Tosia H Zraikat

Why I Love Jung

I could write a whole book telling why I love and am devoted to Carl Gustave Jung, and continue to dive into his writings for answers to my big questions and for guidance when I am lost .... which is so often. 

It is not only his theories and ideas that I love, though for me they stand as some of the most profound, original and magnificent ever spoken or written, and I am deeply grateful to have them often at my fingertips and spoken from his own mouth in videos. May those thousands of scribes, editors, publishers, film-makers, interviewers and their teams who have made such wealth available to us be forever blessed.

But I love also the man himself, as he is seen on those precious videos and depicted by those who met him, knew him, also loved him: Jung the friend, the peasant, the deep thinker, the healer, the eloquent writer, the jokester, lover, sinner, the sculptor, the artist, the complete human being ... Like the esteemed Edward Edinger, I see dear CJ as an epochal human being, one of those who come every thousand years or so to bring transformative wisdom for those who will listen. Not a saint or an angel but more, I think, because he was also so totally, genuinely, heartfully, imperfectly human. 

And like any devotee, I gather all I can of his wisdom, taking into my heart what little of it I can understand. I have dozens of books by or about Jung and his wisdom, and by his long-time devotee and colleague, Marie-Louise von Franz, who also loved him. I watch films of their interviews. I read writings and watch videos of others who knew them.

(Jung and the young ML von Franz. I cannot find the source of this image)

Recently, I began reading von Franz's book, Jung, His Myth in Our Time, and have been making my slow appreciative way through it, a richly detailed, earnest summary of Jung's work that just rounds it out for me even more. 

I love her too, Marie-Louise von Franz, who once said that she knew on their first meeting when she was eighteen years old and he in his fifties that she would never meet another of his stature. How brave she was, that intellectual young woman, to surrender to the creative Eros that drew her into the circle of Jung. I suspect that Jupiter, lord of higher truth and meaning and wise Sophia who touches God through the body and the mud of earth were also in the mix.

Others have claimed to know Jung as he is not usually known. In his prodigious Catalfaque, Peter Kingsley, scholar of ancient philosophy, Mystery and Magic, on which he has written several books, writes that Jung has not been recognised for the  shaman, the poet, mystic and prophet that he was. But though CJ shied away from such descriptions, he was recognised as such by Marie-Louise von Franz, Laurens van der Post, Henri Corbin, Karl Kerenyi and others who knew him. He was instantly recognised as such by readers in our times, not all, but by people like me who knew from the very first reading of his work that they were entering into a wider, deeper, more magical, mythopoeic world than was usually presented. 

In Jung, his Myth in Our Time, p. 62, the erudite von Franz whose dominant thinking function chastened what was so clearly her immense admiration and love for this man, writes:

I fell in love with Jung from the first book I read, his Memories, Dreams and Reflections, which I read sometimes weeping with joy at having found someone who knew, understood and valued the reality I had sometimes inhabited, who hugely expanded it, enriched it, sacralised it, and even more, could explain it. Here I am over forty years later, still picking up gems, still finding treasures of deep insight, still caught up by the Eros energy, Sophia's cthonic, profoundly feminine divinity in Jung's vision of the human psyche and the world. 

“Eros is a mighty daemon”

(C. G. Jung, Two Essays on Analytical Psychology)

(Marie-Louise Von Franz, Barbara Hannah, C.G. Jung)

 

Must the Animus always be Male?

Last year, I think it was, I dreamed I was on a ship and a strange-looking woman with orange wildly flyaway hair and the protuberant eyebrows one often sees in old men was helping me dress for dinner.

Later in that dream, she was going downstairs hugging a man in a black jacket (I never saw his face, but she turned to me with a very mischeivous smile), and I got the impression that they were interconnected, that he and she were one person. God knows why, but I thought of the goddess Athena who was never so outlandish or playful, as far as I know. 

In my youth I was strongly drawn to Athena who represented for me the clear thinking, practical, creative aspects of woman. I came to see her as a level-headed aspect of men’s anima that advises and guides a man who is open to her influence, a guide that keeps Odysseus from becoming yet another egoistic, war-loving, glory-seeking hero, that appreciates his loving relationships with his wife and son, his love of home, and of wisdom.

Yet I wonder whether this particular goddess could also represent a positive aspect of a woman’s inner masculine energy, her animus, my animus, one that could ameliorate or balance the negative animus that has exerted such a big influence over me.

She is for me, after all, a mix of masculine and feminine, born jumping fully armed out of Zeus’ head, child of the Alpha male deity with logos, creativity, ingenuity, rationality, detachment, toughness, and also of mother Metis, goddess of wisdom, creator of crafts, with feminine qualities. Can  a being with both male and female qualities serve as the animus in a woman's psyche, I wonder?  Must the animus always be male?

Early in life, I came to devalue femininity - its softness, loving, desiring intimate connection and deep feeling aspects - in favour of male qualities that I strove to develop. Girl, woman, lover, mother, I was possessed by a negative animus that told me to be highly suspicious and distrustful of Eros in all its forms, ashamed of my deep feelings, embarrassed by my hidden unexpressed longing for connectedness and intimacy, and see worth only in my intellect and intellectual acheivements. It has taken years of inner work to be able to finally recognise the necessity of Eros and to surrender to its energies.

But now, the negative animus is making itself felt again as a strong, judgmental resistance to the Eros energy that I have finally embraced and am working with. This negative animus speaks as an inner critic, a ‘voice of reason,’ sarcastic, derisive, fear-promoting, blaming, and some days, I find it very hard to ignore.

Marie-Louise von Franz in The Way of the Dream has been helping me to see its action on me more clearly “The negative animus mainly manifests as an opinionated resistance against having feelings of love,” she says and “The worst about it is that she experiences it as if she thinks it herself…. It thinks in her.”

So. That criticism is not my inner wisdom talking, as I had once thought, because my inner wisdom is telling me in all ways to embrace Eros, whatever it brings - positive and negative. It is the archetype thinking itself in me: I do not have to accept what it says. 

Now what would Athena say?