. Every little bit will make a big difference.

One thing that keeps us from doing this is the confusion over just what a warrior is, and what a warrior does. A warrior is not a hero, and does not seek to be, though she or he may do heroic things. But our conception of the warrior is so limited that most people don't recognise the warrior when she or stands before them.

A long time ago, a warrior was expected to possess not only courage but also finer qualities like a sense of honour, nobility, integrity and selflessness. Nowadays, a warrior is more or less a fighter, a soldier. And we call almost anyone a hero – people who get paid for doing stuff; people who wear certain uniforms or are famous; people who are good at their jobs; people who do us favours …anyone. The word 'warrior' is not used so much these days, but the word ‘hero’ is bandied around so much that it has become meaningless. Our society is obsessed with heroes, something we have inherited from the Ancient Greeks in particular.

 Ulysses (Odysseus), called by the Greeks ‘Odysseus the Cunning’ , was famous for his many deceits, and while he was in some ways a good leader, he was also terribly flawed. Yet he was considered a hero. The great warrior of the Achaeans or Greeks, Achilles, had a lethal temper. His rages led to many needless deaths and battles at Troy, but he was a skilled, dogged and almost unconquerable warrior, and therefore held in very high regard as a hero.

Then there’s Jason, leader of the Argonauts and the quest for the Golden Fleece. This character from ancient Greek myth was raised by the wise centaur, Chiron; helped by the goddess of wisdom, Athena, and sent on one of those impossible quests where mythic and fairytale heroes (both male and female) are tried and tested in pursuit of justice or reward. On his quest and accompanied by famous Greek heroes and semi-gods, Jason proved at times to be courageous, ambitious, resourceful and favoured by a goddess. You have here all the makings of an ancient Hero.

(Jason and the Dragon, Etruscan Museum, Vatican City)

Yet even though his quest was successful, Jason did not die a heroic death or live happily surrounded by love and admiration. Instead, he lost children, wife, position and honour, and spent his last years haunting the ruins of this ship, the Argo, pathetically reliving past glories until he was killed when a rotten beam fell on his head. Despite all the other trapping of heroism, Jason was so self-centred, so manipulative, so dishonorable to his wife, Medea, and in his treatment of enemies that even the hero-besotted ancients saw him as fallen from grace.

But what the ancients called heroic was very different to what we came to call heroic, and rightly so. We might admire ancient heroes for their courage, persistence, fighting skills, single-mindedness and occasional nobility and generosity, but we don’t want our sons or husbands to be like them. They were also, in most regards, self-centred and profoundly selfish. They were not, to my thinking, true heroes. Nor are most whom we call heroes today.

A hero is someone who faces challenges with courage, integrity and persistence in order to help others.

The true hero acts from a higher level of consciousness, from a level of self that is individualistic (not easily swayed by opinion or outside influences) and at the same time, unselfish (motivated to act for the good of others). A heroic act or life is intrinsically spiritual. 

We may not be died-in-the-wool heroes, but each one of us has the capacity to act heroically, at least sometimes. It is the capacity to heed the guidance of the soul; to act in greater alignment with our true spiritual nature.

If we are willing, we can recognise that capacity in ourselves, and nourish it so that we can be of real service in the world.

(Call of Perseus by Edward Burne-Jones. Perseus is called by the goddess Athena to the heroic tasks of rescuing a princess and slaying the terrible Gorgon)

 

We are in times that call for spiritual warriors, for individuals and communities to rise above their ordinariness and act for the greater good.

The world is in need of, and will need even more later on, more stalwart souls with the courage, selflessness and persistence to help humanity through some rough times and onto its feet into a changing, perhaps quite unfamiliar world. Even more, we will need more souls dedicated to helping humanity to evolve spiritually, to help pull the rest of us out of our complacency and into greater awareness of our mutual responsibility to each other, to the planet and to our own development. 

Such warriors already here among us, and some are still to be born. Heroes have existed in all ages, especially when the need is great, and we are now in great need. Millions go hungry, live in extreme poverty and degradation, and die while those in power engage in their paper-money games and wars in the name of greed and power, and harm the very earth on which we depend for survival. Right now, dedicated, brave souls are doing what they can to end these evils and change the world for the better.

But the work is too great, the needs are too many for a few. We, every one of us who can see what is happening, must help the heroes in their task. We must start developing some of the qualities of the true warrior, and applying them in our daily lives. Every little bit will make a big difference.

One thing that keeps us from doing this is the confusion over just what a warrior is, and what a warrior does. A warrior is not a hero, and does not seek to be, though she or he may do heroic things. But our conception of the warrior is so limited that most people don't recognise the warrior when she or stands before them.

A long time ago, a warrior was expected to possess not only courage but also finer qualities like a sense of honour, nobility, integrity and selflessness. Nowadays, a warrior is more or less a fighter, a soldier. And we call almost anyone a hero – people who get paid for doing stuff; people who wear certain uniforms or are famous; people who are good at their jobs; people who do us favours …anyone. The word 'warrior' is not used so much these days, but the word ‘hero’ is bandied around so much that it has become meaningless. Our society is obsessed with heroes, something we have inherited from the Ancient Greeks in particular.

 Ulysses (Odysseus), called by the Greeks ‘Odysseus the Cunning’ , was famous for his many deceits, and while he was in some ways a good leader, he was also terribly flawed. Yet he was considered a hero. The great warrior of the Achaeans or Greeks, Achilles, had a lethal temper. His rages led to many needless deaths and battles at Troy, but he was a skilled, dogged and almost unconquerable warrior, and therefore held in very high regard as a hero.

Then there’s Jason, leader of the Argonauts and the quest for the Golden Fleece. This character from ancient Greek myth was raised by the wise centaur, Chiron; helped by the goddess of wisdom, Athena, and sent on one of those impossible quests where mythic and fairytale heroes (both male and female) are tried and tested in pursuit of justice or reward. On his quest and accompanied by famous Greek heroes and semi-gods, Jason proved at times to be courageous, ambitious, resourceful and favoured by a goddess. You have here all the makings of an ancient Hero.

(Jason and the Dragon, Etruscan Museum, Vatican City)

Yet even though his quest was successful, Jason did not die a heroic death or live happily surrounded by love and admiration. Instead, he lost children, wife, position and honour, and spent his last years haunting the ruins of this ship, the Argo, pathetically reliving past glories until he was killed when a rotten beam fell on his head. Despite all the other trapping of heroism, Jason was so self-centred, so manipulative, so dishonorable to his wife, Medea, and in his treatment of enemies that even the hero-besotted ancients saw him as fallen from grace.

But what the ancients called heroic was very different to what we came to call heroic, and rightly so. We might admire ancient heroes for their courage, persistence, fighting skills, single-mindedness and occasional nobility and generosity, but we don’t want our sons or husbands to be like them. They were also, in most regards, self-centred and profoundly selfish. They were not, to my thinking, true heroes. Nor are most whom we call heroes today.

A hero is someone who faces challenges with courage, integrity and persistence in order to help others.

The true hero acts from a higher level of consciousness, from a level of self that is individualistic (not easily swayed by opinion or outside influences) and at the same time, unselfish (motivated to act for the good of others). A heroic act or life is intrinsically spiritual. 

We may not be died-in-the-wool heroes, but each one of us has the capacity to act heroically, at least sometimes. It is the capacity to heed the guidance of the soul; to act in greater alignment with our true spiritual nature.

If we are willing, we can recognise that capacity in ourselves, and nourish it so that we can be of real service in the world.