Musings on Self-realization in the light of psychoanalysis … by Jenna Lilla Phd
To live is to struggle. Whether we are rich or poor, beautiful or plain, famous or more humble, we will struggle. For struggle arises from within, a struggle of the mind, inherent within the psychical makeup of the mind. Yet it is this very struggle that brings forth the potential for growth. It is our ability to be with the struggle, to work with the tensions of life, that opens a horizon of growth.
The Hindu religions speak to this struggle: we struggle with duality. We also live within duality: good and bad, dark and light, sun and moon, day and night, up and down, insight and outside. Enlightenment is often said to be freedom from such duality.
In modern Western culture, I often hear people speaking of enlightenment as if it happens instantaneously. One moment you are a depressed, lifeless human being and the next you are enlightened, even immortal. I believe this is an idealized notion of a process that is much more gradual and humble. I would counter that it is the very capacity to tarry with the tensions of duality that leads to ‘enlightenment.’
I will refer to GWF Hegel to elucidate this process. Hegel’s work is a dialectical philosophy about the dialectics of being. He speaks of duality using terms such terms as ‘contradiction’ and ‘dialectic.’ For example, Hegel says: “Everything is inherently contradictory.” (Science of Logic, 1816) And also: “Everything that surrounds us may be viewed as an instance of the dialectic.” (Encyclopedia, 1817)
For Hegel the dialectic is neither right nor wrong. Instead a dialectical tension leads spirit in its forward movement and development. Hegel is clear on this point: “contradiction is the root of all movement and vitality.” (Science of Logic, 1816) Through struggling with dialectical tension we may come into awareness of the absolute.
While most of us have a vague idea of the ‘absolute,’ the true nature of this concept is not so easily ascertained. I will say that the absolute is not as simple as ‘it is all One.’ For the dialectic holds within itself its own tension. Hegel expresses this point: “The grasping of opposites in their unity or of the positive in the negative … is the most important aspect of the dialectic.” (ibid)
It is this core tension which I wish to focus on. For we will be seeing this dialectical tension in the work of Carl Jung. For instance, “The grasping of opposites in their unity” is found in Jung’s work on the coincidentia oppositorum. But even deeper than these archetypal dialectics is the core dialectical thesis buried in the writing of Carl Jung. This thesis regards the psyche in relationship to “the positive in the negative.”
Jung’s thesis is subtle. It is never directly stated. It is known only insofar as it is intuited through veiled images and archetypal dynamics. In the Western tradition we call this act of intuitive knowing Gnosis.
I see it most clearly expressed in and through the archetypal dialectics of God and the mother, and in our relationship to this primal coupling. In this case, the masculine principle represents the positive, the feminine represents the negative. The syzygy is their unity: “the positive in the negative.” This primal dialectic is at the heart of my endeavor into Carl Jung’s work. I will be introducing this dialectic over the next couple of months starting with Jung’s work on Libido. For now I would like to provide a glimpse into the dynamics of the dialectic through a Hindu myth.
The story is from the Vishnu Purana, written before the third century CE. It speaks to the multiple layers of dialectical play, as well as human struggle. From an archetypal perspective this story illustrates both existential duality and the primal dialectics of the psyche: the affirmed and the negated.
The story begins as the deities pray to Vishnu (the supreme deity) for refuge:
“Spirit of all, have compassion upon us; defend us with thy mighty power.”
Vishnu answers with a command:
“Cast all sorts of medicinal herbs into the Sea of Milk; and then taking the mountain Mandara for the churning-stick, the serpent Vásuki for the rope, churn the ocean together for ambrosia.”
In the story, the Sea of Milk is a sacred borderland lying between the temporal and the eternal, between the measurable and unmeasurable. It is a liminal realm, and from a Jungian perspective can be seen as representing the realms of imagination. Within these imaginal realms we have not only the deities, but the demons (shadow figures) as well.
In the story, Vishnu requests that the deities work together with the demons. They must churn the Ocean of Milk using the serpent Vásuki for the rope. They must honor the tension of opposites, and in their labor they will create the ambrosia. Vishnu says:
“You must be at peace with them [the demons], and engage to give them an equal portion of the fruit of your associated toil.”
The deities and demons work together to churn the Ocean of Milk, representing a laborious act of dialectical struggle. The story continues:
“Being thus instructed by the god of gods, the divinities entered into alliance with the demons, and they jointly undertook the acquirement of the beverage of immortality. They collected various kinds of medicinal herbs, and cast them into the sea of milk, the waters of which were radiant as the thin and shining clouds of autumn. They then took the mountain Mandara for the staff; the serpent Vásuki for the cord; and commenced to churn the ocean for the Amrita. The assembled gods were stationed by Krishńa at the tail of the serpent; the Daityas and Dánavas at its head and neck.”
The deities and demons churn the sea of milk, and from this churning all sort of wondrous things arise. The creative nature of both the imagination and the dialectical struggle is thus illuminated:
“From the ocean, thus churned by the gods and Dánavas, first uprose the cow Surabhi, the fountain of milk and curds … Then, as the holy Siddhas in the sky wondered what this could be, appeared the goddess Váruní (the deity of wine), her eyes rolling with intoxication. Next, from the whirlpool of the deep, sprang the celestial Párijáta tree, the delight of the nymphs of heaven, perfuming the world with its blossoms. The troop of Ápsarasas, the nymphs of heaven, were then produced, of surprising loveliness, endowed with beauty and with taste. The cool-rayed moon next rose… “
As well as good, a poison also arose from the churning. There is always a new dialectical tension emerging, always a new horizon :
“A poison was engendered from the sea, of which the snake gods (Nágas) took possession.”
And then, a cup of Amrita [the elixir of immortality] came forth, along with the goddess Sri:
“Dhanwantari, robed in white, and bearing in his hand the cup of Amrita, next came forth…Then, seated on a full-blown lotus, and holding a water-lily in her hand, the goddess Śrí, radiant with beauty, rose from the waves. “
It is Sri, the mother of all beings that is the final product of the churning:
“she was produced from the sea, at the churning of the ocean by the demons and the gods, to obtain ambrosia.”
In the final act Indra bows to the mother of all beings:
“I bow down to Śrí, the mother of all beings… thou art ambrosia, the purifier of the universe: thou art evening, night, and dawn: thou art power, faith, intellect: thou art the goddess of letters. Thou, beautiful goddess, art knowledge of devotion, great knowledge, mystic knowledge, and spiritual knowledge; which confers eternal liberation.”
At the end of this story we are told that wherever there is God, the mother is as well.
“[For if] the lord of the world, the god of gods… descends amongst mankind (in various shapes), so does his coadjutrix Śrí. Thus when Hari was born as a dwarf, …Lakshmí appeared from a lotus; when he was born as Ráma, she was Dharańí; when he was Rághava, she was Sítá; and when he was Krishńa, she became Rukminí. In the other descents of Vishńu, she is his associate. If he takes a celestial form, she appears as divine; if a mortal, she becomes a mortal too, transforming her own person agreeably to whatever character it pleases Vishńu to put on.”
On a last note, it is a said to be a great blessing to hear this story:
“Whosoever hears this account of the birth of Lakshmí, whosoever reads it, shall never lose the goddess Fortune from his dwelling for three generations; and misfortune, the fountain of strife, shall never enter into those houses in which the hymns to Śrí are repeated.”
It is through dialectical struggle that human consciousness comes into deeper relationship with that which is affirmed (here, the supreme deity), and awareness of that which is negated (here, the mother of all beings). In the story, the deities affirm the supreme deity in their prayers. His answer: to point them toward a task that will bring forth the ‘mother.’
It is only through the struggle between the deities and demons (split off shadow elements) that the ‘mother of all beings’ is known. Both the demons and the deities are necessary for the elixir of immortality. It is a struggle to churn the ocean of milk that brings forth the elixir.
We are neither gods or demons. But within us, the archetypal potentials of the gods and demons play out their divine play. Insofar as we are capable of struggling to learn and grow, we churn the milky sea of consciousness. From this churning, creativity emerges, producing all sorts of beautiful, good, intoxicating things, including the archetypal image of immortality.
Even more, the archetypal elixir of immortality is coincident with ‘the mother of all beings.’ God points to the ‘mother of all’. Harking back to Hegel: wherever we find the affirmed, we also find the negated.
Reference: The Vishnu Purana, translated by Horace Hayman Wilson, (1840), at sacred-texts.com
Jenna Lilla MA PhD BCC