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ellen H. Weiland LCSW
Licensed Clinical Social Worker
Mental Health Practice and Consultation
> Mythic reGenesis II
Mythic reGenesis III
OBJECT FOR THE FOCUSED
PROJECTION OF AN ARCHETYPAL POTENCY
-- MOTHER REUNION --
by ellen Helga Weiland, lcsw
"A myth or mythos is a
narrative or fable having a meaning attached to it other than that
which is obvious when it is taken literally. The term itself is a Greek
one meaning 'word." and hence tale or story. It is related to the root
mu-, derived from the sound made by murmuring through the closed lips,
and with which the words mystery and mystical are connected." [editors
of The Shrine of Wisdom; The Human Soul in the Myths of Plato pp. 11]
"Archetypal: The structure or
the model of the universe. In this instance it refers to the powers of
the divine creator, author of gods and goddesses, who creates the
patterns of existence that we experience as psychological and spiritual
states. ..." [Jean Houston; The Passion of Isis and Osiris: A Union of
Two Souls. pp. 365]
June 1996, United States of America. Would
you believe that for the last week the front page of most newspapers,
many radio shows and multiple TV reports talked about Hillary Clinton
of the White House having conversation with the potency of Eleanore
Roosevelt, former first lady. Poorly in-formed, the media pointed their
fingers, and wagged their tongues indiscriminantly about Dr. Jean
Houston, tagging her with an assortment of labels; all in the service
Many an evolved, experienced and wise,
reporter grasps the reality that each of us has within our capacity,
extended potencies which we, in an effort to access, mold into forms of
known, famous or ancestral persons such as Eleanore Roosevelt, Albert
Einstein, great-grandma, or daddy; Some of us even dare to talk,
through public prayer, with God, and for Christians, His only begotten
son, Jesus Christ.
Some further evolved people allow these
potencies to talk back. Prayer becomes a two way conversation, and an
in-formation exchange. In other words, we receive data from these
potencies which allow us to come into form [in-(to)-form-ation].
Jesus offers a good deal of wisdom and
guidance when we dare to interact and be mindful towards him. Jesus in
fact tells us ...
John 14:12 I tell you the truth, anyone
who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even
greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. [MacBible
2.4, Zondervan, 1991]
conversation with those no longer in body.
Matt. 17:1 After six days Jesus took with
him Peter, James and John the brother of James, and led them up a high
mountain by themselves.
Matt. 17:2 There he was transfigured before them. His face shone like
the sun, and his clothes became as white as the light.
Matt. 17:3 Just then there appeared before them Moses and Elijah,
talking with Jesus. [MacBible 2.4, Zondervan, 1991]
Again I remind you of Jesus' words...
John 14:12 I tell you the truth, anyone
who has faith in me will do what I have been doing. He will do even
greater things than these, because I am going to the Father. [MacBible
2.4, Zondervan, 1991]
Do any of you remember Charlton Heston in The Ten Commandments. He
exemplified a conversation with God most beautifully. And how many of
you have secretly talked to Charlton or his like, in the quiet moments
of your life.
By the way, if any of you take exception to
my suggesting that you can access God or Jesus Christ through inner
energy constellations, consider that God is all the matter and the
energy there is.
If you agree with this supposition, then I
think it illogical, even preposterous to think or believe that you are
other than part of "The All That Is". Each one of us is part of "God".
Each one of us is able to access what we are, by connecting to, and
dialogue with the Godly potencies in which we find our origin.
The question is how do we establish
understandable communication with the potencies? To activate the
capacity for comprehensive dialogue with divinity and its potencies
[for God is "All There Is"], we need the guidance of a Jean Houston or
someone like her, educated, experienced and skilled in addressing not
only the complexity of our body, brain, emotion, mind system but
in-formed in the psycho-spiritual reality as well. It is my sad
experience that many houses of worship employ men and women who have a
good deal of faith, even charisma, but lack the under-standing of how
to effectively empower our God given body, brain, emotion, mind, spirit
system. They mean well, I am certain, but are specialized and
To continue. Some still living cultures and
many individuals randomly form the potencies into various and sundry
animated beings; such as flowers, oak trees, reptiles, butterflies,
lemmings, dogs, wolves, white buffalo [ 1 ]
, or lioness. Entire spiritual disciplines evolve around interaction
with such formulated constructs.
These constructs are housed in iconic [ 2 ]
representations of that cultures divine potencies
In Bali, Indonesia, mothers and dance
instructors send would be dancers to the fields to watch and interact
with the deer and frogs (among others). These students are expected to
learn their assigned animal's movements and behaviors, so that the
dancer can better represent the essence of that animal in his or her
performance. This coming to union with the potencies of animal essence
is a sacred temple event. Anthropological reports are filled with
countless such examples [ 3 ].
Recall please that a large portion of our
population looses itself in conversation and ecstasy with characters
from the big screen such as Elvis Presley, The Beatles, The Grateful
Dead, Gerry Garcia, Red Butler of a former era, or the gods and
goddesses from literature and the archetypal world. I live in Ashland,
Oregon where the Shakespeare Festival is an ever present testament to
the recurrence of archetypal potencies as represented by a master
playwright. Can any of us doubt what was intended when we view the
three witches of Macbeth [Shakespeare]; or the conversations of
Prospero with Aerial in the Tempest? [Shakespeare]
Did you ever, as a child, lie with your back
to the fresh, moist, green spring grass and the warm earth, with your
eyes deeply embedded in the fluffy white clouds riding a so blue sky?
Did you search for recognizable beings among those clouds, and, finding
one, did you ever have an enjoyable and in-form-ative conversation with
that cloud? Or did you ever talk to a pet, and know full well what that
pet was answering?
I remind us of these light moments, these
joyful events, these ecstatic experiences, hoping to bring to the light
of consciousness the almost unanimous experience with, and appeal of
having dialogue with energy constellations rendered in non-material
Going on, the way you may recall such
moments in your life is probably casual, light, almost recreational,
and playful/joyful. All too few adults take this childlike and theatric
play seriously, or give credit to the possibly potent effects such
interaction with various forms can have upon our daily life and in the
manifestation of our future.
Do you grasp that this childlike play may in
fact be the modality, the process designed to facilitate high learning.
In other words, children with full focused attention (called
entrainment) engage an experience. They talk to beings and objects,
real or imaged. In fact, they often become those self same beings.
Children in their formative years, by means of magical thinking,
focusing, and "becoming" while play acting, receive their "in-form-al"
or should I say "in-form-ing" education about much of how the
world/universe works. Our schools could benefit by incorporating these
Jesus Christ called on the non material
forms of Moses and Elijah to teach his disciples something about the
process of living. (see above)
It is my view that any culture which fails
to exercise its capacity to sustain and evolve the high story (myth),
by invoking, engaging and interacting with the high forms (i.e. the
potencies, the archetypes [ 4 ]), will be
stilted, stale and stunted. As God is "All There Is", I see these forms
as the divine ambassadors representing "The All There Is". They come to
serve us, to facilitate our getting on with the business of Godwork.
It is true that we are a nation of egos, and
that ego can also play at creating various forms. I perceive such forms
as small "i" forms that, with a bit of the light of consciousness,
become distinguishable from the divine ambassadors. We can no longer
allow ourselves to abandon the larger story, the Godwork for fear that
ego will interject its devilish small "i's". Instead we must strive to
bring to integrity and to the light, all aspects of ego. That, however,
is the focus for a different writing.
In this work I will begin to recount how I
became phobic towards parental authority--ultimately my own inner
authority--, lost touch with the inner potencies, activated only the
Inner Child--"Home Alone"--with an insufficient self care system, a
good deal of potential and an overwhelming dependence upon external
guidance. I want to illumine how a relationship with an archetype, and
icons for that archetype supported my liberation from that phobia, as
well as my integration with the potencies. This paper is short and so
only gives a smattering of the material.
While I recall, with infinite pleasure the
heavenly moments of my childhood. I also have embedded in me the
experience, the chaos and remaining body of demonic nonsense which was
my legacy from what I call the "1930-1950 German Field of Mother".
We use the word "mother" so
indiscriminately, so laxadasically, so mindlessly. We assume that the
biological vehicle who honored our soul's entry into the form which she
so kindly manifested is "Mother". We burden that person with the full
responsibility of all our needs and a lifetime of expectations. We fail
to cognize or re-cognize that our biological vehicle is the midwife;
and that "Mother" is really so much more than our midwife.
"Mother" is indeed the entire matrix, the
underpinning which allows us to involve ourselves into life as well as
evolve along a spiritual path. "Mother" includes the collective mind
and emotions of family, community, race, and now the planet; the level
of psychospiritual freedom, awareness and integration; the physical
environment with its ability to meet survival needs, the condition of
the land of the air, and of the waters; the political and economic
climate, etc. etc. etc.
All that contained "me" was "mother". The
air I breathed, the milk I sucked from a warm breast, the soldiers hard
goose stepping marching boots, the soft velvety arms holding me, the
blue sky spotted with bombers releasing their falling. whistling bombs,
the sleepless nights, the exploding, burning houses, the moos of cows
in green pastures, and the all pervasive smell of the death of
millions, as well as the stale, blood stained streets; the father come
and gone, the emotions of his wife and lover at his departure, at the
news of his death. The family, confused and grieving, struggling for
silent, unnoticed survival. All this was mother. All this encompassed
the field which I perceived as "not me", the field which sustained me,
the field which became the basis, the foundation of my slope of thought.
When I was a child, so many things were
demonic, chaotic and made no sense. Grandmother, daddy and all were
often times in a "reptilian survival mode" [
5 ] and a stupor of their own. They were hardly in a state of
balance with which to pattern the young. For us, the children, to call
on authority, be they parents, adults or archetypes was dangerous.
Germany's obvious living heroes were anything but heroes. I learned to
avoid adults with a passion. Even held in their arms, I avoided mental
and emotional contact.
What brought me to such a place of avoidance?
Note my birth as example. Yes I remember it
vividly, though no longer painfully. I store images of being in a warm,
wet, dark place, folded and crowded into myself to the point of an
adrenaline high and hormonal confusion. I turned to pushing as I heard
mother's familiar organic symphony quicken to an agonizing race. Then I
felt the cold, as well as the sound of panicky, chaotic screams
emanating from rushing energy patterns all around. I experienced a
great loss of support ... and then ... I sensed myself clinging to a
soundless, pulse less, dead thing; almost holding my infant breath, if
that were possible. While mine was a successful birth, I felt no soft,
gentle welcome into this earth plane. This I could do without, and I
would learn to avoid at all costs.
The senseless facts were I was being born in
a hospital under siege. The air raid sirens warned of incoming bombers.
The hospital crew helped pull me from my mother, cut the cord, swaddled
me, placed me in a wicker basket on a down pillow and ran me from my
mother and the delivery room as fast as possible. I experienced the
energy deprivation of my missing mother who loved me. I imprinted on a
soundless, pulse less dead thing, which was held in the toxic,
screaming, blood wasting surroundings.
I was eighteen months old. Father was home
from the war. He wasn't supposed to be part of the fighting force. He
was an engineer, and after all he and mother had me.
Fathers of newborns did not engage in active duty. There was a paper
error. He was sent to fight in northern France.
Now he was home on furlough. I remember his
warmth, his smile, his dark eyes looking through me. I remember him
playing with me, tossing me into the air, and catching me. Oh how I
laughed, my tummy hurt. Up and catch. Up and catch. Up and .... My head
hit the marble floor with a bang. I was stunned. Mother came screaming,
grabbed me and seeing no blood, placed me into my soft, soundless,
pulse less, dead thing. She shouted at my father. There was a grand
to-do. I awoke and he was gone. I never did see him again. He was shot,
killed in northern France, far from mother and me. Mother's energy was
never the same again. Something in her died, and I learned to avoid her
essential withdrawal and pain.
Frankfurt was bombed, a flaming inferno,
visible for miles and miles. This was our third home gone to ashes.
Always mother ran into the flaming house to save those scraps which
would assist our survival. Harnessed, sitting in my baby buggy I would
focus sharply ("entrain" you call it) on her as she threw clothes and
pots and pans out through the fiery window. With the strength of ten
men she would lift the cast iron, dented, pot bellied stove and toss is
lightly out the window. Those nights the buggy held more than me as she
walked and walked to a nearby town and refuge.
We found a house, seemingly deserted, and
longed to rest. I don't know how much time passed, but there stood
mother with me in her arms, facing a soldier who held his rifle at
point blank range to mothers nose. At two I did not comprehend what
this meant. I did grasp the energy field. It was one to avoid.
I store, calmly now, the image of mother
standing on a third floor window sill, holding me in her left arm out
into the empty air as she threatened to jump if the Burgermeister
[mayor] did not instantly find a safe place for us to live. Strange
world I choose to be born into. Do I avoid or approach this Mother?
Mother worked. I was housed with this one,
and that one. I moved here and there. I began school. Pre-kindergarten,
a place to herd the children to keep them out from underfoot. Each
morning I walked some odd miles to get to school. I carried, as we all
carried, my little metal milk or soup container. Each one had its
little metal cover. We carried them clean and empty for the teacher to
fill with soup or porridge at lunch.
Several times I had tried to run away from
this holding pen. Several times mother or some other mother brought me
back. This place was one to avoid. The energy of the caretakers was
violent and angry denying their un-addressed terror. We children were
the targets for their emotional outbursts. I had no feeling words then.
I just knew this place was not safe.
I remember a girl friend. We often played in
the meadow of the forest. We picked daisies and made chains. Ours were
some happy interludes in a trying time. Her name was Brigitte. One day
she came to school with her container, having forgotten its cover. As
she cued up to get her lunch, teacher discovered the grand error of the
cover less pail. He reached to a nearby tree, pulled off a branch and
beat her with it. Brigitte never came to school again. Nor did we play
in the meadow. She sat with a vacant stare at her window for as long as
I lived in that town.
I recall the very plush, almost Orient
Express train which transported us from Kronberg to Frankfurt, when I
was about five years old. I seem to recall blue velvet covering the
benches in the small compartments. Three people could sit on either
side, facing one another. The windows were large and clean so one could
see the countryside as the train hurried along chanting "Ich can nicht
mehr, Ich can nicht mehr." [I can't go on! I can't go on!]
This particular late, summer afternoon we
boarded the train just in time. We were going to grandmas' house, a
treat for me. Mother directed me to the bench facing the front of the
train. I objected to the point of tears. I did not know why. The seat
facing front right near the window was usually my favorite.
As the train labored along, I became more
and more desperate until I finally I disobeyed the direction to sit
quietly, and in hysterical tears jumped into mothers lap. I
transgressed just in time to avoid the rock, which came crashing though
the window, shattering and disbursing glass all over my bench and the
cabin. I had not seen anyone with a rock. But by the age of five I had
developed my long distance sensing as a survival skill.
I recall this train incident as just one
example of external parental authority directing me to discount my
sensing of and connection to the extended reality. External authority
appeared hell-bent on teaching children to "mind them" to focus our
mind into their chaos. I offered a mind-less obedience while avoiding
contact at all cost. Authority was not worthy of my mind, or so I
thought. I sustained a divide between me and that authority and
maintained that divide internally, long into my adulthood.
Mother worked. She was there and she was
not. At times it was days before I saw her. Always she left
instructions. "Cook this, eat that, wear these clothes, homework here,
sleep then. You are mommy's big girl. I have to work so you can eat.
You have to be mommy for me and take care of you." I think I took her
more seriously than she intended. I was mommy's big girl, and I took
care of me. My smile was sociable, but no one got near, no one got
close to me, not even I.
If there be a place in the brain which
functions as the inner parent, then that place and the remainder of me
were not in communication; not when I was a child, or a teen, or an
adult. I certainly took care of me. I did that from the place of a
I was an Inner Child [ 6 ] "Home Alone "[ 7 ]. I must admit I did a very good job.
No one seemed to perceive the difficulty inherent in my ego formation.
I suppose no one would ever have noticed if it were not for the joy of
the birth of our son.
When I was fifteen I had a dream. I
conceived, within my mind's eye a blond, blue eyed son. He was my son,
to be raised by my blue eyed husband and me. I was not dating, had no
boyfriend, in fact had not even thought about boy friends. But I had
the vision of a child. I knew he would be born when I was twenty five.
Indeed I physically conceived our son in March of 1968. He began to
form within me on the last day of my twenty fifth year.
Parenting Stephen was a painful affair. I
loved him, wanted him, wanted only the best for him, but failed to
relate in a fulfilling way with his infant and childhood needs. I
resonated with his discomforts. I could not articulate the meaning of
that resonance. With the lack of inner integration, and lack of access
to my full capacities, I failed to respond well to Stephen.
I felt my pain become his pain. Deep within
I knew exactly what was going on, but had no language with which to get
help in solving the problem. Doctors laughed at me when I complained.
They suggested I have more children, as though that would dissolve the
I entered therapy, which became a 15 year
effort to restructure my ego. Not once was I encouraged to step beyond
ego, into the archetypal potencies, to effect that restructuring. I
will spare you the long, laborious details of all the talking, all the
approaches, all the labels, all the work, all the learning, facilitated
by more wonderful, willing to help, well trained therapists than I can
remember. At the end of that time, I found myself still dependent upon
an external source to problem solve the various crisis which afflict
One therapist, an incredibly loving and
gentle man, took the time, trouble, and persevered long enough to
uncover and define my process and experience. One day in a fit of
desperation I spend four hours attempting to articulate--with useless
language --that something was not getting touched in the therapeutic
process. I remember still, after the four frustrating and trying hours,
his eyes growing large as he said, "My God, what an extensive subtle
system you have." I had no idea what he meant. He began to work with me
energetically, taking me beyond language [ 8 ],
beyond ego. Just as we began to progress, he died of a fast growing
brain tumor. I was left dumfounded, confused and unclear as to how to
complete the work he and I started. I could not articulate what we had
By this time I had earned two Social Work
degrees and was a successful staff therapist in a renowned national
psychiatric facility. I was and am really very good at what I do. My
interventions made an impact on the most difficult to reach clients.
Families from the surrounding states brought their problems to my
office. My director, desiring to further my skills, paid my way to a
"Jean Houston Workshop". I spent a weekend terrified of the lady behind
the microphone, knowing she could, if she would, get me beyond this
One of the many processes she led that
weekend, was a simple walk backwards while listening to some ancient
Greek music. We were to close our eyes, walk backwards in space and
time until we imaginally met some potency. We were to stop and talk to
I must tell you, that when I began to study
with Jean I was utterly innocent and ignorant of anything mythic or
archetypal. As a matter of fact, I had escaped any normal contact a
youngster might have with the topic of mythology, as a result of my
multiple moves, school shifts, and lack of exposure to consistent
parental presence or adult discussion of such matters.
It is true that I recalled the actor Victor
Mature in a variety of biblical movies. But I never made the connection
between those movies and the broader implication of myth. It is equally
true that I had attended a variety of houses of worship. Not once do I
recall having perceived the biblical characters as mythic with a
potential to be benevolently accessed in the here and now.
Anyway, that weekend I walked backward as
instructed, in a large room with about 400 people. I thought how silly
this all was. I felt someone's hand on my left shoulder and opened my
eyes to tell that person to stop disrupting my silly process. No person
was near by; yet the hand on my left shoulder was clear. I sensed it. I
closed my eyes again and noted the image of a gentle lady, dressed in
long white robes with a blue shawl framing her face and hair, then
hanging over her shoulders and back. The image smiled. Her touch was so
gentle. I dissolved in large wet tears. I did not know what I
encountered, but something touched me deep inside.
I knew I had to continue on this path. I
became a student in the second Human Capacities Program. My hospital
director supported my study and the hospital happily paid for the
I participated when Jean taught us the
process of focusing and imaging on an archetypal potency. She was
demonstrating how she conversed with Athena of the Greek pantheon. On
this occasion I spontaneously found myself staring out from behind the
form and eyes of a large feline whose only instinct at that moment
appeared to be to jump across the room and lick Athena across the face.
Jean was speaking for Athena. I was overwhelmed, but managing to
contain my lioness. I had no idea what was going on. I knew it was an
At home, and at my leisure, I looked deeply
into the experience of being full of lioness. I began an imaginal
relationship with this form, calling her, talking to her, asking
questions, hearing her amazing answers which were validated by
information from books, after the fact.
Sekhmet and Ptah at the Temple of Abidos, Egypt
I discovered this form resembled Sekhmet [ 9 ], the Egyptian lioness-headed goddess
of the Memphis Triad. She represented the protectress of Ra--the light,
and was consort to Ptah--the creator god. Sekhmet was the mental health
potency, the lady of high magic and fierce warrior goddess who fought
to the death when the light (consciousness) was threatened. It seemed
Sekhmet claimed me [ 10 ]. I did not know
enough to call on her in our early explorations of the archetypal world.
With time Sekhmet became my inner teacher
and a mighty task mistress I might add. On some occasions, when I felt
threatened by life's chance happenings, up would pop images of Sekhmet
protecting me as a lioness protects her cubs. Having failed to
internalize images of parental protection, I was pleased at this turn
of my imaginal life, and encouraged such imagery.
I kept journals of our conversations, her
appearance in my night dreams, and discovered that Sekhmet's input
often included data which was not part of my local person. Such data
included knowledge of future events, answers to complex problems,
historic information related to Egypt and her own origins and
functions. I also discovered that my own problem solving ability
extended to depth work in the middle of the night. In other words I
would go to bed, tell Sekhmet what problem I wanted to process, and I
would awaken with answers the next morning.
I was amazed at my increased use of
I perceived an intelligent energy field
related to Sekhmet, which constructively served me, in my daily life. I
would occasionally ponder whether this field was projected from me, or
was separate and idiosyncratic to Sekhmet. I did not dwell on finding
an answer. I simple enjoyed my extended capacities and increased
In working with Sekhmet I remembered the
form of lioness as part of my night dream life when I was only four or
five years old. In retrospect, I was fascinated by the lioness'
recurrent presence during what turned out to be assorted times of need
I remembered waking fearfully as a child,
calling my biological mother, clinging to her and telling her the big
cat was trying to catch me. She answered, "Es ist nur ein Traum,
Kleine," [It is only a dream, little one.] covered me and left me alone
to fend for myself.
I recall sitting up, plotting how to deal
with this fearsome beast. I clearly remember smiling when I had a plan,
lying down and going to sleep once more, only to have the lioness chase
me round about our apartment. I still recall how I allowed her to catch
up to me, then suddenly I turned and razzed her with my dream body [ 11 ] tongue, jumping up and down and
waving my dream body arms. She retreated and stayed at a distance,
though she never fully went away.
I had no idea what I was doing as a child,
that I was lucid dreaming and intentionally using my imaginal body [ 12 ], or that I was interacting with a non
mattered, archetypal potency which never was but always will be. My
memory of that time is so vivid, so clear, and so important a part of
what I understand now after these years of pursuing the mysteries.
Throughout the three year Human Capacities
Program I developed my relationship with Sekhmet. She remained a
non-material, imaginal experience. While I occasionally saw pictures or
icons of her, I was not especially impressed. The icons did not enhance
our relationship. I understood the concept of an icon, and had a brief
encounter with an icon of Mary at a local church. But Sekhmet remained
a potent mental image and experience.
I had visited Egyptian statues at museums
and understood that Robert Masters, Ph.D. owned and ancient statue of
Sekhmet reportedly from the temple of Ramses II. None of that mattered.
By graduation from HCP my relationship with the archetype occurred
during dreams and meditations.
I was excited to continue my studies in Dr.
Houston's creative and extraordinary environment through her program of
cross-cultural and spiritual studies. In 1990 we explored the lives of
remarkable people. Among the many we experienced a weekend dealing with
Ghandi, several with Thomas Jefferson, one with Emily Dickinson, then
Helen Keller. We studied not only humans of extraordinary genius, but
also adventured into the archetypes, that is the persona vitae of
Our weekends as always, are rich; full of
sound, movement, color, artistic and creative expressions. We delve
into history, philosophy, psychology, mythology, and theater--ancient
and sacred. New thoughts are nourished and blossom under the tutelage
of the school's master teachers, and the many peers.
That year we were privileged to have several
gifted artists in our midst, who monthly sculpted and drew a likenesses
of the genius being presented. The subject's icon was created while we
involved ourselves in raising to consciousness the life and what we
knew of the mind of that person or archetypal form.
I remember, for example, the likeness of
Ghandi. After lectures and processes pertaining to Ghandi, his
sculpture was unveiled. I, if not most of us, felt chills running up
and down our spines because his form was so life-like. Through the
artists efforts, Ghandi obtained yet another icon to focus or house his
incorporeal [ 13 ] being" which we
invited and invoked by honoring his genius.
This particular weekend we were going to
explore an archetypal form. As Jean is well versed in Athena, a mythic
form from the Greek pantheon, I assumed we would study Athena and hold
in our presence the icon and potency of that Greek goddess.
Jean's lectures, exciting as always, raised
our energy to a level of anticipated transformation. She walked gently
in the direction of the still clothed sculpture, talking all the while
about the organizing principles of God seen through the archetypes.
As she unveiled the statue, I was shocked
and shaking, facing not Athena, but the statue of Sekhmet. I was caught
off guard, breathless, heart pounding, sobbing and deeply touched when
Jean pulled the cloth from the bronze replica of the several thousand
year old statue.
At this time I want to convey something of
primary importance from my perspective. These may well be the most
important paragraphs of this writing. So read them several times
please, and ponder their significance.
While I enjoyed my adventures with Sekhmet,
found them profound and educational, I still yearned for a mother.
Clearly from my history, I had
unintentionally been deprived of a satisfying parent/child
relationship. Intellectually I understood that history was history and
that I could not change what was. But somewhere, after all these years
of therapy, after all these years of human potential work I still had
not bridged the divide between my inner child (perhaps limbic system)
and my high being--the source of parenting (perhaps neo-cortex). I had
not accepted Sekhmet as the possible source of a permanent supernal
parent. And furthermore, try as I may, I could not stop viewing Jean as
mother. As I perceived no access to my high self (i.e. my divinity), I
projected it out onto Jean every chance I had. This was an involuntary,
and unwanted behavior which made me miserable and did not enhance
Jean's and my relationship.
||Here now stood the statue of Sekhmet,
with Jean not a breath away, and me in torrential tears, with the great
divide, apparent, and wide open. I watched as Jean looked deeply
through me, and as she just lightly touched the statue.
In that one small movement,
that one instant,
that breath of life,
I jumped across consciousness
to secure the connection and the bridge.
My supernal mother and I were one.
Yes she took the form of Sekhmet,
yes I used the icon,
yes I projected out all the energy
which one might normally devote
within a parent/child relationship, to this icon.
Yes all that was true.
What was relevant,
I conquered the divide,
integrated those functions, and states of consciousness,
and from then on felt
I am clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that
no human acting in the role of parent, can ever, after the fact of
childhood, play the living icon for such a transformation. Therapists
can play the roll of nurturing parent for as long as they will; I doubt
that such nurturing will ever facilitate the building of the bridge
across great divide.
It is the meeting of the personal energy
with that of the divine cosmos [the vertical connection] which
transforms the chronological adult-- acting on child capacities, into a
full human, in the image of God, as intended.
Chronological adults functioning out of
child capacities, interacting with other chronological adults, also
functioning out of child capacities, by token of a horizontal
relationship, can not facilitate a transformation into a fully
integrated human "in the image of God".
The fully matured human must place the ego
in its proper position, in relation to that human's extended being and
capacities. The extended human thrives in a larger reality, with
the service of ego. The extended human does not live in the ego,
looking out beyond ego's boundaries at the extended possibilities.
My extreme reaction to this icon, by the
way, was prompted by a visit with the original statue of Sekhmet at
Jean's residence, several weeks earlier. When I was eye to eye with an
icon used to access the potencies since ancient times, I felt lightning
ricochet through me, beyond my body, toward the statue and back again
to me. The entire event occurred so quickly that I thought the energy
came from the statue. I never felt such a powerful energetic current
before and was almost knocked off my feet. My psycho/spiritual balance
was severely disrupted. I avoided this experience by quickly leaving
the room, and the icon's presence. A day later I was sorry I had bolted
out and wished I had a second opportunity to explore this unusual event.
This Mystery School weekend and the presence
of Sekhmet's statue offered me that opportunity. The fact that I viewed
a replica rather than the original, presented food for thought, and
assured me that we were using the molded metal as a point of focus.
My opinion was strengthened when during a
later meditation I noted that the form of the icon was essentially
shapeshifting. The form of her face appeared to change, as did her
position appear to change. The icon was metal, and my logical system
resisted the concept that the metal statue had volition with which to
In meditation I asked Sekhmet, "Why does the
statue change form?" She responded, "I am allowing you to see the icon
shift form so you do not fall in love with the form. I am after all, so
much more than the form."
I asked, "Why then must I use a form at
all?" She replied, "Humans have a limited sensory system. You organize
your understanding by way of forms. Were I to reveal my true self to
you, you would not know how to process me, and would become afraid and
useless to the Godwork. Therefore I address you through the familiar
form, which I have used for many centuries."
The renowned C.G. Jung wrote extensively
about a universal consciousness. He worked with and explored the
archetypes, the personae vitae of the stories which rise out of this
universal consciousness. He saw them as necessary potencies in the
evolution of our personal and cultural being.
Jung tell us...
The term "archetype" occurs as early as
Philo Judaeus, with reference to the Imago Dei (god-image) in man. It
can also be found in Irenaeus, who says: "The creator of the world did
not fashion these things directly from himself but copied them from
archetypes outside himself." In the Corpus Hermeticum, God is called
archetypal light. The term occurs several times in Dionysius the
Areopagite, as for instance in De caelesti hierarchia, II, immaterial
Archetypes, and in De divinis nominibus, Archetypal stone. The tern
archetype is not found in St. Augustine, but the idea of it is. This in
De diversis quaestionibus LXXXIII he speaks of "ideae principales,
'which are themselves not formed...but are contained in the divine
understanding.' ..." [ 14 ]
So we see that the call on
non-mattered beings in the service of humanity has a lengthy and well
documented history, which I suspect has fallen to the wayside in our
"modern" western civilization. It is Dr. Houstons suggestion that we
have become demythologized, and must again re-cognize our larger story
and its evolving myth. It takes people, experienced in the why, who,
what, how, and wherefore of the archetypes to teach and increase the
mythic awareness of a culture. Dr. Houston has shared the results of
her research of thirty years in this and related fields.
In light of the fact that Mrs. Hillary
Clinton, first lady, working with the non-material potency called
Eleanore Roosevelt, was perceived as news, was laughed at and ridiculed
by some public personalities and some of the media; and that a
profoundly talented and internationally renowned teacher and
transformational facilitator, gifted in this area was publicly
diminished with inappropriate labels suggests to me, that our culture
is sadly lacking in awareness and acceptance of a reality so simple and
universal that it was taught two thousand, and many more than two
thousand years ago by Master Teachers including Jesus himself.
Perhaps the issue is beyond "What is Hillary
Clinton doing?" or "What is her relationship with Dr. Jean Houston?"
May be the issue is more about,
Do we ridicule and
diminish those who bring attention to areas in which we, as a nation
are poorly in-formed?
Can the every day
American access these potencies (archetypes) and learn to utilize their
God given human capacities?
How can we of the helping
professions prepare ourselves to facilitate a planetary transformation
and human evolution which includes rather than excludes the beneficence
of the archetypal potencies, ancestral or divine?
the excitement generated several years ago, in the American Indian
Community and those empathic with Indian myths and prophecies at the
birth of a white buffalo calf., which was the expected announcement of
the dawning of a new age.
(í'kon) n.; 1. a picture, image, or other representation.; 2. an image
of Christ, a saint, etc., usu. painted on a wooden panel or done in
mosaics and venerated as sacred in the Eastern Church.; 3. a sign or
representation that stands for something by virtue of a resemblance or
analogy to it; symbol. [1565-75; < L < Gk eikón likeness, image,
figure]; [Random House Webster's Electronic Dictionary and Thesaurus
Ring of Fire, Lawrence and Loran Blare; Park Street Press,
Rochester, 1991; pp. 257
(är'ki típ') n.; 1. the original pattern or model from which all things
of the same kind are copied or on which they are based; prototype.; 2.
(in Jungian psychology) an inherited unconscious idea, pattern of
thought, image, etc., universally present in individual psyches.
[1595-1605; < L archetypum < Gk archétypon, neut. of archétypos
molded first, archetypal = arche- ARCHE - + -typos, adj. der. of typos
mold, TYPE] [Random House Webster's Electronic Dictionary and Thesaurus
to Paul McLean's Triune Brain Theory, and the reptilian
component which silently and tenaciously attends our survival, among
other primitive tasks. Audio Tapes Our Triune Brain by Dee Joy
Coulter, Ed.D., Couter Publications, 1985, Longmont, CO.
to Win, James & Jongeward, Addison-Wesley Publishing Co.,
to the motion picture Home Alone.
"useless language" I mean, words not connected to the "essential
process" of that person.
am fully aware that Sekhmet is viewed by many interested in Egyptian
myth as a destructive aspect of the mother goddess. In some museums she
is even relegated to the back corridors, seldom dusted and poorly
attended. Most books write of her destructive nature, and attribute the
mother's nurturing nature to the goddess Bast. My own experience with
this organizing principle [archetype] has been a most beautiful and
early processes related to the archetypes, this Egyptian form entered
my imaginal realm without my prompting or calling for it. "The
Archetype claimed me."
Body, Arnold Mindell, Sigo Press, 1982.
Possible Human, Jean Houston, J.P. Tarcher, Inc., Los
- spir-it (sp<r2<t) n. Incorporeal consciousness; The soul,
considered as departing from the body of a person at death; The part of
a human being associated with the mind, will, and feelings; The
essential nature of a person or group. [Random House Webster's
Electronic Dictionary and Thesaurus version 1.0]
Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious, CG Jung, translated by
RFC Hull, Bollingern Foundation Inc., NY, 1980, pp.4