Archive for the ‘C.G. Jung’ Category

Collected 7 集体无意识的原型 96

September 22, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格


156 That would be to create a permanent state of dissociation, a
split between the individual and the collective psyche. On the one side we should have the differentiated modern ego, and on the other a sort of negroid culture, a very primitive state of affairs. We should have, in fact, what actually exists-a veneer of civilization over a dark-skinned brute; and the cleavage would be clearly demonstrated before our eyes. But such a dissociation requires immediate synthesis and the development of what has remained undeveloped.


There must be a union of the two parts; for, failing that, there is no doubt how the matter would be de¬cided: the primitive man would inevitably lapse back into re¬pression. But that union is possible only where a still valid and therefore living religion exists, which allows the primitive man adequate means of expression through a richly developed sym¬bolism. In other words, in its dogmas and rites, this religion must possess a mode of thinking and acting that harks back to the most primitive level. Such is the case in Catholicism, and this is its special advantage as well as its greatest danger.


157 Before we go into this new question of a possible union, let
us return to the dream from which we started. This whole dis¬cussion has given us a wider understanding of the dream, and particularly of one essential part of it-the feeling of fear. This fear is a primitive dread of the contents of the collective uncon¬scious. As we have seen, the patient identifies herself with Mrs. X, thereby showing that she also has some relation to the myste¬rious artist. It proved that the doctor was identified with the artist, and further we saw that on the subjective level I became an image for the figure of the magician in the collective uncon¬scious.


6 Cf. “Archetypes of the Collective Unconscious,” pars. 74ff.

All this is covered in the dream by the symbol of the crab, which walks backwards. The crab is the living content of the unconscious, and it cannot be exhausted or made ineffective by analysis on the objective level. We can, however, separate the mythological or collective psychic contents from the objects of consciousness, and consolidate them as psychological realities outside the individual psyche. Through the act of cognition we “posit” the reality of the archetypes, or, more precisely, we pos¬tulate the psychic existence of such contents on a cognitive basis. It must emphatically be stated that it is not just a question of cognitive contents, but of transubjective, largely autonomous psychic systems which on that account are only very condition-ally under the control of the conscious mind and for the most part escape it altogether.

所有这一切被涵盖在螃蟹的象征里, 螃蟹往后行走。螃蟹是无意识的活生生的内容。客观层次的精神分析无法穷尽它的涵义或让它没有效力。可是,我们能够分开神话或集体的心灵的内容,跟意识到客体,并且将它们团结,作为心灵的现实,外在于个人的心灵。通过认知的行动,我们“假设”原型的现实。或者,更加确实地说,我们假设这些内容具有心灵的存在,在认知的基础上。我们必须强调地陈述:问题并不仅是认知的内容,而是跨越主观性的内容,主要是具有自主权的心灵的系统。因为那个缘故,具有自主权的心灵的内容仅是有条件地受到意识心灵的控制。它们大部分也一块逃避意识心灵的控制。

So long as the collective unconscious and the individual psyche are coupled together without being differentiated, no progress can be made; or, to speak in terms of the dream, the boundary cannot be crossed. If, despite that, the dreamer makes ready to cross the border-line, the unconscious becomes acti-vated, seizes her, and holds her fast. The dream and its material characterize the collective unconscious partly as a lower animal that lives hidden in the depths of the water, and partly as a dan¬gerous disease that can be cured only by a timely operation. To what extent this characterization is apt has already been seen.


As we have said, the animal symbol points specifically to the extra¬human, the transpersonal; for the contents of the collective un¬conscious are not only the residues of archaic, specifically human modes of functioning, but also the residues of functions from man’s animal ancestry, whose duration in time was infinitely greater than the relatively brief epoch of specifically human existence.


7 In his philosophical dissertation on Leibniz’s theory of the unconscious (Das Unbewusste bei Leibniz in Beziehung zu modernen Theorien), Canz has used the engram theory of R. W. Semon to explain the collective unconscious. The concept of the collective unconscious advanced by me coincides only at certain points with Semon’s concept of the phylogenetic mneme. Cf. Semon, Die Mneme als erhaltendes Prinzip im Wechsel des organischen Geschehens (1904); trans. by L. Simon as The Mneme.


These residues, or “engrams,” as Semon calls them,7 are extremely liable, when activated, not only to retard the pace of development, but actually to force it into regression until the store of energy that activated the unconscious has been used up. But the energy becomes serviceable again by being brought into play through man’s conscious attitude towards the collective un¬conscious. The religions have established this cycle of energy in a concrete way by means of ritual communion with the gods.


This method, however, is too much at variance with our intel¬lectual morality, and has moreover been too radically sup¬planted by Christianity, for us to accept it as an ideal, or even possible, solution of the problem. If on the other hand we take the figures of the unconscious as collective psychic phenomena or functions, this hypothesis in no way violates our intellectual conscience. It offers a rationally acceptable solution, and at the same time a possible method of effecting a settlement with the activated residues of our racial history. This settlement makes the crossing of previous boundaries altogether feasible and is therefore appropriately called the transcendent function. It is synonymous with progressive devc!opment towards a new atti¬tude.


160 The parallel with the hero-myth is very striking. More often
than not the typical struggle of the hero with the monster (the unconscious content) takes place beside the water, perhaps at a ford. This is the case particularly in the Redskin myths with which Longfellow’s Hiawatha has made us familiar. In the deci¬sive battle the hero is, like] onah, invariably swallowed by the monster, as Frobenius has shown8 with a wealth of detail.


But, once inside the monster, the hero begins to settle accounts with the creature in his own way, while it swims eastwards with him towards the rising sun. He cuts off a portion of the viscera, the heart for instance, or some essential organ by virtue of which the monster lives (i.e., the valuable energy that activates the uncon¬Kious). Thus he kills the monster, which then drifts to land, where the hero, new-born through the transcendent function (the “night sea journey,” as Frobenius calls it), steps forth, sometimes in the company of all those whom the monster has previously devoured. In this manner the normal state of things is restored, since the unconscious, robbed of its energy, no longer occupies the dominant position. Thus the myth graphi¬8 Frobenius, Das Zeitalter des Sonnengottes.
cally describes the problem which also engages our patient.9

但是,一旦在怪物里面,英雄开始用他自己的方式,跟怪物达成妥协。当怪物带着它游泳朝向东边,朝向上升的太阳。他切割掉他的内脏的一部分,譬如,心脏。或某个基本的器官。凭借这个基本的器官,怪物活着( 也就是,触动无意识的宝贵的来源)。因此,他杀死怪物,这怪无因此漂浮到岸边。在那里,经由超验的功能,英雄重新诞生(‘夜晚的海洋之旅“如同弗洛边尼斯称呼它,)步走出来,有时被怪物先前吞没的那些人们伴随。以这种方式,事情的正常状态被恢复,因为无意识被剥夺掉它的能源,不再佔据优势的位置。因此,神话生动地描述也让我们的病人著迷的难题。


Collected 7 集体无意识的原型 94

September 21, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology

Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格


151 There is nothing for it but to recognize the irrational as a
necessary, because ever-present, psychological function, and to take its contents not as concrete realities-that would be a regres¬sion!-but as psychic realities, real because they work. The col¬lective unconscious, being the repository of man’s experience and at the same time the prior condition of this experience, is an image of the world which has taken aeons to form. In this image certain features, the archetypes or dominants, have crystallized out in the course of time.


They are the ruling powers, the gods, images of the dominant laws and principles, and of typical, regu¬larly occurring events in the soul’s cycle of experience.s In so far as these images are more or less .faithful replicas of psychic events, their archetypes, that is, their general characteristics which have been emphasized through the accumulation of simi¬lar experiences, also correspond to certain general characteristics of the ph ysical world. Archetypal images can therefore be taken metaphorically, as intuitive concepts for physical phenomena. For instance, aether) the primordial breath or soul-substance, is a concept found all over the world, and energy) or magical power, is an intuitive idea that is equally widespread.


152 On account of their affinity with physical phenomena,4 the
archetypes usually appear in projection; and, because projec¬tions are unconscious, they appear on persons in the immediate environment, mostly in the form of abnormal over- or under¬valuations which provoke misunderstandings, quarrels, fanati¬cisms, and follies of every description. Thus we say, “He makes a god of so-and-so,” or, “So-and-so is Mr. X’s bete noire.” In this way, too, there grow up modern myth-formations, Le., fantastic rumours, suspicions, prejudices.


The archetypes are therefore exceedingly important things with a powerful effect, meriting our closest attention. They must not be suppressed out of hand, but must be very carefully weighed and considered, if only because of the danger of psychic infection they carry with them.


S As indicated earlier (par. 109), the archetypes may be regarded as the effect and deposit of experiences that have already taken place, but equally they appear a& the factors which cause such experiences.
4 Cf. “The Structure of the Psyche,” pars. 325ff•

Since they usually occur as projections, and since these only at¬tach themselves where there is a suitable hook, their evaluation and assessment is no light matter. Thus, when somebody pro¬jects the devil upon his neighbour, he does so because this person has something about him which makes the attachment of such an image possible. But this is not to say that the man is on that account a devil; on the contrary, he may be a particularly good fellow, but antipathetic to the maker of the projection, so that a “devilish” (i.e., dividing) effect arises between them.

Nor need the projector necessarily be a devil, although he has to recognize that he has something just as devilish in himself, and has only stumbled upon it by projecting it. But that does not make him a devil; indeed he may be just as decent as the other man. The appearance of the devil in such a case simply means that the two people are at present incompatible: for which reason the uncon¬scious forces them apart and keeps them away from each other. The devil is a variant of the “shadow” archetype, i.e., of the dangerous aspect of the unrecognized dark half of the personal¬ity.


One of the archetypes that is almost invariably met with in the projection of unconscious collective contents is the “magic demon” with mysterious powers. A good example of this is Gus¬tav Meyrink’s Golem) also the Tibetan wizard in the same au¬thor’s Fledermiiuse) who unleashes world war by magic. N atu¬rally Meyrink learned nothing of this from me; he brought it independently out of his unconscious by clothing in words and imagery a feeling not unlike the one which my patient had pro¬jected upon me. The magician type also figures in Zarathustra) while in Faust he is the actual hero.


The image of this demon forms one of the lowest and most ancient stages in the conception of God. It is the type of primi¬tive tribal sorcerer or medicine-man, a peculiarly gifted person¬ality endowed with magical power.5 This figure often appears as dark-skinned and of mongoloid type, and then it represents a negative and possibly dangerous aspect. Sometimes it can hardly be distinguished, if at all, from the shadow; but the more the magical note predominates, the easier it is to make the distinc¬tion, and this is not without relevance in so far as the demon can also have a very positive aspect as the “wise old man.” 6

5 The idea of the medicine-man who communes with spirits and wields magical powers is so deeply ingrained in many primitives that they even believe “doc¬tors” are to be found among animals. Thus the Achomawi of northern Califor• nia speak of ordinary coyotes and of “doctor” coyotes.


155 The recognition of the archetypes takes us a long step for-
wards. The magical or daemonic effect emanating from our neighbour disappears when the mysterious feeling is traced back to a definite entity in the collective unconscious. But now we have an entirely new task before us: the question of how the ego is to come to terms with this psychological non-ego. Can we rest content with establishing the real existence of the archetypes, and simply let things take care of themselves?



Collected 7 集体无意识的原型 92

September 19, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格


46 This remark throws an explanatory light on what has hap-
pened: I have taken the place of the friend. The friend has been overcome. The ice of the repression is broken and the patient has entered a new phase of life without knowing it. Now I know that all that was painful and bad in her relation with her friend will devolve upon me, as well as all the good, but it will be in violent conflict with the mysterious x which the patient has never been able to master. A new phase of the transference has started, although it does not as yet clearly reveal the nature of the x that has been projected upon me.

7 One thing is certain: if the patient gets stuck in this form
of transference, the most troublesome misunderstandings lie ahead, for she will be bound to treat me as she treated her friend

-in other words, the x will be continually in the air giving rise to misunderstandings. It will inevitably turn out that she will see the demon in me, since she cannot accept it in herself. All insoluble conflicts come about in this fashion. And an insoluble conflict means bringing life to a standstill.

有一件事情是确定: 假如病人被卡陷在移情的这个形式,最麻烦的误解隐藏在前头。因为她将会被迫对待我,如同她对待她的朋友。换句话说,这个x将会继续出现在幻想里,产生误解。结果无可避免地将会是,她将会看见我身上的这个恶魔。因为她无法接受它,在她自己身上。所有无法被解救的冲突以这种方式发生。一个无法解决的冲突意味着,让生命停顿下来。

148 Or another possibility: the patient could use her old defence
mechanism against this new difficulty and could simply ignore the point of obscurity. That is to say, she could begin repressing again, instead of keeping things conscious, which is the necessary and obvious demand of the whole method. But nothing would be gained by this; on the contrary, the x now threatens from the unconscious, and that is far more unpleasant.


149 Whenever such an unacceptable content appears, we must
consider carefully whether it is a personal quality at all. “Magi¬cian” and “demon” may well represent qualities whose very names make it instantly clear that these are not human and per¬sonal qualities but mythological ones. Magician and demon are mythological figures which express the unknown, “inhuman” feeling that swept over the patient. They are attributes not in any sense applicable to a human personality, although, as intui¬tive judgments not subjected to closer criticism, they are con¬stantly being projected upon our fellow men, to the very great detriment of human relations.


15° These attributes always indicate that contents of the trans-
personal or collective unconscious are being projected. Personal memories cannot account for “demons,” or for “wicked magi¬cians,” although everyone has, of course, at one time or another heard or read of these things. We have all heard of rattlesnakes, but we do not call a lizard or a blindworm a rattlesnake and display the corresponding emotions merely because we have been startled by the rustling of a lizard or a blindworm. Simi¬larly, We do not call one of our fellows a demon unless there really is something demonic in his effect upon us.


But if this effect were truly a part of his personal character, it would show itself everywhere, and then the man would be a demon indeed, a Sort of werewolf. But that is mythology, i.e., collective psyche, and not individual psyche. In so far as through our unconscious We have a share in the historical collective psyche, we live natu¬r~lly and unconsciously in a world of werewolves, demons, magi¬Clans, ete., for these are things which all previous ages have in-

vested with tremendous affectivity. Equally we have a share in gods and devils, saviours and criminals; but it would be absurd to attribute these potentialities of the unconscious to ourselves personally. It is therefore absolutely essential to make the sharp¬est possible demarcation between the personal and the imper¬sonal attributes of the psyche.


This is not to deny the sometimes very formidable existence of the contents of the collective un¬conscious, but only to stress that, as contents of the collective psyche, they are opposed to and different from the individual psyche. Simple-minded folk have never, of course, separated these things from their individual consciousness, because the gods and demons were not regarded as psychic projections and hence as contents of the unconscious, but as self-evident reali¬ties. Only in the age of enlightenment did people discover that the gods did not really exist, but were simply projections. Thus the gods were disposed of. But the corresponding psychological function was by no means disposed of; it lapsed into the uncon¬scious, and men were thereupon poisoned by the surplus of li¬bido that had once been laid up in the cult of divine images.

The devaluation and repression of so powerful a function as the religious function naturally have serious consequences for the psychology of the individual. The unconscious is prodigiously strengthened by this reflux of libido, and, through its archaic collective contents, begins to exercise a powerful influence on the conscious mind. The period of the Enlightenment closed, as we know, with the horrors of the French Revolution.

And at the present time, too, we are once more experiencing this uprising of the unconscious destructive forces of the collective psyche. The result has been mass-murder on an unparalleled scale.2 This is precisely what the unconscious was after. Its position had been immeasurably strengthened beforehand by the rationalism of modern life, which, by depreciating everything irrational, precipitated the function of the irrational into the unconscious.


But once this function finds itself in the unconscious, it works unceasing havoc, like an incurable disease whose focus cannot be eradicated because it is invisible. Individual and nation alike are then compelled to live the irrational in their own lives, even devoting their loftiest ideals and their best wits to expressing its madness in the most perfect form. We see the same thing in 2 Written in 1916; superfluous to remark that it is still true today [1943]•

THE ARCHETYPES OF THE COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS miniature in our patient, who fled from a course of life that seemed to her irrational-Mrs. X-only to act it out in patholog¬ical form, and with the greatest sacrifices, in her relations with her friend.



Collected 7 集体无意识的原型 90

September 19, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格

We are now faced with the task of raising to the subjective level the phenomena which have so far been understood on the objective level. For this purpose we must detach them from the object and take them as symbolical exponents of the patient’s subjective complexes. If we try to interpret the figure of Mrs. X on the subjective level, we must regard it as the personification of a part-soul, or rather of a certain aspect of the dreamer.


Mrs. X then becomes an image of what the patient would like to be, and yet fears to be. She represents, as it were, a partial picture of the patient’s future character. The fascinating artist cannot so easily be raised to the subjective level, because the unconscious artistic capacity lying dormant in the patient is already taken up by Mrs. X. It would, however, be correct to say that the artist is the image of the patient’s masculinity which is not consciously realized and therefore lies in the unconscious. 1 This is true in the sense that the patient does in fact delude herself in this mat¬ter. In her own eyes she is quite remarkably fragile, sensitive, and feminine, and not in the least masculine. She was therefore indignantly amazed when I pointed out her masculine traits. But the strange, fascinating element is out of keeping with these traits. It seems to be entirely lacking to them. Yet it must be hiding somewhere, since she produced this feeling out of herself.


Whenever such an element is not to be found in the dreamer himself, experience tells us that it is always projected. But upon whom? Is it still attached to the artist? He has long since disap-peared from the patient’s purview and cannot very well have taken the projection with him, since it lies anchored in the un-
1 I have called this masculine element in woman the animus and the correspond-ing feminine element in man the anima. See infra, pars. 296-340; also Emma Jung, “On the。Nature of the Animus.”


THE ARCHETYPES OF THE COLLECTIVE UNCONSCIOUS conscious of the patient, and moreover she had no personal rela¬tion with this man despite his fascination. For her he was more a figure of fantasy. No, a projection of this kind is always topical, that is, somewhere there must be somebody upon whom this content is projected, otherwise she would be palpably aware of it in herself.


At this point we come back to the objective level, for with¬out it we cannot locate the projection. The patient does not know any man who means anything special to her, apart from myself; and as her doctor I mean a good deal. Presumably there-fore this content is projected on to me, though I had certainly noticed nothing of the sort. But these subtler contents never ap-pear on the surface; they always come to light outside the con-sulting hour.


I therefore asked her cautiously, “Tell me, how do I seem to you when you are not with me? Am I just the same?” She said, “When I am with you, you are quite pleasant, but when I am by myself, or have not seen you for some time, the picture I have of you changes in a remarkable way. Sometimes you seem quite idealized, and then again different.” Here she hesitated, and I prompted her: “In what way different?” Then she said, “Sometimes you seem rather dangerous, sinister, like an evil magician or a demon. I don’t know how I ever get such ideas-you are not a bit like that.”


So the content was fixed on me as part of the transference, and that is why it was missing from her psychic inventory. Here we recognize another important fact: I was contaminated (iden-tified) with the artist, so in her unconscious fantasy she natu-rally plays the role of Mrs. X with me. I could easily prove this to her with the help of the material-sexual fantasies-previously brought to light. But I myself am then the obstacle, the crab that prevents her from getting across. If, in this particular case, we were to confine ourselves to the objective level, the position would be very tricky. What would be the good of my explaining, “But I am not this artist in any sense, I am not in the least sinis-ter, nor am I an evil magician!” That would leave the patient quite cold, for she knows that just as well as I do. The projection continues as before, and I really am the obstacle to her further progress.


It is at this point that many a treatment comes to a standstill.
There is no way of getting out of the toils of the unconscious,

except for the doctor to raise himself to the subjective level and to acknowledge himself as an image. But an image of what? Here lies the greatest difficulty of all. “Well now,” the doctor will say, “an image of something in the unconscious of the pa¬tient.” Whereupon she will say, “What, so I am a man, and a sinister, fascinating man at that, a wicked magician or demon? Not on your life! I cannot accept that, it’s all nonsense. I’d sooner believe this of you!”


She is right: it is preposterous to transfer such things to her. She cannot accept being turned into a demon any more than the doctor can. Her eyes flash, an evil expression creeps into her face, the gleam of an unknown resist¬ance never seen before. I am suddenly faced by the possibility of a painful misunderstanding. What is it? Disappointed love? Does she feel offended, depreciated? In her glance there lurks something of the beast of prey, something really demoniacal. Is she a demon after all? Or am I the beast of prey, the demon, and is this a terrified victim sitting before me, trying to defend her¬self with the brute strength of despair against my wicked spells?


All this must surely be nonsense-fantastic delusion. What have I touched? What new chord is vibrating? Yet it is only a passing moment. The expression on the patient’s face clears, and she says, as though relieved, “It is queer, but just now I had a feel¬ing you had touched the point I could never get over in relation to my friend. It’s a horrible feeling, something inhuman, evil, cruel. I simply cannot describe how queer this feeling is. It makes me hate and despise my friend when it comes, although I struggle against it with all my might.”



Collected 7 综合方法 87

September 18, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格

135 But the patient had drawn quite a different conclusion from
the fate of Mrs. X. She had taken the latter’s sudden grave illness and early death as the punishment of fate for the gay life which, without admitting it, the patient had always envied. When Mrs. X died, the patient made a very long moral face which concealed an all-too-human malicious satisfaction. To punish herself for this, she continually used the example of Mrs. X to scare herself away from life and all further development, and burdened her¬self with the misery of an unsatisfying friendship. Naturally this whole sequence of events had never been clear to her, other¬wise she would never have acted as she did. The rightness of this surmise was easily verified from the material.


136 The story of this identification by no means ends here. The
patient subsequently emphasized that Mrs. X possessed a not in-considerable artistic capacity which developed only after her husband’s death and then led to her friendship with the artist. This fact seems to be one of the essential reasons for the identifi¬cation, if we remember that the patient had remarked what a strong and peculiarly fascinating impression the artist had made upon her. A fascination of this kind is never exercised exclu¬sively by one person upon another; it is always a phenomenon of relationship, which requires two people in so far as the person fascinated necessarily has a corresponding disposition. But the disposition must be unconscious, or no fascination will take place. Fascination is a compulsive phenomenon in the sense that it lacks a conscious motive; it is not a voluntary process, but something that rises up from the unconscious and forcibly ob¬trudes itself upon the conscious mind.


137 It must therefore be assumed that the patient has an uncon-

scious disposition similar to that of the artist. Accordingly she is also identified with a man.7 We recall the analysis of the dream, where we met an allusion to the “masculine” foot. And in fact the patient does play a masculine role with her friend; she is the active one who always sets the tone, who bosses her friend and sometimes actually forces her to do something she alone wants. Her friend is distinctly feminine, even in external appearance, while the patient is clearly of a somewhat masculine type. Her voice too is strong and deeper than her friend’s. Mrs. X is de-scribed as a very feminine woman, comparable to her friend, so the patient thinks, in gentleness and affectionateness. This gives us another clue: in her friend, the patient obviously plays the same role that the artist played with Mrs. X. Thus she unconsciously completes her identification with Mrs. X and her lover, and thus, in spite of all, she gives expression to the frivo¬lous streak in her which she had so anxiously repressed. But she is not living it consciously, she is rather the plaything of this unconscious tendency; in other words, she is possessed by it, and has become the unconscious exponent of her complex.


138 We now know very much more about the crab: it contains
the inner psychology of this untamed bit of libido. The uncon¬scious identifications keep drawing her down further and fur¬ther. They have this power because, being unconscious, they are not open to insight or correction. The crab is therefore the sym¬bol for the unconscious contents. These contents are always try¬ing to draw the patient back into her relations with her friend. (The crab walks backwards.) But the connection with her friend is synonymous with disease, for through it she became neurotic.


139 Strictly speaking, all this really belongs to the analysis on the
objective level. But we must not forget that we came into posses¬sion of this knowledge only by making use of the subjective level, which thus proves to be an important heuristic principle. For practical purposes we might rest content with the results so far reached; but we have to satisfy the demands of theory: not all the associations have yet been evaluated, nor has the significance of the choice of symbol yet been sufficiently explained.


140 We shall now take up the patient’s remark that the crab lay
7 I am not overlooking Ihe fact that the deeper reason for her identification with the artist lies in a certain creative aptitude on the part of the patient.


hidden in the water and that she did not see it at first. Nor did she see, at first, the unconscious relations which we have just discussed; they too lay hidden in the water. The river is the ob¬stacle that prevents her from crossing to the other side. It is pre¬cisely these unconscious relations, binding her to her friend, that prevented her. The unconscious was the obstacle. Thus the water signifies the unconscious, or rather, the state of uncon¬sciousness, of concealment; for the crab too is something uncon-scious, in fact it is the dynamic content that lies concealed in its depths.



Collected 7 综合方法 85

September 17, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格

The synthetic (constructive) interpretation:
132 The patient is unconscious of the fact that the obstacle to be
overcome lies in herself: namely, a boundary-line that is difficult to cross and hinders further progress. Nevertheless it is possible to pass the barrier. But a special and unexpected danger looms up just at this moment-something “animal” (non-human or subhuman), which moves backwards and downwards, threaten¬ing to drag with it the whole personality of the dreamer. This danger is like a deadly disease that begins in some secret place and is incurable (overpowering). The patient imagines that her friend is hindering her and trying to drag her down. So long as she believes this, she must go on trying to “uplift” her friend, educate and improve her; she has to make futile and senselessly idealistic efforts to stop herself from being dragged down. Natu¬rally her friend makes similar efforts too, for she is in the same pass as the patient. So the two keep jumping at each other like fighting cocks, each trying to get the upper hand.

病人并不知道这个事实:应该被克服的阻碍就在于她自己。换句话说,一个很困难跨越的边界,这个边界阻碍更进一步的进展。可是,通过这个阻碍是可能的.但是,一个特别而出乎意料的危险隐约出现,就在某件“动物”的东西(非-人类或次-人类), 它往后与往下移动,威胁要将作梦者的整个的人格随着拖拉下去。这个危险就像是致命的疾病,在某个秘密的地方开始,并且是无法被治疗(压倒性)。病人想像,她的朋友正在阻碍她,并且尝试将她拖拉下来。只要她相信这个,她就必须继续尝试“提升”她的朋友,教育并且改进她。她必须从事徒劳而没有意义的理想的努力,为了阻止她自己不要被拖拉下去。当然,她的朋友也从事类似的努力。因为她跟病人处于相同的处境。所以,这两个人继续像斗鸡一样,互相攻击。每一个人都尝试佔上风。

And the higher the pitch the one screws herself up to, the fiercer become the self-torments of the other. Why? Because each thinks the fault lies in the other, in the object. Interpretation on the sub¬jective level brings release from this folly; for the dream shows the patient that she has something in herself which prevents her from crossing the boundary, i.e., from getting out of one situa¬tion or attitude into another.


The interpretation of a change of place as a change of attitude is corroborated by forms of speech in certain primitive languages, where, for example, “I am think¬ing of going” is expressed as “I am at the place of (on the point of) going.” To make the language of dreams intelligible we need numerous parallels from the psychology of primitive and historical symbolism, because dreams spring essentially from the unconscious, which contains remnants of the functional possibil¬ities of all preceding epochs of evolution. A classical example of this is the “Crossing of the Great Water” in the oracles of the I ehing.

位置的改变的解释,作为态度的改变,获得某些的原始的语言里,言说的各种形式的合作。譬如,「我正在想要去、、、」被表达作为「我处于或正要去的位置、、、」。为了让梦的语言可以理解,我们需要无数的并列的东西,从原始与历史的象征主义的心理学。因为梦基本上是从无意识出来。无意识则是包含进化的一切先前的时代的功能的可能性的残余物。关于这点的经典的例子是「利涉大川」,在” 易经“的预言里。

6 Cf. “On Psychological Understanding,” Elsewhere I have called this procedure the “hermeneutic” method; cf. infra, pars. 493fI.

133 Obviously, everything now depends on what is meant by the
crab. We know in the first place that it is something connected with the friend (since the patient associates it with her friend), and also something connected with her mother. Whether mother and friend really have this quality is irrelevant so far as the patient is concerned. The situation can be changed only by the patient changing herself.


Nothing can be changed in the mother, for she is dead. And the friend cannot be nagged into changing. If she wants to change, that is her own affair. The fact that the quality in question is connected with the mother points to something infantile. What, then, is there in common in the patient’s relation to her mother and to her friend? The common factor is a violent, sentimental demand for love, so impassioned that she feels herself overwhelmed.


This demand has the charac¬ter of an overpowering infantile craving which, as we know, is blind. So we are dealing with an undisciplined, undifferenti-ated, and not yet humanized part of the libido which still pos¬sesses the compulsive character of an instinct, a part still un¬tamed by domestication. For such a part some kind of animal is an entirely appropriate symbol. But why should the animal be a crab? The patient associates it with cancer, of which disease Mrs. X died at about the same age as that now reached by the patient herself. So there may be a hint of identification with Mrs. X. We must therefore follow this up. The patient relates the following facts about her: Mrs. X was widowed early; she was very merry and full of life; she had a series of adventures with men, and one in particular with an extremely gifted artist whom the patient knew personally and who always impressed her as remarkably fascinating and strange.


134 An identification can occur only on the basis of some unreal-
ized, i.e., unconscious, similarity. Now in what way is our pa¬tient similar to Mrs. X? Here I was able to remind the patient of a series of earlier fantasies and dreams which had plainly shown that she too had a frivolous streak in her, and one which she always anxiously repressed, because she feared this dimly appre¬hended tendency in herself might betray her into leading an im¬moral life. With this we have made a further important contri¬bution towards understanding the “animal” element; for once more we come upon the same untamed, instinctual craving, but this time directed towards men.



And we have also discovered another reason why she cannot let go of her friend: she must cling to her so as not to fall victim to this other tendency, which seems to her much more dangerous. Accordingly she remains at the infantile, homosexual level, because it serves her as a de¬fence. (Experience shows that this is one of the most potent mo¬tives for clinging to unsuitable infantile relationships.) In this animal element, however, also lies her health, the germ of a fu¬ture sound personality which will not shrink from the hazards of life.



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September 16, 2015

Collected 7
Analytical Psychology
Carl Jung
卡尔 荣格

Analytical (causal-reductive) interpretation:’1
128 This interpretation can be summed up in one sentence: “I
see well enough that I ought to cross the river (that is, give up relations with my friend), but I would much rather that my friend did not let me out of her clutches (i.e., embraces)¬which, as an infantile wish, means that I want Mother to draw me to her in the exuberant embrace I know so well.” The in¬compatibility of the wish lies in the strong undercurrent of ho-mosexuality, abundantly proved by the facts. The crab seizes her by the foot. The patient has large “masculine” feet, she plays the masculine role with her friend and has corresponding sexual fantasies. The foot has a notoriously phallic significance.5 Thus the over-all interpretation would be: The reason why she does not want to leave her friend is because she has repressed sexual desires for her. As these desires are morally and aesthetically in¬compatible with the tendency of the conscious personality, they are repressed and therefore more or less unconscious. Here anx¬iety corresponds to her repressed desire.


129 This interpretation is a severe depreciation of the patient’s
exalted ideal of friendship. To be sure, at this point in the anal¬ysis she would no longer have taken exception to such an inter¬pretation. Some time earlier certain facts had amply convinced her of her homosexual tendency, so that she could freely admit this inclination, although it was by no means agreeable to her. If, then, I had given her this interpretation at the present stage of treatment, I would have not encountered any resistance. She had already overcome the painfulness of this unwelcome tend¬ency by understanding it. But she would have me, “Why are we still analysing this dream? It only reiterates what I have known for a long time.” The interpretation, in fact, tells the patient nothing new; it is therefore uninteresting and ineffec¬tive. Such an interpretation would have been impossible at the beginning of the treatment, because the unusual prudery of the patient would not under any circumstances have admitted anything of that kind.


4 A parallel view of the two kinds of interpretation is to be found in Herbert Silberer’s commendable book, Problems of Mysticism and Its Symbolism.
5 Aigremont (pseud. of Siegmar Baron von Schultze-Gallera), Fuss- und Schuh¬symbolik und -Erotik [1909J.

The “poison” of understanding had to be injected with extreme care, and in very small doses, until she gradually became more reasonable. Now, when the analytical or causal-reductive interpretation ceases to bring to light anything new, but only the same thing in different variations, the mo¬ment has come to look out for possible archetypal motifs. If such a motif comes clearly to the forefront, it is high time to change the interpretative procedure.


The causal-reductive pro¬cedure has in this particular case certain disadvantages. Firstly, it does not take accurate account of the patient’s associations, e.g., the association of “crab” with “cancer.” Secondly, the pe-culiar choice of the symbol remains unexplained. Why should the mother-friend appear as a crab? A prettier and more graphic representation would have been a water-nymph. (“Half drew she him, half sank he under,” ete.) An octopus, a dragon, a snake, or a fish would have served as well. Thirdly, the causal¬reductive procedure forgets that the dream is a subjective phe¬nomenon, and that consequently an exhaustive interpretation can never refer the crab to the friend or the mother alone, but must refer it also to the subject, the dreamer herself. The dreamer is the whole dream; she is the river, the ford, and the crab, or rather these details express conditions and tendencies in the unconscious of the subject.


o I have therefore introduced the following terminology: I
call every interpretation which equates the dream images with real objects an interpretation on the objective level. In contrast to this is the interpretation which refers every part of the dream and all the actors in it back to the dreamer himself. This I call interpretation on the subjective level. Interpretation on the ob¬jective level is analytic, because it breaks down the dream con¬tent into memory-complexes that refer to external situations. Interpretation on the subjective level is synthetic, because it de-taches the underlying memory-complexes from their external causes, regards them as tendencies or components of the subject, and reunites them with that subject. (In any experience I expe¬rience not merely the object but first and foremost myself, pro¬vided of course that I render myself an account of the experi¬ence.) In this case, therefore, all the contents of the dream are treated as symbols for subjective contents.



131 Thus the synthetic or constructive process of interpretation6
is interpretation on the subjective level.



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September 16, 2015

Collected 7
:1 The process of coming to terms with the unconscious is a
true labour, a work which involves both action and suffering. It has been named the “transcendent function” 1 because it repre¬sents a function based on real and “imaginary,” or rational and irrational, data, thus bridging the yawning gulf between con¬scious and unconscious. It is a natural process, a manifestation of the energy that springs from the tension of opposites, and it con¬sists in a series of fantasy-occurrences which appear spontane¬ously in dreams and visions.2 The same process can also be ob¬served in the initial stages of certain forms of schizophrenia.


A classical account of such a proceeding is to be found, for exam¬ple, in Gerard de Nerval’s autobiographical fragment, Aurelia. But the most important literary example is Part II of Faust. The natural process by which the opposites are united came to serve me as the model and basis for a method consisting essentially in this: everything that happens at the behest of nature, uncon¬sciously and spontaneously, is deliberately summoned forth and integrated into the conscious mind and its outlook. Failure in many cases is due precisely to the fact that they lack the mental and spiritual equipment to master the events taking place in them. Here medical help must intervene in the form of a special method of treatment.


2 As we have seen, the theories discussed at the beginning of
this book rest on an exclusively causal and reductive procedure which resolves the dream (or fantasy) into its memory compo•
1 I discovered only subsequently that the idea of the transcendent function also occurs in the higher mathematics, and is actually the name of the function of real and imaginary numbers. See also my essay “The Transcendent Function:’ 2. For an analysis of one such dream-series see Psychology and Alchemy,

nents and the underlying instinctual processes. I have indicated above the justification as well as the limitation of this procedure.


It breaks down at the point where the dream symbols can no longer be reduced to personal reminiscences or aspirations, that is, when the images ot the collective unconscious begin to ap¬pear. It would be quite senseless to try to reduce these collective ideas to anything personal-not only senseless but positively harmful, as painful experience has taught me.

Only with much difficulty, after long hesitation and disabuse by many failures, was I able to decide to abandon the purely personalistic attitude of medical psychology in the sense indicated. I had first to come to the fundamental realization that analysis, in so far as it is re¬duction and nothing more, must necessarily be followed by syn¬thesis, and that certain kinds of psychic material mean next to nothing if simply broken down, but display a wealth of meaning if, instead of being broken down, that meaning is reinforced and extended by all the conscious means at our disposal-by the so¬called method of amplification.3

The images or symbols of the collective unconscious yield their distinctive values only when subjected to a synthetic mode of treatment. Just as analysis breaks down the symbolical fantasy-material into its compo¬nents, so the synthetic procedure integrates it into a general and intelligible statement. The procedure is not exactly simple, so I will give an example which will help to explain the whole process.


123 A woman patient, who had just reached the critical border-
line between the analysis of the personal unconscious and the emergence of contents from the collective unconscious, had the following dream: She is about to cross a wide river. There is no bridge) but she finds a ford where she can cross. She is on the point of doing so) when a large crab that lay hidden in the water seizes her by the toot and will not let her go. She wakes up in terror.


124 River: “Forms a boundary that is difficult to get across-I
have to overcome an obstacle-probably to do with the fact that I’m progressing so slowly-I ought to reach the other side.”


3 [For an account of amplification see “The Theory of Psychoanalysis,” pars. 326ff.-EDlTORS.]

!5 Ford: “An opportunity to cross in safety-a possible way,
otherwise the river would be too broad-in the treatment lies the possibility of surmounting the obstacle.”


!6 Crab: “The crab was quite hidden in the water, I did not
see it before-cancer [German Krebs = crabJ is a terrible dis¬ease, incurable [reference to Mrs. X, who died of carcinoma J-I am afraid of this disease-the crab is an animal that walks back¬wards-and obviously wants to drag me into the river-it caught hold of me in a horrible way and I was terribly frightened-what keeps stopping me from getting across? Oh yes, I had another row with my friend [a woman].”


27 There is something peculiar about her relations with this
friend. It is a sentimental attachment, bordering on the homo¬sexual, that has lasted for years. The friend is like the patient in many ways, and equally nervy. They have marked artistic in¬terests in common. The patient is the stronger personality of the two. Because their mutual relationship is too intimate and ex¬cludes too many of the other possibilities of life, both are nervy and, despite their ideal friendship, have violent scenes due to mutual irritability. The unconscious is trying in this way to put a distance between them, but they refuse to listen.


The quarrel usually begins because one of them finds that she is still not sufficiently understood, and urges that they should speak more plainly to one another; whereupon both make enthusiastic efforts to unbosom themselves. Naturally a misunderstanding comes about in next to no time, and a worse scene than ever ensues. Faute de mieux) this quarrelling had long been for both of them a pleasure substitute which they were unwilling to re¬linquish. My patient in particular could not do without the sweet pain of being misunderstood by her best friend, although every scene “tired her to death.” She had long since realized that this friendship had become moribund, and that only false ambi¬tion led her to believe that something ideal could still be made of it. She had formerly had an exaggerated, fantastic relation to her mother and after her mother’s death had transferred her feelings to her friend.



Collected 7 个人无意识与集体无意识 73

September 15, 2015

Collected 7
Personal, and the Collective (OR TRANSPERSONAL) UNCONSCIOUS

115 The transition from morning to afternoon means a reval-
uation of the earlier values. There comes the urgent need to appreciate the value of the opposite of our former ideals, to per¬ceive the error in our former convictions, to recognize the un¬truth in our former truth, and to feel how much antagonism and even hatred lay in what, until now, had passed for love. Not a few of those who are drawn into the conflict of opposites jettison everything that had previously seemed to them good and worth striving for; they try to live in complete opposition to their for¬mer ego.


Changes of profession, divorces, religious convulsions, apostasies of every description, are the symptoms of this swing over to the opposite. The snag about a radical conversion into one’s opposite is that one’s former life suffers repression and thus produces just as unbalanced a state as existed before, when the counterparts of the conscious virtues and values were still repressed and unconscious. Just as before, perhaps, neurotic dis¬orders arose because the opposing fantasies were unconscious, so now other disorders arise through the repression of former idols. It is of course a fundamental mistake to imagine that when we see the non-value in a value or the untruth in a truth, the value or the truth ceases to exist.


It has only become relative. Every¬thing human is relative, because everything rests on an inner polarity; for everything is a phenomenon of energy. Energy nec¬essarily depends on a pre-existing polarity, without which there could be no energy. There must always be high and low, hot and cold, ete., so that the equilibrating process-which is energy¬can take place. Therefore the tendency to deny all previous val¬Ues in favour of their opposites is just as much of an exaggera¬tion as the earlier one-sidedness. And in so far as it is a question of rejecting universally accepted and indubitable values, the re¬sult is a fatal loss.
One who acts in this way empties himself out with his values, as N ietzsche has already said.



116 The point is not conversion into the opposite but conserva-
tion of previous values together with recognition of their oppo¬sites. Naturally this means conflict and self-division. It is under¬standable enough that one should shrink from it, philosophically as well as morally; hence the alternative sought, more often than conversion into the opposite, is a convulsive stiffening of the previous attitude.


It must be admitted that, in the case of elderly men, this is a phenomenon of no little merit, however disagreeable it may be: at least they do not become renegades, they remain upright, they do not fall into muddle-headedness nor yet into the mud; they are no defaulters, but are merely dead wood or, to put it more politely, pillars of the past. But the accompanying symptoms, the rigidity, the narrow-mindedness, the stand-offishness of these laudatores temporis acti are unpleas¬ant, not to say harmful; for their method of espousing a truth or any other value is so inflexible and violent that their unmanner¬line ss repels more than the truth attracts, so that the result is the opposite of the intended good.

我们必须承认,在老年人们的情况,这是一个相当重要现象, 无论它是多么令人不愉快。至少它们没有变成叛教者。他们始终是正直的。他们并没有掉入糊涂头脑。也还没有掉入泥泞。他们不再是没有行为能力者。而仅是僵化的木头,或说得委婉些,仅是过去的柱子。但是这些伴随的症状,这个僵硬,狭窄的心胸,思古之幽情,是令人不愉快的。更不用说是有害的。因为他们阐释真理或任何其他价值的方法,是如此没有弹性与暴力,以致于他们的不合社交礼貌驱走真理,而不是吸引真理。所以,结果是这个意图的善的恰恰相反。

The fundamental cause of their rigidity is fear of the problem of opposites: they have a forebod¬ing and secret dread of the “sinister brother of Medardus.” Therefore there must be only one truth and one guiding prin¬ciple of action, and that must be absolute; otherwise it affords no protection against the impending disaster, which is sensed everywhere save in themselves. But actually the most dangerous revolutionary is within ourselves, and all must realize this who wish to pass over safely into the second half of life. Certainly this means exchanging the apparent security we have so far enjoyed for a condition of insecurity, of internal division, of contradic¬tory convictions. The worst feature of all is that there appears to be no way out of this condition. Tertium non datur) says logic¬there is no middle way.


117 The practical necessities of treatment have therefore forced
us to look for ways and means that might lead out of this intoler¬able situation. Whenever a man is confronted by an apparently insurmountable obstacle, he draws back: he makes what is tech¬nically called a regression. He goes back to the times when he found himself in similar situations, and he tries to apply again the means that helped him then. But what helped in youth is of no use in age. What good did it do that American business man to return to his former position? It simply wouldn’t work.


So the

regression continues right back into childhood (hence the child-ishness of many elderly neurotics) and ends up in the time be¬fore childhood. That may sound strange, but in point of fact it is not only logical but altogether possible.



Collected 7 个人无意识与集体意识 71

September 11, 2015

Collected 7
Personal, and the Collective (OR TRANSPERSONAL) UNCONSCIOUS

III Old Heraclitus, who was indeed a very great sage, discovered
the most marvellous of all psychological laws: the regulative function of opposites. He called it enantiodromia) a running contrariwise, by which he meant that sooner or later everything runs into its opposite. (Here I would remind you of the case above of the American business man, a beautiful example of en¬antiodromia.) Thus the rational attitude of culture necessarily runs into its opposite, namely the irrational devastation of cul-ture.13 We should never identify ourselves with reason, for man is not and never will be a creature of reason alone, a fact to be noted by all pedantic culture-mongers.


The irrational cannot be and must not be extirpated. The gods cannot and must not die. I said just now that there seems to be something, a kind of supe¬rior power, in the human psyche, and that if this is not the idea of God, then it is the “belly.” I wanted to express the fact that one or other basic instinct, or complex of ideas, will invariably concentrate upon itself the greatest sum of psychic energy and thus force the ego into its service.


As a rule the ego is drawn into this focus of energy so powerfully that it identifies with it and thinks it desires and needs nothing further. In this way a craze develops, a monomania or possession, an acute one-sidedness which most seriously imperils the psychic equilibrium. Without doubt the capacity for such one-sidedness is the secret of success¬of a sort, for which reason our civilization assiduously strives to foster it. The passion, the piling up of energy in these monoma¬nias, is what the ancients called a “god,” and in common speech we still do the same.


Do we not say, “He makes a god of this or that”? A man thinks that he wills and chooses, and does not no¬tice that he is already possessed, that liis interest has become the master, arrogating all power to itself. Such interests are indeed gods of a kind which, once recognized by the many, gradually form a “church” and gather a herd of believers about them.

13 This sentence was written during the first World War. I have let it stand in its original form because it contains a truth which has been confirmed more than once in the course of history. (\Vritten in 1925.) As present events show, the confirmation did not have to wait very long. Who wants this blind destruc-tion? But we all help the daemon to our last gasp. 0 sancta simpZicitas! (Written in 1942.)

This we then call an “organization.” It is followed by a dis¬organizing reaction which aims to drive out the devil with Beelzebub. The enantiodromia that always threatens when a movement attains to undisputed power offers no solution of the problem, for it is just as blind in its disorganization as it was in its organization.


112 The only person who escapes the grim law of enantiodromia
is the man who knows how to separate himself from the uncon¬scious, not by repressing it-for then it simply attacks him from the rear-but by putting it clearly before him as that which he is not.


113 This prepares the way for the solution of the Scylla and
Charybdis problem described above. The patient must learn to differentiate what is ego and what is non-ego, i.e., collective psyche. In this way he finds the material to which he will hence¬forth have to accommodate himself.


His energy, until now laid up in unserviceable and pathological forms, has come into its proper sphere. It is essential, in differentiating the ego from the non-ego, that a man should be firmly rooted in his ego-function; that is, he must fulfil his duty to life, so as to be in every respect a viable member of the community. All that he neglects in this respect falls into the unconscious and reinforces its position, so that he is in danger of being swallowed up by it. But the penal¬ties for this are heavy.


As Synesius opined of old, it is just the “inspired soul” ( 7r1J€vfJ,aTL){~ 1fvx~ ) that becomes god and de¬mon, and as such suffers the divine punishment of being torn asunder like Zagreus. This was what N ietzsche experienced at the onset of his malady. Enantiodromia means being torn asun¬der into pairs of opposites, which are the attributes of “the god” and hence also of the godlike man, who owes his godlikeness to overcoming his gods. As soon as we speak of the collective un¬conscious we find ourselves in a sphere, and concerned with a problem, which is altogether precluded in the practical analysis of young people or of those who have remained infantile too long.


Wherever the father and mother imagos have still to be overcome, wherever there is a little bit of life still to be con¬quered, which is the natural possession of the average man, then we had better make no mention of the collective unconscious and the problem of opposites. But once the parental transfer¬ences and the youthful illusions have been mastered, or are at

least ripe for mastery, then we must speak of these things. We are here outside the range of Freudian and Adlerian reductions; we are no longer concerned with how to remove the obstacles to a man’s profession, or to his marriage, or to anything that means a widening of his life, but are confronted with the task of find¬ing a meaning that will enable him to continue living at all-a meaning more than blank resignation and mournful retrospect.


114 Our life is like the course of the sun. In the morning it gains
continually in strength until it reaches the zenith-heat of high noon. Then comes the enantiodromia: the steady forward move¬ment no longer denotes an increase, but a decrease, in strength. Thus our task in handling a young person is different from the task of handling an older person. In the former case, it is enough to clear away all the obstacles that hinder expansion and ascent; in the latter, we must nurture everything that assists the descent.


An inexperienced youth thinks one can let the old people go, because not much more can happen to them anyway: they have their lives behind them and are no better than petrified pillars of the past. But it is a great mistake to suppose that the meaning of life is exhausted with the period of youth and expansion; that, for example, a woman who has passed the menopause is “finished.”


The afternoon of life is just as full of meaning as the morning; only, its meaning and purpose are different.14 Man has two aims: the first is the natural aim, the begetting of children and the business of protecting the brood; to this belongs the acquisition of money and social position. When this aim has been reached a new phase begins: the cultural aim. For the attainment of the former we have the help of nature and, on top of that, education; for the attainment of the latter, little or nothing helps.


Often, indeed, a false ambition survives, in that an old man wants to be a youth again, or at least feels he must behave like one, although in his heart he can no longer make believe. This is what makes the transition from the natu¬ral to the cultural phase so terribly difficult and bitter for many people; they cling to the illusion of youth or to their chil¬dren, hoping to salvage in this way a last little scrap of youth.


One sees it especially in mothers, who find their sole meaning in their children and imagine they will sink into a bottomless void when they have to give them up. No wonder that many bad neu¬Ho Cf. “The Stages of Life.”

roses appear at the onset of life’s afternoon. It is a sort of second puberty, another “storm and stress” period, not infrequently ac¬companied by tempests of passion-the :’dangerous age.” But the problems that crop up at this age are no longer to be solved by the old recipes: the hand of this clock cannot be put back. What youth found and must find outside, the man of life’s afternoon must find within himself. Here we face new problems which often cause the doctor no light headache.