Wholeness. A state in which consciousness and the unconscious work together in harmony. (See also self.)
Although "wholeness" seems at first sight to be nothing but an abstract idea (like anima and animus), it is nevertheless empirical in so far as it is anticipated by the psyche in the form of spontaneous or autonomous symbols. These are the quaternity or mandala symbols, which occur not only in the dreams of modern people who have never heard of them, but are widely disseminated in the historical records of many peoples and many epochs. Their significance as symbols of unity and totality is amply confirmed by history as well as by empirical psychology.[The Self," Ibid, par. 59.]
In terms of individuation, where the goal is a vital connection with the self, Jung contrasted wholeness with the conflicting desire to become perfect.
The realization of the self, which would logically follow from a recognition of its supremacy, leads to a fundamental conflict, to a real suspension between opposites (reminiscent of the crucified Christ hanging between two thieves), and to an approximate state of wholeness that lacks perfection. . . . The individual may strive after perfection . . . but must suffer from the opposite of his intentions for the sake of his completeness.["Christ, A Symbol of the Self," Ibid, par. 123.]
Will. The amount of psychic energy or libido at the disposal of consciousness, implying some control over instinct.
The will is a psychological phenomenon that owes its existence to culture and moral education, but is largely lacking in the primitive mentality.[Definitions,"CW6, par. 844.]
Wise old man. An archetypal image of meaning and wisdom. In Jung's terminology, the wise old man is a personification of the masculine spirit. In a man's psychology, the anima is related to the wise old man as daughter to father. In a woman, the wise old man is an aspect of the animus. The feminine equivalent in both men and women is the Great Mother.
The figure of the wise old man can appear so plastically, not only in dreams but also in visionary meditation (or what we call "active imagination"), that . . . it takes over the role of a guru. The wise old man appears in dreams in the guise of a magician, doctor, priest, teacher, professor, grandfather, or any person possessing authority.["The Phenomenology of the Spirit in Fairytales,"CW9i, par. 398.]
Word Association Experiment. A test devised by Jung to show the reality and autonomy of unconscious complexes.
Our conscious intentions and actions are often frustrated by unconscious processes whose very existence is a continual surprise to us. We make slips of the tongue and slips in writing and unconsciously do things that betray our most closely guarded secrets-which are sometimes unknown even to ourselves. . . . These phenomena can . . . be demonstrated experimentally by the association tests, which are very useful for finding out things that people cannot or will not speak about.[The Structure of the Psyche,"CW8, par. 296.]
The Word Association Experiment consists of a list
of one hundred
words, to which one is asked to give an immediate
association. The person
conducting the experiment measures the delay in
response with a stop
watch. This is repeated a second time, noting any
different responses.
Finally the subject is asked for comments on those
words to which there
were a longer-than-average response time, a merely
mechanical response, or
a different association on the second run-through; all
these are marked by
the questioner as "complex indicators" and then
discussed with the
subject.
The result is a "map" of the personal
complexes, valuable both
for self-understanding and in recognizing disruptive
factors that commonly
bedevil relationships.
What happens in the association test also happens in every discussion between two people. . . . The discussion loses its objective character and its real purpose, since the constellated complexes frustrate the intentions of the speakers and may even put answers into their mouths which they can no longer remember afterwards.[A Review of the Complex Theory," Ibid, par. 199.]
Wounded healer. An archetypal dynamic that
may be constellated
in an analytic relationship.
This term derives
from the legend of
Asclepius, a Greek doctor who in recognition of his
own wounds established
a sanctuary at Epidaurus where others could be healed
of theirs.
Those
seeking to be cured went through a process called
incubation. First they
had a cleansing bath, thought to have a purifying
effect on the soul as
well as the body. Uncontaminated by the body, the soul
was free to commune
with the gods. After preliminary sacrificial
offerings, the incubants lay
on a couch and went to sleep. If they were lucky, they
had a healing
dream; if they were luckier, a snake came in the night
and bit
them.
The wounded healer archetype can be
schematized by a
variation of the diagram used by Jung to illustrate
the lines of
communication in a relationship.[See "The
Psychology of the
Transference," The Practice of
Psychother-apy,CW16, par. 422.
The drawing shows six double-headed arrows,
indicating that
communication can move in either direction-twelve ways
in which
information can pass between analyst and
analysand.
According to this
paradigm, the analyst's wounds, although presumed to
be relatively
conscious after a lengthy personal analysis, live a
shadowy existence.
They can always be reconstellated in particular
situations, and especially
when working with someone whose wounds are similar.
(They are the basis
for countertransference reactions in
analysis.)
Meanwhile, the
wounded analysand's inner healer is in the shadow but
potentially
available. The analysand's wounds activate those of
the analyst. The
analyst reacts, identifies what is happening and in
one way or another,
consciously or unconsciously, passes this awareness
back to the
analysand.
In this model, the unconscious
relationship between analyst
and analysand is quite as important, in terms of the
healing process, as
what is consciously communicated. There are two other
significant
implications:
1) Healing can take place only if
the analyst has an
ongoing relationship with the unconscious. Otherwise,
he or she may
identify with the healer archetype, a common form of
inflation.
2)
Depth psychology is a dangerous profession, since the
analyst is forever
prone to being infected by the other's wounds-or
having his or her wounds
reopened.
No analysis is capable of banishing all unconsciousness for ever. The analyst must go on learning endlessly, and never forget that each new case brings new problems to light and thus gives rise to unconscious assumptions that have never before been constellated. We could say, without too much exaggeration, that a good half of every treatment that probes at all deeply consists in the doctor's examining himself, for only what he can put right in himself can he hope to put right in the patient. It is no loss, either, if he feels that the patient is hitting him, or even scoring off him: it is his own hurt that gives the measure of his power to heal. This, and nothing else, is the meaning of the Greek myth of the wounded physician. ["Fundamental Questions of Psychotherapy," Ibid para. 239.]