Helen Morgan - Living in Two Worlds - How Jungian' Am I
Helen Morgan - Living in Two Worlds - How Jungian' Am I
Helen Morgan - Living in Two Worlds - How Jungian' Am I
Abstract: As a so-called ‘Developmental Jungian’ the author of this paper was raised
bilingual - speaking both psychoanalytic and Jungian languages. Early on in her
training an analysand brought a dream which seemed to capture an inherent tension
regarding the analyst’s role in the analytic relationship. The paper is a personal
exploration of the potentially creative nature of this tension through focussing on the
dream and the work with the dreamer.
Introduction
The starting point for the trajectory along which I have stumbled to reach this
point today was not, unlike many I know, a reading of Memories, Dreams
and Reflections in my formative years which then created the desire to
explore a Jungian training. My original mix was more a combination of
physics and Winnicott, and the consequent trajectory somewhat haphazard. I
began by studying physics at university and then took up a post in a
secondary school on a pretty desolate housing estate in Bristol. There I
became far more interested in the troubles of the more problematic children
in my class than whether they understood the complexities of the electric field
theory. The wish to understand further led me in my late twenties to the
Cotswold Community, a Therapeutic Community based on Winnicottian
concepts working with very disturbed and emotionally damaged boys.
Thrown in at the deep end with adolescents who had experienced appalling
extremes of neglect and abuse, I was faced with the most primitive features of
humanity – including my own.
Encouraged to be in therapy ourselves, through a process that was more
serendipitous than planned, I went weekly to see a classically trained Jungian
analyst. She was lovely and gave me a great deal of much needed care and
attention and we worked a lot with dreams and mythological symbols which
was rich and fascinating. However, boundaries were extremely flexible and
there was hardly any focus on the transference and I felt something important
was missing.
Fascinated with what I was learning at the Community, I decided to come to
London to work in adult mental health and apply to train. Alongside Winnicott,
the theorists I had been introduced to at the Community were mainly
psychoanalytic which, whilst fascinating, seemed to have a sort of ‘nothing
but-ness’ about them. The focus on early developmental factors, primary
relationships, oedipal conflicts, etc. was compelling, but I was drawn to the
more optimistic, growth-seeking, wider perspective that Winnicott offered.
His emphasis on the intersubjective, the relationship between the therapist
and patient, the transitional space and the importance of play in the work
made a lot of sense to me.
The joy of the discipline that is called physics is that it embraces the
exploration of the internal workings of the fundamental particles and the
reactions between them, and the great expanse of the universe. So, turning to
psychology, I sought ways to think about the internal workings of the mind
and the creative constellations of the soul. I wanted to have both the
microscope and the telescope in my toolbox. Seeking a wider
meta-psychology than a psychoanalytic training seemed to offer at that time, I
decided that a Jungian training would provide the closest fit. I began working
with a training analyst in London where I found the experience of
transference work within a clear and boundaried frame revealing. The then-
BAP training attracted me as I wanted to keep my connections with the
psychoanalytic world.
I have no regrets about that choice but, whilst I remain attracted to the
prominence given to the creative and the spiritual in Jung’s writing and his
insistence on the mutuality of the analytic relationship, I have never really
fallen for Jung. He never became ‘mine’ and I never became ‘his’, and I see
myself as less of a soul-mate and more as a ‘critical friend’. My feminist soul
rebelled against his pronouncements about my gender and I was frequently
incensed by his statements on women and the animus. I am somewhat
ashamed that I didn’t then notice the racist aspects of his writing, and it
required black colleagues to help me see and then question the underlying
assumptions in his statements. On both positions we can claim he was a ‘man
of his time’, which indeed he was, but we modern-day Jungians have a
particular difficulty in that these positions are underpinned by a theory of
archetypal structures which are considered to be immutable and unchanging.
This is a real problem which I don’t believe we as a community have begun to
address seriously enough.
But today I have been invited to discuss the analytic relationship and the place
Jung occupies in my consulting room. He is there but he is not alone. As an
analyst trained within and committed to the Developmental School, I inhabit
at least two worlds and speak at least two languages, both of which contain
many dialects. Elsewhere I have written:
How Jungian am I? 315
Living in two worlds is not always easy. At worst we can feel confused, muddled and
unsure of our identity. The danger is that we end up with a mish-mash, a sort of
Franglais which no-one but ourselves can understand. Or we opt for one world,
one language to dominate the other, to adopt the vernacular of the streets, and
then speak our native tongue only when the relatives come to stay. By staying
bilingual, however, there is the possibility of finding and playing in the spaces
between thoughts and images held within a vivid and living repertoire of theoretical
concepts.
(Morgan 2010)
The Dream
Early on in her therapy Carol told the following dream:
Carol was my first training patient and this dream appeared early on in our
work together and, therefore, at the very beginning of my career as an analyst
– over 30 years ago. I am returning to the dream today with the two doctors
in mind as, not only did they represent a fundamental conundrum of Carol’s
internal world and of our relationship, but they also posed the question I
have spent over 30 years working on; what sort of analyst was I to be?
It would be too simplistic and unnuanced to make a direct equation between
the kind and warm GP with a Jungian approach, and the cold, unfeeling
surgeon with a psychoanalytic one, tempting as the stereotypical thinking that
pervades our profession might be. I have met some extremely kindly surgeons
and some very unfriendly GPs. Yet it is the case that in some psychoanalytic
quarters, Jungians are regarded as woolly, too taken with the spiritual at the
expense of the dirty business of hatred, perversion and sex, especially as it
emerges in the transference. On the Jungian side I have often enough heard
316 Helen Morgan
provides a framed canvas onto which unconscious forces can make their mark,
revealing the otherwise hidden aspects of the psyche and early patterns of
relating.
Carol raged against the frame, angry that I charged her for missed sessions,
didn’t tell her anything about myself, lend her books or change session times.
Central to Carol’s psychic geography was her entwined, sadomasochistic
relationship with a mother who would switch entirely unpredictably from
warm cuddles to attack – both verbally and physically. Carol worked hard to
get me to break the frame, to repeat the sadomasochism and to retaliate, and
I worked hard to make sure I didn’t.
Theoretical models
Optimum psychic health entails a free flow, a fluidity along the vertical axis
of the individual psyche. The imperative towards individuation in the
analysand seeks to bring about an internal transformation and we as
analysts must be careful not to block or corrupt such forces through an
over rigid and over reductive approach. However, the various forms of
defences and psychopathology serve to dam the current and deaden the
aliveness of the potentially creative psyche. These are deadly places that suck
the life out of the psychic potential and a proper focus on such aspects
makes possible a freer movement of energy and a sense of new-found
aliveness. ‘Freedom from’ the darker pathological aspects of ourselves takes
us out into the daylight, in order that we might have ‘freedom to’ express
and articulate the self.
It became apparent that Carol’s dream was a rich portrayal of the state of her
internal world. This included a confused and inappropriate triangular
relationship between the dreamer, lover and his wife; a mix of vital fluids,
blood and milk, as well as the breast/vagina, womb/intestine zonal
confusions; and, of course, the appalling dilemma of the mother and baby.
The work required looking backwards in time to Carol’s early years and
what might be called a developmental, causal approach.
I am sure there are Jungian analysts who would be able to think about these
matters through a Jungian lens. The concept of the shadow is key, but it
remains for me too general a term, too wide, insufficiently detailed to help
penetrate the particularities of the individual’s psyche. I need more precise
instruments, and this is where I turn more to the psychoanalytic section of my
bookshelf for help.
In Carol’s case I looked to Freud’s Oedipal theory, Guntrip’s concept of
schizoid phenomena, Meltzer’s thoughts on zonal confusion and Glasser’s
theory of the Core Complex. I was, and am, ever grateful to my training and
to my supervision that I was introduced to such theoretical structures which I
have found – then and ever since – of enormous value.
318 Helen Morgan
Waking up
You will not have missed that central to the dream is the fact that neither the
kindly GP nor the cold surgeon are effective in resolving the problem. The
baby stays entangled in its mother’s guts and removal would bring certain
death to at least one of them. This is a state of affairs that clearly can’t
continue but the dream offers no solution. Something else needs to happen,
some sort of third that transcends the opposites of the dream, an as yet
unimagined development.
In the first year of my work with Carol, despite all the attacks, criticisms
and rages directed towards me, despite the level of her deep distress and
despair, I remained curiously unmoved by her tears or by her attacks. My
countertransference response was mostly detached. I embodied both the
generally friendly concern of the GP and the cold distance of the surgeon
and, whilst I believe I was gaining an intellectual understanding of what was
going on, it was as if I was unconsciously placing a key feature of my
humanity out of reach so it could not be touched by her. I was the clever,
unfeeling surgeon, she the unconscious patient and the baby stayed tangled
up inside.
After fifteen months of therapy, three months short of the minimum training
requirements, Carol announced she was leaving. In those days training patients
were not told that they would be seeing a trainee, so Carol had no conscious
awareness of my very real need for her yet she had found exactly the worst
moment to make this decision to walk away as far as my training was
concerned. Whereas all her previous attacks had had little impact, she had
unwittingly found the very thing that mattered to me, my particular
narcissistic investment in her. This time I felt it.
Her decision to leave was experienced as real and absolute and, alongside a
concern that Carol needed to continue with her therapy, I was left angry and
despairing as I contemplated starting all over again with a new training
patient. My heart sank.
After a miserable few weeks, Carol rang and asked to come back. This time
she had dreamt she was being chased by a rapist. She ran into a court-room
expecting help and found she had run into her own trial where she was the
one accused. She had woken knowing that, however terrible the prospect, she
had to return to therapy with me. From that first meeting she was
overwhelmed with distress and was collapsed and defeated. For the first time
I felt a real and deep sadness for her.
Here I turn to my Jungian language in order that I might reach and attempt an
understanding of the unconscious forces that were activated at this time. Terms
such as the Transcendent Function, mutuality of affect, participation mystique,
conjunctio – all helped in my formulation of an understanding of what went
on concerning the deep connection that was developing between us at a level
way out of sight of both conscious egos. I believe that Carol’s act of leaving
How Jungian am I? 319
can be seen teleologically as a gesture from the self to force us both out of the
despair as described by the dream into a different level of relating. Thus the
surgeon could be allowed her humanity and the patient could wake up.
Tribes
In recent years many psychoanalytic writers have been questioning the primacy
of the intrapsychic perspective, positing instead a more intersubjective,
inter-relational view. On the continent there is an increasing use of the
concept of the analytic field to describe an asymmetrical relationship between
two subjects. It is, these analysts argue, essentially in the unconscious
relationship between that the work takes place. Echoing as this does Jung’s
view of the mutuality of the analytic relationship, this shift clearly opens up a
potential place of real dialogue which I know many are already engaged in.
At the same time in Jungian circles much work has been undertaken by people
such as Cambray, Colman, Knox and others to explore Jungian concepts such as
the archetypes and the collective unconscious from the perspective of
developments in neuroscience, emergent theory, post-modernism etc. This
brings the two tribes of psychoanalysis and Jungian analysis much closer
together and provides a third area where we can meet.
However, the reality is that there is and, I believe, always will be, a
lop-sidedness to the interest in such engagement between the two sides. There
are some psychoanalysts who are interested in debate with us, but most
regard Jungians not with hostility but more with indifference. What we think
just doesn’t matter to them very much. It’s a pity for it means the
psychoanalytic world is cutting itself off from a rich source of thinking. For
us it can be infuriating and narcissistically wounding. Complaining doesn’t
help and I guess all we can do is to keep working on the developments in our
own field, write and publish and ensure there are enough of us available to
call on when the Jungian voice is welcomed.
Fractally speaking, as a clinician I am interested in the development of my
internal languages and concerned to ensure there is a mutuality of
engagement in my own mind between them. I am grateful for a training that
insisted I struggle with the two approaches and hold both in mind. This to me
offers a real space of potential creativity and for developments both within
the consulting room and in application in the external world. ‘Truth’ in this
arena is a flexible, subjective, personal and ever-changing matter and our grip
on any perspective needs not be too tight.
To give Jung the last word … he said that the analyst:
… must decide in every single case whether or not he is willing to stand by a human
being … on what may be a daring misadventure. He must have no fixed ideas about
what is right, nor must he pretend to know what is right … If something which
seems to me an error shows itself to be more effective than a truth, then I must
320 Helen Morgan
follow up the error, for in it lie power and life which I lose if I hold to what seems to
be true.
(Jung 1969, para. 530)
References
Morgan, H. (2010) ‘Frozen Harmonies: Petrified Places in the Analytic Field.’ British
Journal of Psychotherapy, 26, 1, pp.33-49.
Jung, C.G. (1969) ‘Psychology and Religion’ CW 11.
TRANSLATIONS OF ABSTRACT
Como ‘Junguiana del Desarrollo’, la autora del presente trabajo creció bi-lingue
– hablando ambos lenguajes, psicoanalítico y Junguiano. En los inicios de su
formación, un analizando trajo un sueño el cual parecía capturar la tensión inherente
entre ambos, respecto del rol del analista en la relación analítica. El ensayo es una
exploración personal de la potencial naturaleza creativa de esta tensión a través del
trabajo focalizado en el sueño y con el soñante.
活在两个世界:我有多“荣格”?
作为所谓的 “发展型荣格学者”, 作者是在双语环境下成长的, 这包括精神分析的语言和
荣格流派的语言。在她接受训练早期, 一位受分析者带来一个梦, 梦中似乎包含了关于
分析关系中分析师角色的一种张力。这篇文章是一个个人的探索, 通过关注这位梦者的
梦境及其分析工作, 探讨了这一张力中潜在的、创造性的本质。
关键词: “发展型荣格学者”
, 理论模型, 训练