Dream Pattern Analysis
Dream Pattern Analysis is a specific way of approaching images in a dream. According to Jung, Conforti and others in the analytical community, the Psyche expresses itself in images and symbols that are universal and unchangeable by human experience. The Collective Unconscious or the Objective Psyche, that which is the matrix of existence seeks to express itself in meaningful ways for the individual. Each image has to be looked at for its specific attributes, proclivities, way that it behaves in the natural world. Depending on the context, we can accurately translate the meaning from the image if we stay with the image. The problem is that we cannot always understand what we are being told because the images seem too chaotic and subjective: we ascribe our own personal meaning to what we experience. There is really nothing wrong with associating our experiences to images and symbols, but we can truly miss the mark if we stay with what we think we know versus really looking at what the image really is. For example, if a snake appears in your dream, we can make any number of associations with snakes. Freudians will assume it is a sexual allusion to the male genitals, others might go with the meaning of transformation or healing. But if we look at the snake and begin to ask questions about the snake, we might find out that the snake is a garter snake in the garden and not a boa in the bedroom. There is a huge difference between the two. The first is a natural occurrence which is consistent with how things are and the other is a dangerous situation which does not occur in the natural world. The context of the garden tells us that we are in nature, that snakes belong out there and that garter snakes perform an ecological function. All is well. The bedroom, on the other hand, is a person's most intimate space, not only for intimacy with a loved one, but where one goes to sleep, to re-charge, where one is the most oneself away from others. A boa constrictor not only does not belong in a house, if it is there, it is saying that something very dangerous that could crush and devour one has entered one's psychic space. The appropriate response to that is to run! And then ask the question: What is in your life that is so dangerous, so close to you that can obliterate you? In addition, we would want to look at the dreamer's response to the boa. Are they aware of the danger? In this case, we could ask what one's feeling about the boa is in order to determine whether the dreamer has an appropriate attitude toward the image or if it is dissonant. If the dreamer says something like a boa is an incredible exemplar of power and potency, they might want to see the boa in the bedroom as a symbol of their own power. What is missed is that a boa in bedroom represents extreme danger and would point to the dreamer's naivete when dealing with others in intimate spaces who pose a real threat to the dreamer. In addition, it could also point to the dreamer's illusion that they possess those attributes to compensate for a sense of powerlessness. The rest of the dream would provide more information. On the other hand, if the dreamer says that boas are dangerous and that they were scared of it, that tells us something different. Since they are not ignoring the danger, then we would want to look at what is in their lives that they know is dangerous and needs immediate attention. There are many other aspects to this image as well that would reveal more about the dreamer's life. Questions to ask would be: what does the dreamer do when she/he sees the snake? What happens next? how does the dream end? This is a very beginning look at how I am learning to approach dream images or any image that comes up in counseling sessions. Since images are the way that Psyche communicates, it is a good idea to get as close to the objective meaning of the image as we can. When we research how a particular image actually is in the world, a bear, a bee, a shoe, a glass, we can come very close to the meaning it holds for the particular person at the particular time. If there is a bear in the winter eating honey, we know that something is off! Bears hibernate in the winter and there is no honey. So why this image? Is the dreamer engaged in something where the timing is way off and the resources. are missing? This way of approaching images is exciting and exacting work. It takes time and discipline and curiosity. If you are interested in learning more, feel free to contact me.
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On suffering
I did it once. Went through the dark night of the soul in a little row boat And didn’t sink. So I did it once. Then again and again I have been called to attend to separation Suffer the stark, dark gritty agony of loneliness – And realize There is no cure for being human I am almost sixty now My hair is silver and gray My eyes betray my years As do the fine lines around my mouth Smile and grimace both I don’t much like getting back in the boat To ride out the night Or say hello to the now familiar darkness Out from which I will emerge Glad to be alive. But I will do it. After all, I have a lot of practice. Silvia Behrend On life
Opening and closing Systole and diastole How lucky we are! We do not have to command our heart to beat or control the expansion or contraction Lungs fill, lungs empty Organs, physical and spiritual together We live without effort. If only that were true when the heart is pierced by pain Or our bellies drop with fear When the throat parches And the tongue sticks to the roof of the mouth Then we need effort and the courage to risk Standing and standing still Even when the winds blow and the inner admonitions sound true but are not That is when we command our heart to stay strong We swallow the fear We stand and unglue our tongues We say, No Or we say Yes. Systole and diastole. How lucky. Silvia Behrend I have been re-visiting Judaism this past year, reflecting on what is deeply meaningful in the rituals, stories and traditions of my ancestors. Jung’s comments that rituals and dogma exist to contain both elements of awe and fear in face of the unknown stir me powerfully. (Jung ) We need a container that will allow us to experience the numinosum and be related to it without being destroyed. Yet those very rituals and dogma can lose their power over time and become rigid and lifeless. So while I do not attend a synagogue or say the prayers, I am aware of the passages of celebrations of my tradition and seek to make sense of them as an archetypal pattern analyst. What is it that I see and feel happening, what stirs within that is of value to me and maybe to others about what it means to be human in relationship to the great mystery - Psyche, God or the numinosum? This past Wednesday night at sundown marked the celebration of Jewish New Year, known as Rosh Hashanah, or the head of the year. Liturgically, this marks the beginning of reading the entire five books of the Hebrew Scriptures which continues to the end of the year. This cyclical reading embeds the people in the stories, rituals and celebrations that contain the meaning of what it means to be God’s people in relationship to one another and to their highest spiritual value, God. New Year is celebrated by eating sweet things, apples in honey, cakes, pomegranates in a ritual of ‘participation mystique’, as though by ingesting sweetness and potential, it will come true in our lives for the succeeding year. Ten days later, New Years is followed by the most Awesome day of the Year, the Day of Judgment, or Yom Kippur. This day is spent in communal fasting, reading, worshipping, confessing one’s transgressions against one’s neighbors, self, family and God. The days leading up to Yom Kippur are filled with introspection, who and how did I harm? What do I need to do to atone for that hurt? Will I be inscribed in the Book of Life one more year? It’s always been curious to me that we celebrate the sweetness of life, the beginning of the New Year before we know whether we will be allowed to live! It always seemed backwards, we should do the hard work and then rejoice. I initially thought that the way it made sense was to look at New Year as the archetypal beginning of life, that life renews itself because that is Nature. It is not personal, whether or not I am inscribed in the Book of Life is not important to Life, although it may be important to me. But then, it occurred to me that the sequence is correct. What comes first is the paradise of oneness. Life is sweet and full of potential. But after Paradise, comes consciousness, and with it, the pain and suffering of separation and alienation from the One. (Edinger) Yom Kippur offers us the way back, a re-union which is not a returning to the infantile state of utter dissolution into the One, but a mature and aware recognition of our human fallibilities. We must be willing to do the hard work of reparation and restoration in the human realm in order to be reconciled with the Source of our Being. Whatever name we give it, God, Psyche, Atman, numinosum, the only way to it is through our humanity and our humility. Thank God for Rosh Hashanah that gives us the strength to face the difficult task of repentance and at-one-ment. That is sweet indeed. Edinger, Edward F., (1992). Ego and Archetype: Individuation and the Religious Function of the Psyche. Boston: Shambala. Jung, C. G. (1938). Psychology and Religion. London: Yale University Press In Burnt Norton, part one of T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, there are a couple of lines which I have loved both as a dancer and a writer. These are the lines: at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance. I have had the experience of being suspended in that moment a few times in my life but I never thought to connect this moment to Jung’s transcendent function, that dynamic dance between the conscious and the unconscious which results in the emergence of the ‘third thing”, i.e. the process of individuation (Jacoby, p. 135). As we know, this process is itself a complex, we are driven to it from the depths, we may fight it, embrace it, ignore it, resent it, but it is inexorable and painful. I have known that theoretically. But when I went kayaking, I had a new glimmer of somatic understanding which gave me some much needed comfort. For it is one thing to know a thing and another to live into it with awareness and energy. Since I am not a frequent kayaker, I needed to be reminded of the simple rules: · Hold the oar evenly, a little wider than shoulder length apart for balance · Pull the oar with the paddle side closest to the water · Push the oar with the paddle side farthest from the water · Don’t dig too deep with the paddle into the water, you will destabilize Once in the kayak, I followed the instructions and off I went into the Puget Sound on an overcast and chilly day. The tide was slack, which meant that it had already come in and wouldn’t go out for a little while. The sea was calm and so was I. I practiced, pull with the lower, push with the upper. It worked: I moved swiftly across the glassy water, stopping every once in a while to stretch my fingers and observe the gulls, the seals and the occasional power boat. One hour out to sea and it was time to return. But this time, the tide had turned, the current was against me and I had to pull and push harder. My unaccustomed to kayaking muscles strained, my hands felt like frozen claws, and the kayak did not move as fast as before. I was tired and sore and still had an hour to go. That last hour was difficult but also invigorating. I physically understood that the push and the pull are necessary for any movement to occur. The same is true psychologically, i.e., the dance between the polarities is crucial for our own individuation process and it doesn’t just happen to us from the depths of the unconscious. We have to take the oars and push and learn to push and to pull. The movement is the result of the resistance to the water, to the unconscious. It also has to be right amount of depth and the right amount of resistance. That still point? That occurred when I arrived at the dock and couldn’t get out of the kayak. I was filled with the laughter of pure joy and elation! I knew that the next time the complexes came to get me, I would be pushed and pulled and that I would be able to once again be able to reach the shore. Jacobi, Jolande (1973). The Psychology of C G Jung. New Haven: Yale University Press. In Burnt Norton, part one of T. S. Eliot’s Four Quartets, there are a couple of lines which I have loved both as a dancer and a writer. These are the lines: at the still point, there the dance is, But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity, Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards, Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point, There would be no dance, and there is only the dance. I have had the experience of being suspended in that moment a few times in my life but I never thought to connect this moment to Jung’s transcendent function, that dynamic dance between the conscious and the unconscious which results in the emergence of the ‘third thing”, i.e. the process of individuation (Jacoby, p. 135). As we know, this process is itself a complex, we are driven to it from the depths, we may fight it, embrace it, ignore it, resent it, but it is inexorable and painful. I have known that theoretically. But when I went kayaking, I had a new glimmer of somatic understanding which gave me some much needed comfort. For it is one thing to know a thing and another to live into it with awareness and energy. Since I am not a frequent kayaker, I needed to be reminded of the simple rules: · Hold the oar evenly, a little wider than shoulder length apart for balance · Pull the oar with the paddle side closest to the water · Push the oar with the paddle side farthest from the water · Don’t dig too deep with the paddle into the water, you will destabilize Once in the kayak, I followed the instructions and off I went into the Puget Sound on an overcast and chilly day. The tide was slack, which meant that it had already come in and wouldn’t go out for a little while. The sea was calm and so was I. I practiced, pull with the lower, push with the upper. It worked: I moved swiftly across the glassy water, stopping every once in a while to stretch my fingers and observe the gulls, the seals and the occasional power boat. One hour out to sea and it was time to return. But this time, the tide had turned, the current was against me and I had to pull and push harder. My unaccustomed to kayaking muscles strained, my hands felt like frozen claws, and the kayak did not move as fast as before. I was tired and sore and still had an hour to go. That last hour was difficult but also invigorating. I physically understood that the push and the pull are necessary for any movement to occur. The same is true psychologically, i.e., the dance between the polarities is crucial for our own individuation process and it doesn’t just happen to us from the depths of the unconscious. We have to take the oars and push and learn to push and to pull. The movement is the result of the resistance to the water, to the unconscious. It also has to be right amount of depth and the right amount of resistance. That still point? That occurred when I arrived at the dock and couldn’t get out of the kayak. I was filled with the laughter of pure joy and elation! I knew that the next time the complexes came to get me, I would be pushed and pulled and that I would be able to once again be able to reach the shore. Jacobi, Jolande (1973). The Psychology of C G Jung. New Haven: Yale University Press. At the table
When I sit at the able and the cutlery and glasses gleam When the napkins are folded white When the chair scrapes the floor just right And my skirt rustles on the seat Neither brocade nor velvet, nor cotton or silk But a soft and pliant fabric Like the wished for comfort of the soul In love with God That is when I know I will have found you To earn a seat at that table Requires the silence of the self Quiet as a proverbial mouse All potentia, possible movement, thought, desire All probable outcomes Held as softly as a breath before beauty Suspended in time until the hand reaches out And issues the invitation Come, sit at my table On the right side of the hand of God And you, my friends, will have already gathered Each sitting at the place of honor For there are no contradictions At the table God sets For those who seek The narrow path In Projection and Re-collection in Jungian Psychology, Marie Louise von Franz writes about the Self’s social function. She states that it is in the very structure of the Self to provide a place where each person “gathers around him his own ‘soul family,’ a group of people not created by accident or by mere egoistic motivation but rather through a deeper, more essential spiritual interest or concern: reciprocal individuation.” (1978, p. 177). I was struck by the notion that in the very essence of the Self, there is provender for those who travel the narrow path of individuation, the very act of engaging in that process brings us into the deep community of one’s fellow travelers. The Self provides the structure around which we can find sustenance, companionship, respite and inspiration. This is the motif of the King Arthur’s Round Table, the table at which Christ sat at the Last Supper. Not only does this table image symbolize the re-membering of our psychic projections, it also reflects that we need to be in the company of others on the same quest. Jung states: “In this world created by the Self we meet all those many to whom we belong, whose hearts we touch; here “there is no distance, but immediate presence.” (Jung in von Franz, ibid). That is what emerges as we participate in the Assisi Community and in the von Franz study group, in the Depth Psychology Alliance and other worthy groups. Whether physically present around a ‘real’ table at conferences, or gathered around our telephone lines, the Self is the organizing principle that brings us together. Our meal is rich, our time precious. Thank God for that! Von Franz, Marie Louise (1978). Projection and Re-collection in Jungian Psychology. Chicago: Open Court. A moment ago
The sun was shining While we watched The pounding rhythm of feet Running Sweat and water Tears and laughter Sharp pains in the side A moment ago They stepped over the finish line Raised fist high Saw loved ones Flashed a smile of victory A moment ago The Beast unleashed Memories of planes and buildings, Drones and wedding parties, Newton, Columbine, Batman, Kent State A litany of horrors A wail of pain Innocence shattered All it takes is one moment To change life into death Death into despair And in the midst of tragedy The unimaginable kindness of strangers. I am a member of a collective garden, where about 20 of us work together to grow food, educate ourselves on sustainability, practice organic farming methods and generally have a good time. We have weekly work parties and also opportunities for solitary work. I have spent many hours observing nature and what she has to teach me about archetypal patterns. I have learned to look through the eyes of a pattern analyst. At an early spring work party I saw one of our members broadcasting seeds over a bed and thought that this was the expression of the archetypal field of cultivation. This was the expression of the development of consciousness, no longer reliant on mere opportunism for gathering food, cultivating requires conscious engagement and knowledge of the processes of growth, maturation and harvest to ensure survival. Except I was wrong. This person had used all the seeds for the entire season on one half bed. What would grow in this spot would be a cacophony of differing greens, salads, chard, basil, arugula, all competing for space, nutrients and attention. Instead of careful planning, timely planting and harvesting, this would be a short lived harvest. Of course nothing terrible happened. We bought more seed to plant as planned and we will watch and see what happens in this bed, harvest and eat the tender young shoots and wonder what they might be. It will be an experiment and a reminder that if you don’t know what you are doing, just ask someone. I realized, however, that what I thought I saw being revealed was not what was being told. Following my training, I looked at this as though it were a dream. I so, what would this dream image be telling me about the dreamer? I really understood what I have been studying for some time about fields and dreams. That is, a field can only be expressed through form and form shows us what the field is. As Dr. Conforti has said many times, “every story has a picture and every picture has a story”. I will leave it to the reader to formulate thoughts about what is being revealed by this image. But for me, the most pertinent learning was about the nature of the reality of the psyche and its relationship to matter, that is, us. What I witnessed in the outer world, when seen as a dream revealed the field in which this person was embedded. This is the discipline that looks at all behavior as the explication of a field or archetypal pattern. We are all unconsciously expressing our inner life, complexes, blind spots and it is our great task to bring them to consciousness. The theory is proven by the lived experience. I can look at how I move through the world, how I show up at the garden, in my office, in the kitchen as though it were a dream. What would that reveal to me about my life now? If I am driving down the street and realize that I am not paying attention, where am I going unconscious about how I navigate the world? If I dream I am driving and not paying attention, is it not revealing the same issue. I was reminded of what Jung wrote in Memories, Dreams and Reflections, “our unconscious existence is the real one and our conscious world a kind of illusion, an apparent reality constructed for a specific purpose, like a dream which seems a reality as long as we are in it. (Jung, p. 324). Jorge Luis Borges poignantly expresses the human relationship to Psyche the short story: The Circular Ruins. In the story, the old man is tasked with creating a man through his dreams. Over time, he dreams a man who becomes a wise man in another village. The only element which knows the true nature of the man is Fire. One night, a great fire consumes the village and the man is bereft that his creation will know that he is an ephemera because the fire will not consume him. This is the ending of the story: “First (after a long drought) a remote cloud, as light as a bird, appeared on a hill; then, toward the South, the sky took on the rose color of leopard's gums; then came clouds of smoke which rusted the metal of the nights; afterwards came the panic-stricken flight of wild animals. For what had happened many centuries before was repeating itself. The ruins of the sanctuary of the god of Fire was destroyed by fire. In a dawn without birds, the wizard saw the concentric fire licking the walls. For a moment, he thought of taking refuge in the water, but then he understood that death was coming to crown his old age and absolve him from his labors. He walked toward the sheets of flame. They did not bite his flesh, they caressed him and flooded him without heat or combustion. With relief, with humiliation, with terror, he understood that he also was an illusion, that someone else was dreaming him.” (http://www.acsu.buffalo.edu/~jatill/175/CircularRuins.htm) What I understood from my work in the garden and as a pattern analyst is that whether we are the dreamers or the dreamt ones, we still have work to do. The earth awaits our seed, the time for harvest will come. Jung, C. G (1961). Memories, Dream, Reflections. New York: Random House. |
AuthorDr. Silvia Behrend is a Certified Pattern Analyst, educator and mentor Archives
May 2020
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