Category Archives: Chuck’s Blog

Welcome to Chuck’s Place! This is where Chuck Ketchel, LCSW-R, expresses his thoughts, insights, and experiences! Currently, Chuck posts an essay once a week, currently on Tuesdays, along the lines of inner work, psychotherapy, Jungian thought and analysis, shamanism, alchemy, politics, or any theme that makes itself known to him as the most important topic of the week. Many of the shamanic and psychological terms used in Chuck’s essays are defined in Tools & Definitions on our Psychotherapy page.

#661 Chuck’s Place: Compassion is Ruthlessness

Welcome to Chuck’s Place, where Chuck Ketchel expresses his thoughts, insights, and experiences! Many of the shamanic and psychological terms used in Chuck’s essays are defined in Tools & Definitions on our Psychotherapy website.

Shamans define ruthlessness as the place of no pity. In their nomenclature, the place of no pity represents a shift of the assemblage point where one enters a different reality, which is far more comprehensive than ordinary reality. Shamans assert that the familiar world of ordinary reality is fixated on the position of self-pity. From this place of self-pity we cling to the archetypal roles of family, long beyond actual necessity. We fund these archetypal roles of mother, father, child, spouse, etc., with all our available energy, leaving no energy for life as a separate being on a solo journey of awareness; the journey we are all really on.

We pity the self that ultimately must die alone and so we cling to the illusions that spin what the Buddhists call the Wheel of Life. To quote Esther Harding, from her book Psychic Energy:

When, before his enlightenment, he was meditating under the Bo Tree, he [Buddha] asked himself: Why are there these endlessly repeated lives? Why do people, and animals as well, go on with the senseless round of birth and suffering and death? Why does life continue exactly the same—why do men not outgrow this barbaric and immature stage? His meditation grew deeper and deeper, until at last he had a vision that revealed the answer. He saw the wheel of life, consisting of the endless round of existences, of births and deaths and rebirths, of heavens and hells, and the earth with its many faces.

Buddha saw the illusions we cling to that construct and maintain the world of what the shamans call ordinary reality, a world that strictly adheres to an endless round of living our repetitive archetypal roles.

Buddha arrived at the place of compassion for beings who cling to their illusions. Compassion is not pity. Compassion is the acceptance, without judgment, that all beings must cling to their illusions and go round and round again in their cosmic Groundhog Day,* until they are ready to awaken. That is, to take personal responsibility to face the true nature of reality beyond the archetypal roles; to allow themselves to let go, to detach from the pity that clings to the illusions in a childlike grasp for safety and security. Buddha saw that all must arrive at that place individually. No one can take another’s journey. No one can give another enlightenment. That will always be an individual task. Only when an individual is finally ready will they take the journey, the solo journey, devoid of archetypal props. Compassion, then, is loving all who cling, but remaining unattached, fully stalking the place the shamans call ruthlessness.

Ruthlessness completely stares down pity. Ruthlessness fully allows all beings to be what they truly are: independent travelers on an infinite journey. Ruthlessness sees beyond; it detaches from all the archetypal bindings, lovingly allowing sons, daughters, parents, husbands, and wives, etc., to fully take their journeys. Ruthlessness is compassion. Ruthlessness remains unattached to the illusions; it gets out of the way of others taking the journeys they must. Ruthlessness is compassion without pity. With ruthlessness we stalk the position that lifts the veils. On the one hand, ruthlessness is a loving acceptance of wherever another may be on the wheel of life and, on the other, it is standing as a beacon to the evolutionary journey beyond the wheel.

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below.

Until we meet again,
Chuck

* Refers to the Bill Murray movie.

#658 Chuck’s Place: Your Family is Not Your Family

Welcome to Chuck’s Place, where Chuck Ketchel expresses his thoughts, insights, and experiences! Many of the shamanic and psychological terms used in Chuck’s essays are defined in Tools & Definitions on our Psychotherapy website.

We are born with instincts ready to ensure our survival. A baby is preprogrammed to attach to its parents, to be nurtured and cared for, to ensure survival. Though our soul may choose the family we are born into to present a specific set of challenges necessary for its evolution, a baby has no choice over who its family members are. At the point of birth a baby is a blank slate with a psychic program, what Jung calls the archetypes of the collective unconscious, which are activated and direct the infant in the process of attachment. Hence, the deep emotional process of attachment, which is experienced so personally, is in fact quite impersonally driven. A baby will attach to any appropriate caregivers.

The same impersonal instinctive process is activated in parents when they have a child. Many a mother may exclaim: “I immediately fell in love the instant I saw my child!” An inner maternal archetype is activated in this mother, releasing powerful energy experienced as love, and projected onto her infant. However, in truth, this mother has no clue who this child really is. I am not intending to be offensive with this statement, as it can be argued that a deep relationship is already in place prior to birth. However, a relationship of consciousness with a separate being is simply not yet possible. There is as yet no real personal relationship; the child has yet to discover its personality separate from the mother. A separate entity with full consciousness of self will evolve over time.

Inborn, archetypal processes, quite impersonal in nature, are programs preserved and activated in the collective unconscious to exert a guiding influence and sufficient energy to form and stabilize a family unit. Our human process is no different from that of birds or any other species that instinctively carries out a set of inborn patterns to bring a newborn into the world, i.e., the building of a nest and the feeding of a helpless being.

Relationships and feelings within the family are prompted by specific archetypes. Hence, in truth, a child’s “love” for its parents is largely impersonal, not really a function of an actual conscious relationship. A parent’s love is also largely archetypally driven. Children are programmed to need, love, and idealize their parents. I do not mean to suggest that children and parents don’t get to know each other and love each other as real people; however, a large percent of the bond between parent and child is a function of a collective instinctive program. If the actual parents are what Winnicott * called “good enough” then children will have little difficulty following their instinctive archetypal imperative to “love thy parents.” If a parent is not “good enough,” there results an interruption in an archetypal developmental process that may result, ultimately, in the child growing into adulthood with deep issues of insecurity, anxiety, and depression. For this child/adult it is likely that adult life will be burdened with powerful concerns around parental failures in childhood. However, the actual issue resides within the psyche of the child/adult in its ego’s relationship with parental archetypes whose energies have yet to be harnessed by the ego in a positive way.

Although an adult may seek reparative relationships in adulthood to resolve this archetypal dilemma, this often results in the unfulfilled childhood needs being acted out in adult relationships, leads to endless confusion, and is rarely successful. Equally, an adult child may continuously seek to have its needs met by its family of origin, which in fact can become a lifelong problem, regardless of how old everyone becomes. In therapy, clients with these issues are encouraged to take the hero’s journey, the inner journey, to obtain their birthright in a new relationship with their inner archetypes, fully birthing into adulthood. At the adult stage, a relationship with actual parents cannot solve a grown child’s issues. As adults, we must assume responsibility for ourselves as adults, even when we really don’t feel like adults. That is what makes the inner journey a heroic journey: the journeyer takes on frightening tasks, seemingly beyond its ability, and in the process accrues successes that ultimately transform the hero into a genuine adult.

The truth is, there may in fact be little or no real relationship with actual family members. Real adult relationships can only happen between equals, not with people who use power and position, based of their archetypal roles, as the dominant feature of interaction. The truest relationship between a grown child and a parent would be one based on genuine friendship, affection, and appreciation of each other’s unique identities and journeys, not one based on need and expectation. If we want to have a real relationship with our parents or grown children we must shed the ancient archetypal roles that have become outdated and inappropriate to the essence of life: our soul’s journey. Nobody owes anybody anything. We are all adults with individual destinies to fulfill. Though we once may have shared a powerful bond, personally felt, impersonally driven, once necessary, our real reason for being here is to discover and master our individual challenges. If we can arrive at a place of mutual support and appreciation of each other’s challenges, assuming full responsibility for our own lives, regardless of what did or didn’t happen in the time when the family was deeply connected as a unit, then we can truly have relationships with family beyond the family, when the possibility for real relationship actually begins.

I close with Kahlil Gibran’s poem On Children taken from The Prophet, which captures the essence of what I have attempted to express today.

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,

which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,

and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below.

Until we meet again,
Chuck

NOTE: Read about Winnicott in Wikipedia.

#654 Chuck’s Place: The Heart of Romance: Solutio

Welcome to Chuck’s Place, where Chuck Ketchel expresses his thoughts, insights, and experiences! Many of the shamanic and psychological terms used in Chuck’s essays are defined in Tools & Definitions on our Psychotherapy website.

Tomorrow is Valentine’s Day, the day of ROMANCE! Romance is an innate, quick-acting solvent, capable of dissolving boundaries, with the promise of blissful union. Ultimately, romance engages us in a process of projection where we encounter both our inner blockages and ideals in the reflection of our beloved. The challenge in romance is to truly individuate, that is, to overcome our inner resistances and be available to love, versus seeking resolution through changes in our projected reflection in the other, for instance, trying to overcome a deep sense of unlovability through our lover’s convincing us that we are lovable, by their unrelenting, adoring attention, yet never truly believing this within, remaining compulsively bound to our lover’s reassurances.

We are all born from solution. Our bodies gradually coagulate and differentiate as we float blissfully in the ocean of the womb. Leaving the womb is hardly a blissful experience. Some have suggested that birth is indeed the primal trauma. Like the expulsion from the Garden, nature forcefully separates the babe from its creator. Our search for love as romance, throughout life, is our deep craving to recapture our primal oneness, wholeness with nature and creator.

The opus of the alchemists was to restore matter, the stone, to its prima materia, solution, the womb, where it could coagulate and be reborn as gold, wholeness. Our challenge in life is to discover and dissolve our hardnesses, our stones: our traumas, defenses, resistances, fears, that we might be reborn a unified whole, capable of true love.

Romance is the most powerful human solvent. In romance, all boundaries dissolve as we merge in magical oneness with our beloved. Most of the images of romance depict solution: champagne, wine, hot tubs, warm pools, clear lakes, waterfalls, ocean waves, warm sandy beaches, cruises, etc. These images of solution return the couple to their womblike origins as they are swept into blissful union. Or at least that’s the promise!

There are some drawbacks to this most desirable and rapid solvent, romance. The morning after often tends to not be so blissful. Aside from a potential hangover, the light of day and the differentiated clarity it offers can shed incredible doubt upon last night’s beloved. Nonetheless, the underlying drive for union is so great that romance eagerly and rapidly projects its golden glow upon yet an other, this time, hopefully, the right other. There is a vast pool of others, many fish in the sea, to project upon.

Often the chosen other reflects an old blockage, a stone in the heart, a frozen experience from the past where great expectation resulted in deep disappointment that shut down the heart. In this case, the golden lover, an obvious wrong choice to the eyes of objective friends or family, is the necessary mistake, the necessary obsession, an attempt to project, encounter and dissolve the old blockage, to once again allow love to flow. This strategy rarely succeeds, as union with this beloved other, in reality, is often most inappropriate, i.e., they are too old, too brutal, too immature, incapable of commitment, incapable of loving, etc. After many successive romantic failures we might, through a depression, be ready to turn inward and begin the opus of dissolution of the stone at its source, within the heart, in the process of recapitulation and individuation. Despite its promise, romance cannot supply a quick fix for necessary deep inner work.

The other major concern with solutio is drowning. The difference between finally being able to cry, to grieve over a loss and break down a long held blockage versus drowning in a pool of tears protesting birth and change, is the difference between floating in preparation for rebirth and clinging to and drowning in the womb, seeking wholeness only in primal unconscious union and oblivion. This is the difference between the child finding nurturance in new life versus the child clinging to the placenta, union through conscious individuation versus unconscious union. The object of the opus is rebirth, to dissolve and resolve, to be born anew, whole. This is the birth that includes consciousness, separateness, and the ability to be whole as separate, to drop separate boundaries and unite with another, yet be able to return to “separateness in wholeness.” Isn’t this the ultimate romance, love without possession, love without clinging; partners, separate and whole, together on a journey?

And so, Happy Valentine’s Day. Whether it be a time of hope with a New Valentine or a time of rebirth with an Old Valentine, just remember to find the greatest love of all, inside of me!

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below.

Until we meet again,
Chuck

#650 Chuck’s Place: The Wise Ancestral Self

Welcome to Chuck’s Place, where Chuck Ketchel expresses his thoughts, insights, and experiences! Many of the shamanic and psychological terms used in Chuck’s essays are defined in Tools & Definitions on our Psychotherapy website.

We are born into this world with bodies fully formed and constructed via ancient programs of evolutionary successes and, yet, our minds begin as blank slates, orphans of our ancestral parentage. What an apparent contradiction! This is the dominant scientific perspective and, in fact, the experience of most people with the birth of consciousness, or the ego, in early childhood.

This birth of awareness, of “I,” a separate self, is at once exciting and overwhelming. Excitement comes from discovering the freedom and power of autonomy and choice. Fear springs from the awareness that our newly discovered “I” is small and inadequate, hardly capable of caring for itself in a powerful world it neither understands nor can control.

This birth of consciousness is the moment of eating the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Garden of Eden. The punishment for awareness of a separate self is banishment from the garden, and the charge to the ego, that separate self, is to “go it alone,” despite its inadequacy and lack of preparation. Our banishment, the birth of the ego, is our separation from our wise ancestral self. We become a blank slate, seeking, with desperate extraverted eyes, to fill our egos with knowledge, gained from trial and error or formal education, to be capable of occupying a space in this world, with some sense of legitimacy, orphans that we are. This is the plight of the ego, alienated from its wise ancestral self.

We spend the better part of the first half of life struggling to find our place in this world. We seek to discover our talents, our callings, where we belong. We burn through many false starts, trial and error careers and marriages, all the while accumulating more knowledge and clarity of who we “really are.” Regardless of our successes and failures in life, at the deepest level, we remain orphans, at best very adequate, well adapted, successful orphans, but, underneath, aware of a void. For some, this void is a deep sense of inadequacy, while for others it presents as a deep spiritual longing. Jung would identify it as the challenge of individuation, where the ego accepts its rightful but relative place as part of the all-encompassing wise ancestral self.. That wise ancestral self is present and functioning throughout our lives, it is our true guardian angel.

For example, years ago, as I stood alone on a beach in Jamaica, forcibly loading my spear gun, I inadvertently stabbed the back of the spear deep into my palm. (I wrote about this experience in The Book of Us, but I am presenting a different perspective on it this time around.) At that moment, I fainted; my ego vanished. It was overwhelmed; it knew not what to do. When my ego woke up, I returned to consciousness: I was sitting on the beach with my palm packed in a lump of wet sand. The bleeding had been fully contained and coagulated; the wound was completely sterile and healing. Who did that? Who knew exactly what to do without any intervention of consciousness? No one else was on the beach, and my ego was fully asleep.

In another example, years after that, I was driving alone very late at night northbound on the Taconic State Parkway. I fell completely asleep. When I woke up I was driving, properly, in the southbound lanes of the Taconic State Parkway! Mind you, I was not drunk, in some kind of blackout state. I’d simply fallen completely asleep. Who took over the wheel and had the sense of humor to make me grapple with the fact that I had somehow successfully made a U-turn while my ego was asleep!

These are dramatic examples that, for me, illustrate the background activity of the wise ancestral self that operates on our behalf, fully independent of our ego awareness. Yes, we think we are orphans but, the truth is, our wise ancestral self is always participating in our lives. The real issue is whether the ego is in alignment with this wise ancestral self or completely at odds with it. Psychological symptoms, such as compulsions or compulsive projections, as well as physical illnesses often reflect interventions by our wise ancestral self to influence the decisions and actions of our alienated egos. I give the following hypothetical example, using a sexual compulsion. This is not a judgment about the type of sexual play enacted in S & M play. I assume here that my hypothetical client is disturbed by their compulsion. For example, this client might be an executive with an extremely powerful, dominant personality in the world, with a lot of control over others but possessed by a strong masochistic sexual compulsion. In this case, the wise ancestral self saddles them with a compulsion that attempts to deflate a power-hungry ego by compelling it to walk around on all fours with a collar around its neck, obeying the commands of a dominatrix. If this individual can rein in its alienated inflated ego and become humble, by assuming its rightful but modest place as part of a greater whole within the psyche, then the wise ancestral self could lift the compulsion and allow balance to be restored.

The introvert has the advantage of direct contact with the wise ancestral self because the primary focus is the inner subjective experience whereas the extravert focuses outside the self, giving primacy to the object. The introvert has direct access to the thoughts and feelings of the wise ancestral self who communicates in both images and words. The artist frequently receives the images and expresses them on a canvas or in other form. For those inclined to words, there is verbal communication with various parts of the wise ancestral self. Jung called this active imagination, where the ego volitionally communicates with the greater psyche to better understand its message or point of view. Channeling, at a certain level, is written or verbal contact with parts of the individual psyche or wise ancestral psyche, what Jung called the collective unconscious. At the deepest level, channeling is communication beyond the psyche and the confines of this world.

Dreaming is a daily dance with the greater psyche. Every time we write down a dream and feel and contemplate the characters and the situations in our dreams we are connecting with and seeking greater alignment with our deeper wise ancestral self. When I write down a dream, I structure it like a poem. For example, recently, I had the following dream:

My younger son was about nine years old, and was a DJ.
His dilemma was, how to get rides to his jobs.
I offered to take him to a particular job.
It turned out that he was the DJ for his own birthday party.
I was surprised. I didn’t know about the party.
He told me he had invited Efren, my old therapist.
I thought, “Why would Efren come?”
He didn’t know anyone.

When I first wrote the dream, I was struck by the image of my son spinning 45’s, as well as the interest of my old therapist in attending his birthday party. That was the extent of my dance with my dream. I returned later, continuing to visualize the spinning record. The word circumambulation came into my mind and I researched its meaning. Jung identified the circular process of attempting to find one’s way to the self as an individuation motif, the process of walking a labyrinth; the ego’s circuitous attempts through life to find its way back to the center, to the garden, to the wise ancestral self. As I visualized the needle on the record, going round and round, making its way toward the center, I recognized that my wise ancestral self was pointing me to embrace the innocence symbolized by my young son. This was further highlighted by my old therapist’s interest in going to the party. He had once been the projection of my wise ancestral self by my younger self, then in therapy with him. This continued dance with my dream shifted both my mood and awareness and directly impacted decisions that I made that day.

The challenge for introverts is to value their inner experiences in a world currently dominated by an extraverted prejudice. The challenge for extraverts is to recognize that the outer world becomes the palette for the deeper psyche to guide and alter judgments and actions. Owning projections for the extravert is an important means to dance with the inner images and align with the intent of the wise ancestral self.

In truth, there is no contradiction between psyche and body when we are born into this world, both are connected to their ancestral roots. It remains for the blank slate ego to rediscover its wise ancestral self. For the introvert, this is most accessible within; for the extravert without, via projection, but no one is a pure introvert or extravert. With a little effort, extraverts can dance with their dreams and introverts recognize their projections.

If you wish to correspond, please feel free to post a comment below.

Until we meet again,
Chuck

#646 Chuck’s Place: Extraversion, Codependency or Projection?

Welcome to Chuck’s Place, where Chuck Ketchel expresses his thoughts, insights, and experiences! Many of the shamanic and psychological terms used in Chuck’s essays are defined in Tools & Definitions on our Psychotherapy website.

Extraversion, codependency and projection all share a common quality: orientation of self to something outside the self. If I find myself dominated by something outside of me it’s important to find out why. Is it normal? Is it a problem? Or is it the basis of a new discovery about myself?

One of Carl Jung’s most enduring contributions to mainstream psychology was his differentiation of personality types illustrated in the well-known Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI) personality test. Jung first identified that all individuals fall into one of two major attitudinal orientations: introversion or extraversion. Introverts consider first their internal viewpoint; extraverts consider first the external situation and how best to fit into it. Each of these attitudes is normal and apparently biologically assigned, each having their unique adaptive value, hence, each contributing to the evolution and survival of the species. For example, the extravert might act quickly and concisely, the introvert more deliberately or hesitantly. Depending on the circumstances one or the other attitude may be the better choice.

Jung pointed to the value of each of these attitudes in nature and stated that although all individuals were born with a dominance of one or the other, either introversion or extraversion, they carried the recessive trait of the non-dominant attitude, which is a necessary part of life. For instance, a dominant introvert must access their extraversion in order to navigate the outside world. Similarly, a dominant extravert must access their introversion to be in touch with their personal needs.

People who by nature are extraverts can be judged to be codependent. This mistaken classification might originate in a negative judgment toward extraversion, as an attitude that negates the needs of the self. But how could the world function if at least half of its population didn’t focus on the true conditions outside the self and act in a way to accommodate them? Extraversion is a normal, vital attitude; part of nature, evolution, survival and fulfillment.

Codependency can be seen as a forced extreme extraversion. The condition of codependency was first identified in the alcoholism field to describe the emotional, cognitive and behavioral impact of living with a dysfunctional person, such as an alcoholic, addict, or violent rageaholic. The codependent is forced, for survival reasons, to orient themselves to the needs, expectations, and demands of the dysfunctional person. Over time, this mode of functioning becomes so deeply entrenched that the codependent may disconnect from their true identity as they morph into a being focused on placating the controlling tyrant. Codependency becomes a dysfunction itself, as this entrenched pattern of behavior may be repeated in future relationships. Overcoming codependency requires detaching from extreme extraversion, i.e., taking into consideration the needs of the self as well as determining one’s true type. The codependent might in fact be an introvert who has lived a life alien to their true nature. If the codependent is truly an extravert the work becomes one of tempering the extraversion with a deeper appreciation of the self.

Another of Jung’s major contributions to psychology was his unique take on the dynamic of projection. Jung realized that the unconscious psyche literally projects parts of itself, unknown to the ego, onto others outside the self, to reflect back to the ego, like a mirror, the true inner self. If the ego can recognize the reflection as a part of itself, it can take conscious ownership of this unknown quality and take up the challenge of integrating it into the personality where it can find life in a way compatible with the rest of the personality. However, if the ego does not recognize its reflection, whether because it finds it too distasteful, disagreeable, frightening, or attractive, it becomes compulsively attached to the bearer of its reflection. The psyche requires this. The rule is: one way or the other we must stay connected to all of the parts of ourselves. Either we struggle with the painful task of recognizing, accepting, and integrating all our parts or we remain compulsively bound to others who reflect and bear our disavowed parts.

This dynamic might also be mistakenly identified as codependency, as the dominant attitude that emerges when one is compulsively bound to another is another form of forced extraversion. Whether we love or hate the person who bears our disowned or unknown part we cannot withdraw our attention and focus from them; we orient our life in relation to them. The true basis for this apparent extraversion, or codependency, is actually a projection that confounds the ability to separate or detach from a person clearly “not right for them.” The dysfunctional other, whom we cannot separate from, is housing a part of ourselves, which, for better or worse, we must reckon with or remain helplessly tied to, as we live out our wholeness in projected form.

Who are you? Remember, extraversion in and of itself is healthy, normal, vital, and dominant in half of the world population. Just as that half needs to nurture its inferior introversion, the other half needs to nurture its inferior extraversion. However, extraversion can be called upon and driven to extremes in circumstances that give rise to codependency, as well as when a part of the self is unknowingly lost in another. Only deep reflection upon inner truth and outer attachments can clarify who you are and what is in control: extraversion, codependency or projection, or perhaps a combination.

As always, should anyone wish to write, I can be reached at: chuck@riverwalkerpress.com or feel free to post a comment.

Until we meet again,
Chuck