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#1793 - Monday, May 10, 2004 - Editor: Jerry

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  • Jerry Katz
    #1793 - Monday, May 10, 2004 - Editor: Jerry Highlights Home Page and Archive: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm Letter to the Editors: Click Reply , compose
    Message 1 of 1 , May 12, 2004
      #1793 - Monday, May 10, 2004 - Editor: Jerry

      Highlights Home Page and Archive: http://nonduality.com/hlhome.htm
      Letter to the Editors: Click 'Reply', compose your message, and 'Send'. All the editors will see your letter.

      Illuminating the Shadow: An Interview with Connie Zweig  



      In psychology, the dark side of human nature is
      often described as the alter ego, the id, or the
      lower self. The great Swiss psychiatrist Carl
      Jung called it the "shadow." By shadow, he meant
      the negative side of the personality, the sum
      total of all those unpleasant qualities that we
      would prefer to hide. While Carl Jung coined the
      term "the shadow," the idea of a dark side of
      human nature dates back to antiquity and has
      figured in some of our most famous stories and
      myths, from the dark brother in the Bible to Dr.
      Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  

      For psychotherapist Connie Zweig, the shadow
      represents one of the most important yet least
      understood aspects of human nature. We all have a
      shadow, she says. The challenge is to meet it
      face-to-face, for unless we come to terms with
      our own dark side, we're condemned to be its

      Connie Zweig's latest book is called Romancing
      the Shadow.
      It's the follow-up to her bestselling
      anthology from a few years ago called Meeting the
      Zweig is the founder of the Institute for
      Shadow-work and Spiritual Psychotherapy in Los


      Scott London: Of all the metaphors that have been
      used to illustrate the shadow in recent years, my
      favorite is Robert Bly's image of the big bag
      that we drag behind us.  

      Connie Zweig: Yes, he said that we spend the
      first half of our lives putting everything into
      the bag and the second half pulling it out.  

      London: What did Carl Jung have in mind when he
      formulated this idea?  

      Zweig: He believed that everything that is in our
      conscious awareness is in the light. But
      everything of substance which stands in the light
      -- whether it's a tree or an idea -- also casts a
      shadow. And that which stands in the darkness is
      outside of our awareness.  

      As Jung saw it, the shadow operated at several
      levels. First, there is the part of the mind that
      is outside of our awareness. He called this the
      personal unconscious or personal shadow. That is
      the conditioned part of us that we acquire from
      our experiences in our childhood when that which
      is unacceptable, as determined by the adults
      around us, is cast into shadow. It may be sadness
      or sexual curiosity. Or it may be our creative
      dreams and desires. That's personal shadow. But
      there is another level as well. Jung also talked
      about the "collective unconscious" or the
      "archetypal shadow."  

      London: What are some of the most common
      manifestations of the personal shadow?  

      Zweig: The personal shadow is that part of us
      that erupts spontaneously and unexpectedly when
      we do something self-destructive, or something
      that is hurtful to someone else. Afterwards, we
      know it's been around because we feel humiliated,
      ashamed, and guilty.
      I would say the personal shadow is that part of
      us that feels like it can't be tamed, can't be
      controlled. For instance, many parents who
      struggle with their children with impulses of
      rage that rise up, and they yell, or maybe even
      hit the child. Then, afterwards, they say to
      themselves, "Oh, my God, I can't believe I did
      that. Who am I?" That's the shadow.
      London: I remember a conversation I had with the
      writer Phil Cousineau. He distinguished between
      spirit and soul. Spirit is in the heights, he
      said, while soul is in the depths. While we tend
      reach for the heights, it's usually in the depths
      that we find that sense of aliveness. As he put
      it, "You don't tell Aretha Franklin to `Get up,'
      you tell her to `get down.'"  

      Zweig: Yes. I think that what has happened in our
      eagerness to be more spiritual, more conscious,
      more aware, is that we've only gone up. And some
      of us have been left floating up there in the
      skies, just over the mountain tops, like
      helium-balloons. We've lost the contact with the
      lower worlds, with the passions, the instincts,
      sex, desire. We've made desire wrong and have
      wanted to be free of our attachments and our
      cravings, as the Buddha teaches.  

      Read the entire article: http://www.scottlondon.com/insight/scripts/zweig.html    

      From Highlights #89  


      I am looking at Self as meaning unification, organization,
      wholeness. Self has relationship therefore to soul, self,
      peace, harmony and God. All of these are words that relate
      to a unity or organization of experience and perception.
      The experience of all as Self is the experience of no
      outside, no other, total unity. Thus, the Self inevitably
      raises a Shadow. The Shadow being related to "outsideness,"
      "otherness," "disunity." The Shadow can be associated with
      illusion, ignorance, suffering, separation, or evil.
      Thus, realization of Self doesn't necessarily mean the
      resolution of the Shadow. I am using the term wholly Other
      to refer to whatever is beyond Selfness and Shadowness. The
      Other as whatever cannot be subsumed in the categories of
      Self or Shadow (Shadow is not truly beyond Self, as it
      remains associated to Self). Because of this Other, a
      person who has experienced Self would be best not to be

      A person may yet need to encounter and work with Shadow, may
      need to find where Self and Shadow "arise together," may
      need to have any remaining sense of identification with
      Selfness dissolve in the wholly Other.  


      The Nonduality of Life and Death: A Buddhist View of Repression
      By David Loy

      ...the sense-of-self always has, as its inescapable
      shadow, a sense-of-lack, which (alas!) it always
      tries to escape. It is here that the
      psychoanalytic concept of repression comes in,
      for the idea of "the return of the repressed" in
      a distorted form shows us how to link this
      fundamental yet hopeless project with the
      symbolic ways we try to make ourselves real in
      the world. This deep sense of lack is experienced
      as the feeling that "there is something wrong
      with me." To the extent that we have a sense of
      autonomous self, we have this sense of lack,
      which manifests in many different forms. We have
      already noticed one: the craving to be famous,
      which is a good example of the way we usually try
      to make ourselves real -- through the eyes of
      others. In its "purer" forms lack appears as
      ontological guilt or, even more basic, an
      ontological anxiety at the very core of one's
      being, which is almost unbearable because it
      gnaws on that core. For that reason all anxiety
      wants to become objectified into fear of
      something (as Spinoza might say, fear is anxiety
      associated with an object), because then we know
      what to do: we have ways to defend ourselves
      against the feared thing.  

      The tragedy of these objectifications, however,
      is that no amount of money can be enough if it is
      not really money that we want. When we do not
      understand what is actually motivating us --
      because what we think we want is only a symptom
      of something else -- we end up compulsive,
      "driven." Such a Buddhist analysis implies that
      no true "mental health" will be found short of an
      enlightenment which puts an end to that
      sense-of-lack which is the shadow of the
      sense-of-self, by putting an end to the
      sense-of-self.   R

      ead the entire article: http://ccbs.ntu.edu.tw/FULLTEXT/JR-PHIL/davloy.htm]    

      Nisargadatta Maharaj  

      The person is a very small thing. Actually it is a composite, it cannot
      be said to exist by itself. Unperceived, it is just not there. It is but the
      shadow of the mind, the sum total of memories. Pure being is reflected
      in the mirror of the mind, as knowing. What is known takes the shape
      of a person, based on memory and habit. It is but a shadow, or a
      projection of the knower onto the screen of the mind.    

      From 'A Course in Consciousness'  


      Idealism was first expounded by Plato in his cave
      allegory in The Republic (see, e.g., Julia Annas,
      An Introduction to Plato’s Republic, p. 252,
      1981). Prisoners are in an underground cave with
      a fire behind them, bound so they can see only
      the shadows on the wall in front of them, cast by
      puppets manipulated behind them. They think that
      this is all there is to see; if released from
      their bonds and forced to turn around to the fire
      and the puppets, they become bewildered and are
      happier left in their original state. They are
      even angry with anyone who tries to tell them how
      pitiful their position is. Only a few can bear to
      realize that the shadows are only shadows cast by
      the puppets; and they begin the journey of
      liberation that leads past the fire and right out
      of the cave to the real world. At first they are
      dazzled there, and can bear to see real objects
      only in reflection and indirectly, but then they
      look at them directly in the light of the sun,
      and can even look at the sun itself.  

      This allegory is related to idealism in the
      following way. The shadows of the puppets that
      the prisoners are watching represent their taking
      over, in unreflective fashion, the second-hand
      opinions and beliefs that are given to them by
      parents, society, and religion. The puppets
      themselves represent the mechanical, unreasoning
      minds of the prisoners. The light of the fire
      within the cave provides only partial, distorted
      illumination from the imprisoned intellects.
      Liberation begins when the few who turn around
      get up and go out of the cave. Outside of the
      cave, the real objects (the Forms) are those in
      the transcendental realm. In order to see them,
      the light of the sun, which represents pure
      reason, is necessary. A similar allegory using
      today’s symbols would replace the cave with a
      movie theater, the shadows with the pictures on
      the screen, the puppets with the film, and the
      fire with the projector light. The sun is
      outside, and we must leave the theater to see its
      We can adapt Plato’s cave allegory to represent
      monistic idealism in the following way. The fire
      is replaced by the light of the sun (pure
      Awareness) coming in through the entrance to the
      cave, and the puppets are replaced by archetypal
      objects within the transcendent realm. The
      phenomenal world of matter and thoughts is merely
      the shadow of the archetypes in the light of
      consciousness. Here, we clearly see a
      complementarity of phenomenon and Noumenon. To
      look only at the shadows is to be unaware of
      Awareness. To be directly aware of Awareness is
      to realize that the phenomenal world is merely a
      shadow. The shadow world is what we perceive.
      Awareness can only be apperceived, i.e., realized
      by a knowing that is beyond perception.
      Apperception liberates one from the shackles of
      the cave, and exposes one to infinite freedom.
      Apperception is the proof that consciousness is
      all there is.  


      by David Hodges  

      I just got back from walking up to East Rock with
      my camera. I wanted to get there before the sun
      went away. Two nights ago the gloom of early
      evening deterred me from taking pictures. Tonight
      I got some good shots of the way East Rock towers
      over our neighborhood.  

      East Rock is a massive rock formation left over
      from when the glaciers pushed through, scraping
      everything in their path to form Long Island just
      to our south across the Sound. All that was left
      were West Rock, East Rock, and Sleeping Giant,
      all of which are rocks formed of uplifted strata
      from ancient seabeds. East Rock is a vertical
      striated reddish-brown formation some 300 feet
      high, with a War Memorial on top along with
      benches and picnic tables and those sight-seeing
      binocular things that you drop a dime into. You
      can see East rock at the end of all the
      north/south streets in our neighborhood, towering
      over everything, and I think I got some good
      shots of that.  

      As I walked along East Rock park, a playing field
      at the base of East Rock, there was a game of
      Frisbee just getting underway with a group of
      college-aged kids. They were playing much as we
      used to play in college. I think the game is
      called Frisbee football. It is like soccer, it is
      played by passing the Frisbee from teammate to
      teammate, with frequent changes of possession
      when the Frisbee is dropped or intercepted.  

      I stopped to watch for a while.  

      I remebered how in college my group of friends
      often played Frisbee. There was a group of guys a
      year older who we would play against. My
      teammates, mostly more athletic than I, were an
      amazing bunch and frequently we won. In
      particular, we had the combination of Jon and
      Jim. Jon was an impossibly good looking boy-man
      with an impish personality and phenomenal
      athletic and musical gifts. Jim was taller, less
      graceful, but very athletic and strong.
      Frequently during our games Jon would run way
      downfield. I can just see the way he used to
      scamper with his cut-off shorts the only clothing
      he was wearing. Jim would wind up and fire that
      Frisbee on an impossibly long, looping trajectory
      way ahead of Jon. But Jon would accelerate, leap,
      and catch the Frisbee at the last moment, and
      come down laughing as he did so. We would all
      clap and holler and celebrate.  

      Jon was the first of our group to get married and
      the first to attempt suicide.  

      Jim died at a young age of leukemia, leaving a
      wife and several small children.  

      Jon spent some time in a psychiatric hospital
      where he received shock treatments. He moved to
      California where he joined up with some ashram,
      and he would come into San Francisco (where I
      lived at the time) to play his violin in the
      street for money. After a while I refused to let
      him crash in my apartment because I thought he
      was demonstrably psychotic.  

      I remember one of the last things he said to me
      before I lost touch with him. I ran into him on
      the street near the Cannery where he had his hat
      on the pavement while he played his violin. He
      told me how great things were at the ashram and
      how happy he was without possessions or
      attachments. As I turned to leave he shouted
      after me, "Find God!"  

      I think I already had though at that time I
      didn't know it. God was a white Frisbee, spinning
      through the soft evening sunlight, on a green
      lawn, into the hands of a leaping angel.

      David keeps an enjoyable Live Journal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/wandertheearth/  

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