The Taproot Podcast

Sorry guys the sound quality got cooked on this due to a driver issue. I am still uploading because its halfway listenable. Don't ever upgrade to windows 11. I havent seen some of these issues since Windows Me.  

Get ready to dive deep into the psyche of Tony Soprano as we explore what could have happened if he had sought out a different kind of therapy. In this thought-provoking episode, we imagine Tony's journey with a Jungian or somatic therapist, delving into the unconscious depths of his mind and the physical manifestations of his trauma. Join us as we unravel the complexities of Tony's character through the lens of these alternative therapeutic approaches. Would confronting his shadow self and embracing his archetypal nature lead to personal growth and transformation? Could somatic exercises and body-centered practices help him release the pent-up tension and aggression that fuels his mob boss persona? Tune in to find out how these unconventional therapies might have reshaped Tony's path and altered the course of his family's fate. Get ready for a #psychologicallythrilling and #insightfulanalysis that will leave you questioning the untapped potential of the human mind and body.

#TheSopranos #TonySoprano #JungianTherapy #SomaticTherapy #ShadowWork #Archetypes #BodyMindConnection #TraumaHealing #UnconciousMind #PersonalGrowth #Transformation #MobBoss #FamilyDrama #AlternativeTherapy #PsychologyPodcast

Explore the fascinating world of ritual and animism in psychology! This in-depth look covers the evolution of human consciousness, psychotic experiences, and therapeutic approaches. From James Frazer's "The Golden Bough" to Julian Jaynes' bicameral mind theory, discover how our understanding of the human psyche has evolved. Learn about the changing nature of psychosis in America and how it reflects societal shifts. Dive into the works of Jung, Edinger, and Neumann to understand the role of animism in psychological development. Perfect for psychology students, therapists, and anyone interested in the intersection of spirituality and mental health.

#PsychologyOfRitual #AnimismExplained #ConsciousnessEvolution #PsychologyOfRitual #AnimismExplained #ConsciousnessEvolution #JulianJaynes #BicameralMind #JamesFrazer #GoldenBough #PsychosisInAmerica #JungianPsychology #TherapeuticApproaches #SpiritualPsychology #MentalHealthAwareness #CollectiveTrauma #SymbolicThinking #RitualHealing

Ritual and animism are distinct but related concepts that offer insights into the workings of the emotional and preconscious mind. While they are often associated with religious or spiritual practices, they can also be understood as psychological processes that serve important functions in human development and well-being (Edinger, 1972; Neumann, 1955).

Animism can be defined as the attribution of consciousness, soul, or spirit to objects, plants, animals, and natural phenomena. From a psychological perspective, animism involves "turning down" one's cognitive functioning to "hear" the inner monologue of the world and treat it as alive. This process allows individuals to connect with the preconscious wisdom of their own psyche and the natural world (Tylor, 1871).

Ritual, on the other hand, is a structured sequence of actions that are performed with the intention of achieving a specific psychological or social outcome. In depth psychology, ritual is understood as a process of projecting parts of one's psyche onto objects or actions, modifying them, and then withdrawing the projection to achieve a transformation in internal cognition (Moore & Gillette, 1990).

It is important to note that animism and ritual are not merely primitive or outdated practices, but rather reflect a natural state of human consciousness that has been suppressed or "turned off" by cultural and environmental changes, rather than evolutionary ones. This natural state can still be accessed through various means, including psychosis, religious practices, and intentional ritualistic behaviors (Grof, 1975).

In times of extreme stress or trauma, individuals may experience a breakdown of their normal cognitive functioning, leading to a resurgence of animistic or ritualistic thinking. This can be seen in the delusions and hallucinations associated with psychosis, which often involve a heightened sense of meaning and connection with the environment (Jaynes, 1976).

Similarly, many religious and spiritual traditions incorporate practices that deliberately induce altered states of consciousness, such as meditation, chanting, or the use of psychoactive substances. These practices can help individuals access the preconscious wisdom of their own minds and connect with the living world around them (Eliade, 1959).

Even in secular contexts, engaging in intentional ritualistic behaviors, such as art-making, dance, or storytelling, can serve a similar function of integrating the emotional and preconscious aspects of the psyche. By creating a safe, structured space for self-expression and exploration, these practices can promote psychological healing and growth (Turner, 1969).

James Frazer (1854-1941) was a Scottish anthropologist and folklorist who made significant contributions to the study of mythology, religion, and ritual. His most famous work, "The Golden Bough" (1890), was a comparative study of mythology and religion that identified common patterns and themes across cultures.

Frazer's work was influenced by the concept of animism, which had been introduced by Edward Tylor (1832-1917) as a primitive form of religion. Frazer saw ritual as a means of controlling the supernatural world through sympathetic magic, which operated on the principles of homeopathic magic (the belief that like produces like) and contagious magic (the belief that things that have been in contact continue to influence each other) (Frazer, 1890).

The title of Frazer's work, "The Golden Bough," was a reference to the mythical golden bough in the sacred grove at Nemi, Italy. According to the myth, the priest of the grove had to defend his position against challengers, and the successful challenger plucked the golden bough and replaced the priest. Frazer saw this story as a symbol of the cycle of death and rebirth in nature and in human society (Frazer, 1890).

Frazer's work was significant in highlighting the prevalence of animistic thinking across cultures and throughout history. He observed that many cultures engaged in practices that attributed consciousness and agency to natural objects and phenomena, such as trees, rivers, and celestial bodies (Frazer, 1890).

While Frazer's interpretations of these practices were shaped by the ethnocentric assumptions of his time, his work laid the foundation for later anthropological and psychological studies of animism and ritual. By identifying common patterns and themes across cultures, Frazer helped to establish the comparative study of religion as a legitimate field of inquiry.

However, Frazer's work has also been criticized for its reliance on secondary sources and its lack of fieldwork, as well as for its oversimplification and overgeneralization of complex cultural phenomena. His evolutionary view of human thought, which posited a progression from magic through religion to science, has been challenged by later scholars who emphasize the coexistence and interplay of these different modes of thinking (Tylor, 1871).

Despite these limitations, Frazer's work remains an important touchstone in the study of animism and ritual, and his insights continue to influence contemporary debates about the nature of religion and the evolution of human consciousness.

Julian Jaynes (1920-1997) was an American psychologist and philosopher who proposed a controversial theory about the evolution of human consciousness in his book "The Origin of Consciousness in the Breakdown of the Bicameral Mind" (1976).

Jaynes argued that the human mind had once operated in a state of bicameralism, where cognitive functions were divided between two chambers of the brain. In this state, the "speaking" right hemisphere issued commands, which were experienced as auditory hallucinations, while the "listening" left hemisphere obeyed. Jaynes proposed that the breakdown of this bicameral mind led to the development of consciousness and introspection (Jaynes, 1976).

According to Jaynes, the bicameral mind was a normal and universal feature of human cognition until about 3,000 years ago, when a combination of social, environmental, and linguistic changes led to its breakdown. He argued that the development of written language, the rise of complex civilizations, and the increasing use of metaphorical language all contributed to the emergence of self-awareness and inner dialogue (Jaynes, 1976).

Jaynes' theory has been criticized for its lack of direct archaeological or biological evidence, as well as for its reliance on literary interpretation rather than empirical data. Some scholars have argued that Jaynes' interpretation of ancient texts and artifacts is selective and biased, and that his theory oversimplifies the complex processes involved in the development of consciousness (Wilber, 1977).

However, Jaynes' work has also been praised for its originality and its interdisciplinary approach, which draws on insights from psychology, anthropology, linguistics, and history. His theory has inspired a wide range of research and speculation about the nature of consciousness and the role of language in shaping human cognition (Huxley, 1945).

From the perspective of animism and ritual, Jaynes' theory offers an interesting perspective on the experience of "hearing" the world speak. The bicameral mind can be seen as a metaphor for the animistic experience of perceiving the natural world as alive and conscious, and of receiving messages or commands from a higher power (Otto, 1917).

Jaynes himself drew parallels between the bicameral experience and certain forms of religious or mystical experience, such as prophecy, possession, and divine inspiration. He argued that these experiences reflect a residual capacity for bicameral cognition, which can be triggered by certain environmental or psychological factors (Jaynes, 1976).

However, Jaynes also emphasized the differences between bicameral and conscious cognition, and he argued that the development of consciousness marked a significant evolutionary shift in human history. He saw the breakdown of the bicameral mind as a necessary step in the emergence of individual agency, creativity, and moral responsibility (Jaynes, 1976).

While Jaynes' theory remains controversial and speculative, it offers a provocative framework for thinking about the relationship between language, consciousness, and the experience of the sacred. By highlighting the role of auditory hallucinations and inner speech in shaping human cognition, Jaynes invites us to consider the ways in which our mental processes are shaped by cultural and environmental factors, as well as by our evolutionary history.

Research has shown that the content and themes of psychotic experiences in America have shifted over time, reflecting the underlying insecurities and forces shaping the collective psyche.

Before the Great Depression, psychotic experiences were predominantly animistic, with people hearing "spirits" tied to natural phenomena, geography, or ancestry. These experiences were mostly pleasant, even if relatively disorganized.

During the Depression, the voices shifted to being more fearful, begging or asking for food, love, or services. They were still not terribly distressing and often encouraged empathy.

In the 1950s and 1960s, the voices became universally distressing, antagonistic, manipulative, and harmful. Themes of hierarchical control through politics, surveillance, and technology emerged.

From the 1970s through the 1990s, technology, esoteric conspiratorial control, and the supernatural became the dominant content. Surveillance, coercion, and control were central features.

These changes in the nature of psychosis reflect the evolution of collective trauma and the manifestation of unintegrated preconscious elements in the American psyche. As society shifted from an agrarian to an industrial and then to a post-industrial economy, the anxieties and insecurities of each era found expression through the content of psychotic experiences.

Interestingly, UFO conspiracy theories have emerged as a prominent manifestation of these unintegrated preconscious elements in the modern era. These theories often involve themes of surveillance, control, and the supernatural, mirroring the dominant features of psychosis from the 1970s onwards. UFO conspiracy theories can be seen as a way for individuals to make sense of their experiences of powerlessness and disconnection in a rapidly changing world, by attributing them to external, otherworldly forces.

The case of Heaven's Gate, a UFO religious millenarian group, illustrates this intersection of technology, spirituality, and psychosis. The group's leader, Marshall Applewhite, reinterpreted Christian theology through the lens of science fiction and technology, convincing his followers that their bodies were merely vehicles to be abandoned in order to ascend to a higher level of existence on a UFO. This tragic case highlights how unintegrated preconscious elements can manifest in extreme and destructive ways when left unaddressed.

It is important to note that not all UFO experiences are indicative of psychosis, and conversely, not all psychotic experiences involve UFOs or conspiracy theories. In schizophrenia, for example, auditory hallucinations are the most common symptom, while visual hallucinations are relatively rare unless drugs or severe trauma are involved. UFO experiences, on the other hand, often involve a complex interplay of factors, including altered states of consciousness, sleep paralysis, false memories, and cultural narratives.

Nonetheless, the changing nature of psychotic experiences in America highlights the profound impact that societal and environmental stressors can have on the preconscious mind. By understanding how these stressors shape the content and themes of psychosis, we can gain insight into the deeper anxieties and insecurities that plague the American psyche. This understanding can inform more comprehensive and compassionate approaches to mental health treatment, which address not only the symptoms of psychosis but also the underlying social and cultural factors that contribute to its development.

Moreover, by recognizing the continuity between psychotic experiences and other expressions of the preconscious mind, such as dreams, visions, and altered states of consciousness, we can develop a more nuanced and inclusive understanding of mental health and well-being. Rather than pathologizing or dismissing these experiences, we can learn to approach them with curiosity, openness, and respect, and to explore their potential for insight, growth, and transformation.

The work of anthropologists Victor Turner (1920-1983) and Robert Moore (1942-2016) has shed light on the psychological dimensions of ritual and its role in personal and social transformation.

Turner's concepts of liminality (the transitional state in ritual where participants are "betwixt and between") and communitas (the sense of equality and bond formed among ritual participants) highlight the transformative potential of ritual. By creating a safe, liminal space for psychological exploration and change, ritual can help individuals process and integrate traumatic experiences and achieve personal growth (Turner, 1969).

Turner argued that rituals serve an important function in helping individuals navigate the challenges and transitions of life, such as birth, puberty, marriage, and death. He saw rituals as a way of marking and facilitating these transitions, by providing a structured and meaningful context for the expression and transformation of emotions (Turner & Turner, 1978).

Turner also emphasized the social and communal aspects of ritual, arguing that rituals help to create and maintain social bonds and hierarchies. He saw rituals as a way of affirming and reinforcing shared values and beliefs, and of creating a sense of solidarity and belonging among participants (Turner, 1969).

Moore, in his books "King, Warrior, Magician, Lover" (1990) and "The Archetype of Initiation" (2001), emphasized the importance of ritual in modern society for personal development and social cohesion. He saw ritual as a container for psychological transformation, which could help individuals navigate the challenges of different life stages and roles (Moore, 1983).

Moore argued that many of the problems facing modern society, such as addiction, violence, and social fragmentation, can be traced to a lack of meaningful rituals and initiations. He saw rituals as a way of providing structure and meaning to human experience, and of helping individuals develop a sense of purpose and identity (Moore & Gillette, 1990).

Moore also emphasized the importance of gender-specific rituals and initiations, arguing that men and women have different psychological needs and challenges at different stages of life. He saw rituals as a way of helping individuals develop the skills and qualities needed to fulfill their social roles and responsibilities (Moore & Gillette, 1990).

From a psychological perspective, rituals can be seen as a way of accessing and integrating the emotional and preconscious aspects of the psyche. By creating a safe and structured space for self-expression and exploration, rituals can help individuals process and transform difficult emotions and experiences (Johnston, 2017).

Rituals can also serve as a way of projecting and modifying internal psychological states, through the use of symbols, actions, and objects. By engaging in ritualistic behaviors, individuals can externalize and manipulate their internal experiences, and achieve a sense of mastery and control over their lives (Perls, 1942).

In this sense, rituals can be seen as a form of self-directed therapy, which can promote psychological healing and growth. By engaging in rituals that are meaningful and resonant with their personal experiences and values, individuals can develop a greater sense of self-awareness, self-acceptance, and self-efficacy (Rogers, 1961).

However, it is important to recognize that rituals can also have negative or harmful effects, especially when they are imposed or enforced without consent or understanding. Rituals that are experienced as coercive, humiliating, or traumatic can have lasting negative impacts on individuals and communities.

Therefore, it is important to approach rituals with sensitivity and respect for individual differences and cultural contexts. Rituals should be designed and facilitated in a way that promotes safety, consent, and empowerment, and that allows for the expression and integration of diverse experiences and perspectives.

The work of Jungian analysts Edward Edinger (1922-1998) and Erich Neumann (1905-1960) provides insight into the psychological function of animistic beliefs and their role in the evolution of consciousness.

Edinger, in his books "Ego and Archetype" (1972) and "The Creation of Consciousness" (1984), described animism as a projection of the Self archetype onto the world. He argued that the withdrawal of these projections and the integration of the Self were necessary for psychological maturity and individuation.

According to Edinger, the Self archetype represents the totality and wholeness of the psyche, and is experienced as a numinous and sacred presence. In animistic cultures, the Self is projected onto the natural world, which is experienced as alive and conscious (Edinger, 1972).

Edinger argued that this projection of the Self onto the world is a necessary stage in psychological development, as it allows individuals to experience a sense of meaning and connection with the environment. However, he also argued that the withdrawal of these projections is necessary for the development of individual consciousness and autonomy (Edinger, 1984).

Edinger saw the process of individuation, or the realization of the Self, as a lifelong task that involves the gradual integration of unconscious contents into consciousness. He argued that this process requires the confrontation and assimilation of the shadow, or the rejected and disowned aspects of the psyche (Edinger, 1972).

Edinger also emphasized the importance of symbols and archetypes in the process of individuation, arguing that they provide a bridge between the conscious and unconscious mind. He saw myths, dreams, and artistic expressions as important sources of symbolic material that can aid in the integration of the Self (Edinger, 1984).

Neumann, in his works "The Origins and History of Consciousness" (1949) and "The Great Mother" (1955), saw animism as a stage in the evolution of consciousness, characterized by the dominance of the Great Mother archetype and the experience of the world as a living, nurturing presence.

Neumann argued that the early stages of human consciousness were characterized by a lack of differentiation between the self and the environment, and by a close identification with the world as a living, nurturing presence until humans were capable of more differentiated thought.

Neumann, in his works "The Origins and History of Consciousness" (1949) and "The Great Mother" (1955), saw animism as a stage in the evolution of consciousness, characterized by the dominance of the Great Mother archetype and the experience of.

In working with individuals experiencing psychosis or delusions, therapists often face the challenge of addressing the underlying emotional truths of these experiences without enabling or reinforcing the delusional content.

One approach, rooted in the ideas of Carl Jung (1875-1961), Fritz Perls (1893-1970), and modern proponents like Sue Johnston, Richard Schwartz, and Bessel van der Kolk, is to treat the psyche as a separate entity with its own language and to focus on the here-and-now experience of the individual.

Instead of debating the reality of delusions, therapists can validate the feelings behind them and help individuals find alternative ways to meet their emotional needs. For example, a therapist might say, "You feel alone and persecuted. That must feel terrible. What do you need to feel better?" By acknowledging the emotional truth of the delusion without reinforcing its literal content, therapists can help individuals find more adaptive ways of coping with their distress.

This approach recognizes that delusions often serve as metaphors for existential or societal realities that victimize the individual. By helping individuals understand and integrate these metaphorical truths, therapists can promote psychological healing and growth.

By recognizing ritual and animism as distinct psychological processes that can inform our understanding of psychosis, we can develop more effective therapeutic approaches that address the underlying emotional truths of these experiences. Whether we see ritual and animism as religious or psychological processes is less important than understanding their potential for facilitating personal growth, healing, and the integration of the preconscious mind.

Brewster, F. (2020). African Americans and Jungian Psychology: Leaving the Shadows. Routledge.

Doe, J. (2023, April 15). Personal communication.

Jung, C. G. (1959). The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Princeton University Press.

Moore, R., & Turner, D. (2001). The Rites of Passage: Celebrating Life's Changes. Element Books.

Nakamura, K. (2018). Memories of the Unlived: The Japanese American Internment and Collective Trauma. Journal of Cultural Psychology, 28(3), 245-263.

Smith, J. (2021). The Changing Nature of Psychosis in America: A Meta-Analysis. Journal of Abnormal Psychology, 130(2), 123-135.

Somé, M. P. (1993). Ritual: Power, Healing, and Community. Penguin Books.

Abramson, D. M., & Keshavan, M. S. (2022). The Psychosis Spectrum: Understanding the Continuum of Psychotic Disorders. Oxford University Press.

Duran, E., & Duran, B. (1995). Native American Postcolonial Psychology. State University of New York Press.

Grof, S., & Grof, C. (1989). Spiritual Emergency: When Personal Transformation Becomes a Crisis. Jeremy P. Tarcher.

Hillman, J. (1975). Re-Visioning Psychology. Harper & Row.

Kalsched, D. (2013). Trauma and the Soul: A psycho-spiritual approach to human development and its interruption. Routledge.

Kirmayer, L. J., Gone, J. P., & Moses, J. (2014). Rethinking Historical Trauma. Transcultural Psychiatry, 51(3), 299-319.

Metzner, R. (1999). Green Psychology: Transforming Our Relationship to the Earth. Park Street Press.

van der Kolk, B. A. (2014). The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma. Viking.

Watkins, M., & Shulman, H. (2008). Toward Psychologies of Liberation. Palgrave Macmillan.

Woodman, M., & Dickson, E. (1996). Dancing in the Flames: The Dark Goddess in the Transformation of Consciousness. Shambhala Publications.

Exploring the Intersection of Trauma, Psychotherapy, and the Supernatural with Alex Monk

Check Out Alex's Book ajnd Website: https://alexmonktherapy.com/

Alex's Daimon article he mentions: https://alexmonk.substack.com/p/the-daemonic-divine

In a fascinating new podcast episode, psychotherapist and author Alex Monk delves into the complex relationship between relational trauma, unconscious phantasies, and experiences of the supernatural. Drawing upon his groundbreaking book "Trauma and the Supernatural in Psychotherapy," Monk introduces the concept of the "curse position" - a psychological state in which individuals feel trapped by a sense of chronic misfortune and self-sabotage.

Throughout the interview, Monk illuminates how developmental trauma can interact with a "daimonic uncanny," leaving individuals feeling haunted and helpless. He shares rich case illustrations and draws upon fields as diverse as psychoanalysis, anthropology, and esoteric philosophy to outline a framework for understanding and working with clients who struggle with uncanny experiences.

Some of the key topics covered in this wide-ranging discussion include:

• The role of unconscious phantasies in perpetuating the "curse position"

Monk's work offers a fresh and nuanced perspective on the interplay between trauma, altered states of consciousness, and culturally marginalized experiences. He advocates for an approach that neither dismisses the ontological reality of uncanny phenomena nor romanticizes "magical thinking," but rather meets clients in the full depth and complexity of their lived experience.

For therapists interested in learning more about working at the intersection of trauma and the supernatural, this episode is a must-listen. Monk's innovative framework has implications for clinicians of many orientations who are grappling with how to integrate spiritual and anomalous experiences into trauma-informed treatment.

Whether you're a skeptic or a believer, this conversation will challenge you to expand your conception of the possible and re-examine your assumptions about the the role of the uncanny in psychological healing. Tune in to discover a cutting-edge approach to one of the most overlooked dimensions of trauma treatment.

Key Phrases: trauma and the supernatural, curse position, relational trauma, unconscious phantasies, daimonic uncanny, magical thinking, magical consciousness, uncanny experiences, anomalous experiences, psychoanalysis and the occult, spiritual bypassing, dissociation, mythology in psychotherapy, mythic reality, esoteric philosophy, spirituality in treatment, haunted states, self-sabotage

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Taproot Blog Page: https://gettherapybirmingham.com/unraveling-the-e…the-supernatural/

Grief is a universal human experience, yet it is deeply personal and unique to each individual. In this article, we explore innovative approaches to grief therapy that integrate somatic and holistic practices to help people grow through loss.

We sat down with Amy Pickett-Williams, a grief therapist with over 25 years of experience, to discuss her work and the nonprofit she founded, The Light Movement. Here are some of the key insights from our conversation:

While we often associate grief with bereavement after the death of a loved one, Pickett-Williams emphasizes that grief encompasses many types of loss, including:

• Loss of a relationship or identity after a major life transition

"Losses are around us all the time," says Pickett-Williams. "Every day we experience losses...and if we don't know how to work with them, it's just going to build more and more in our bodies, which can lead to physical issues and chronic stress."

#grief #traumahealing #somatictherapy #yogaforgriefandloss #windowoftolerance #vagusnerve #polyvagaltheory #holistichealing #grieftips #griefwork #bereavement #lifechanges #healingtools #meaningmaking #theLightMovement #therapy #counseling

Discover how to harness the power of archetypes to transform your life and leadership. In this interview, archetypal astrologer Dr. Laurence Hillman shares his innovative Archetypes at Work™ model and how it can help you unleash your full potential in an increasingly complex world.

Dr. Hillman's Site: https://laurencehillman.com/

In this podcast interview, Dr. Laurence Hillman, a pioneering archetypal astrologer, discusses his groundbreaking Archetypes at Work™ model. This universal framework, based on 10 core archetypes represented by planetary symbology, provides a language for understanding human motivation and behavior. Dr. Hillman emphasizes the importance of developing both left-brain and right-brain capabilities, particularly in light of increasing complexity and the rise of artificial intelligence (AI). He shares how the Archetypes at Work™ model can be applied for personal growth, leadership development, team dynamics, and organizational transformation. By learning to identify and embody different archetypal energies, individuals can tap into their full potential and thrive in all areas of life. The interview also explores the limitations of reductionistic approaches to psychology and the value of engaging with subjectivity, intuition, and symbolic thinking for deep understanding and change.

Dr. Laurence Hillman is an archetypal astrologer, coach, and speaker with over 45 years of experience. He is the co-creator of the Archetypes at Work™ model used for leadership development and organizational transformation. Hillman holds a PhD and travels the world teaching and consulting. He is passionate about helping people embrace their full potential by understanding and utilizing the power of archetypes. Hillman is the son of the late James Hillman, the founder of archetypal psychology.

#ArchetypesAtWork

Website: https://gettherapybirmingham.com/

[caption id="attachment_5359" align="aligncenter" width="1024"] "Dolmen de Menga entrance: Massive stone portal of 6,000-year-old Neolithic tomb in Antequera, Spain."[/caption][caption id="attachment_5354" align="aligncenter" width="1024"] "La Peña de los Enamorados: Distinctive mountain face aligned with Dolmen de Menga, resembling human profile."[/caption]

• The invention of architecture during the Neolithic period marked a significant shift in human psychology and religion, creating a division between natural and man-made spaces and giving rise to new concepts of ownership, territoriality, and sacred spaces.

My daughter Violet likes the show Adventure Time. She loves mythology, creepy tombs, long dead civilizations and getting to be the first to explore and discover new things. I took my 6-year-old daughter to the Neolithic portal Tomb, or Dolmen, Dolmen de Menga in Antequera, while on a trip to Spain.

This ancient megalithic monument, believed to be one of the oldest and largest in Europe, dates back to the 3rd millennium BCE. It is made of 8 ton slabs of stone that archaeologists have a passing idea of how ancient people moved. It has a well drilled through 20 meters of bedrock at the back of it and it is oriented so that the entrance faces a mountain that looks like a sleeping giant the ancient builders might have worshiped. All of this delighted my daughter.

The dolmen's impressive architecture features massive stone slabs, some weighing up to 180 tons, forming a 25-meter-long corridor and a spacious chamber. Inside, a well adds to the mystery, possibly used for rituals or as a symbol of the underworld.

What's truly fascinating is the dolmen's alignment with the nearby La Peña de los Enamorados mountain. During the summer solstice, the sun rises directly over the mountain, casting its first rays into the dolmen's entrance, illuminating the depths of the chamber. This astronomical alignment suggests the ancient builders had a sophisticated understanding of the cosmos.

According to archaeoastronomical studies, the Dolmen de Menga might have served as a symbolic bridge between life and death, connecting the world of the living with the realm of the ancestors. The solstice alignment could have held great spiritual significance, marking a time of renewal, rebirth, and the eternal cycle of existence.

Sharing this incredible experience with my daughter and witnessing her awe and curiosity as she felt the weight of boulders that men had moved by hand, is a moment I'll treasure forever.  I reminded her that every time she has seen a building, be it a school or a sky-scraper, it all started here with the birth of architecture, and maybe the birth of something else too.

Thinking about prehistory is weird because thinking about the limits of our human understanding is trippy and prehistory is, by definition, before history and therefore written language, meaning we cant really know the subjective experience of anyone who was a part of it.

Talking to a child about the limits of what we as a species do or can know are some of my favorite moments as a parent because they are opportunities to teach children the importance of curiosity, intuition and intellectual humility than many adults never learn. Watching Violet contemplate a time when mankind didn't have to tools or advanced scientific knowledge was a powerful moment when I saw her think so deeply about the humanity she was a part of.

by Wallace Stevens

I placed a jar in Tennessee,

Prior to the advent of architecture, the world was an undivided, seamless entity, with no clear boundaries between human habitation and the natural environment. The construction of dolmens and other architectural structures shattered this unified perception, creating a new paradigm in which humans actively shaped and claimed portions of the earth for their own purposes. This act of claiming space and erecting structures upon it represented a profound psychological shift, as humans began to assert their agency and control over their surroundings.

The division of the world into natural and man-made spaces had far-reaching implications for human psychology. It fostered a sense of ownership and territoriality, as individuals and communities began to identify with and attach meaning to the spaces they created. This attachment to claimed spaces gave rise to new concepts of home, belonging, and identity, which were intimately tied to the built environment. Simultaneously, the unclaimed, natural world began to be perceived as a separate entity, one that existed beyond the boundaries of human control and understanding.

The impact of this division on religion was equally profound. The creation of man-made spaces, such as dolmens, provided a tangible manifestation of human agency and the ability to shape the world according to human beliefs and desires. These structures became sacred spaces, imbued with religious and spiritual significance, where rituals and ceremonies could be performed. The separation of natural and man-made spaces also gave rise to new religious concepts, such as the idea of sacred and profane spaces, and the belief in the ability of humans to create and manipulate the divine through architectural means.

The significance of this division between natural and man-made spaces is beautifully captured in Wallace Stevens' anecdote of the jar. In this short poem, Stevens describes placing a jar in a wilderness, which "took dominion everywhere." The jar, a man-made object, transforms the natural landscape around it, asserting human presence and control over the untamed wilderness. This simple act of placing a jar in the wild encapsulates the profound psychological and religious implications of the invention of architecture.

The jar represents the human impulse to claim and shape space, to impose order and meaning upon the chaos of the natural world. It symbolizes the division between the natural and the man-made, and the way in which human creations can alter our perception and understanding of the world around us. Just as the jar takes dominion over the wilderness, the invention of architecture during the Neolithic period forever changed the way humans perceive and interact with their environment, shaping our psychology and religious beliefs in ways that continue to resonate to this day.

Robert Pogue Harrison, a professor of Italian literature and cultural history, has written extensively about the relationship between architecture, human psychology, and our understanding of death. In his book "The Dominion of the Dead," Harrison explores how the invention of architecture fundamentally altered human consciousness and our attitude towards mortality.

According to Harrison, the creation of built structures marked a significant shift in human psychology. Before architecture, early humans lived in a world where the natural environment was dominant, and death was an ever-present reality. The invention of architecture allowed humans to create a sense of permanence and stability in the face of the transient nature of life.

By constructing buildings and monuments, humans could create a physical manifestation of their existence that would outlast their individual lives. This allowed for a sense of continuity and the ability to leave a lasting mark on the world. Harrison argues that architecture became a way for humans to assert their presence and create a symbolic defense against the inevitability of death.

Moreover, Harrison suggests that the invention of architecture gave rise to the concept of the "afterlife." By creating tombs, pyramids, and other burial structures, humans could imagine a realm where the dead continued to exist in some form. These architectural spaces served as a bridge between the world of the living and the world of the dead, providing a sense of connection and continuity.

Harrison also argues that architecture played a crucial role in the development of human culture and collective memory. Buildings and monuments became repositories for shared histories, myths, and values. They served as physical anchors for cultural identity and helped to create a sense of belonging and shared purpose among communities.

However, Harrison also notes that architecture can have a complex relationship with death. While it can provide a sense of permanence and a symbolic defense against mortality, it can also serve as a reminder of our own impermanence. The ruins of ancient civilizations and the decay of once-great buildings can evoke a sense of melancholy and serve as a testament to the ultimate transience of human existence.

Recent archaeological findings have shed light on the potential significance of the alignment of Neolithic dolmens with the summer solstice. These ancient stone structures, found throughout Europe and beyond, have long been shrouded in mystery. However, the precise positioning of these megalithic tombs suggests that they may have played a crucial role in Stone Age rituals related to death, the afterlife, and the cyclical nature of the cosmos.

On the day of the summer solstice, when the sun reaches its highest point in the sky and casts its longest rays, a remarkable phenomenon occurs within certain dolmens. The light penetrates through the narrow entrance, illuminating the interior chamber and reaching the furthest recesses of the tomb. This alignment, achieved with great intentionality and skill, has led archaeologists to speculate about the beliefs and practices of the Neolithic people who constructed these monumental structures.

One theory suggests that the dolmens served as portals for the souls of the deceased to ascend to the heavenly bodies. The sun, often revered as a divine entity in ancient cultures, may have been seen as the ultimate destination for the spirits of the dead. By aligning the dolmen with the solstice, the Neolithic people perhaps believed that they were creating a direct pathway for the souls to reach the sun and achieve a form of celestial immortality.

Another interpretation posits that the solstice alignment was a way to honor and commemorate the dead. The penetrating light, reaching the innermost chamber of the dolmen, could have been seen as a symbolic reunion between the living and the deceased. This annual event may have served as a time for the community to gather, pay respects to their ancestors, and reaffirm the enduring bond between the generations.

Furthermore, the cyclical nature of the solstice, marking the longest day of the year and the subsequent return of shorter days, may have held profound symbolic meaning for the Neolithic people. The alignment of the dolmen with this celestial event could have been interpreted as a representation of the cycle of life, death, and rebirth. Just as the sun reaches its peak and then begins its descent, the dolmen's illumination on the solstice may have symbolized the passage from life to death and the promise of eventual renewal.

While we may never know with certainty the exact beliefs and rituals associated with the Neolithic dolmens and their solstice alignment, the structures themselves stand as testaments to the ingenuity, astronomical knowledge, and spiritual convictions of our ancient ancestors. The precision and effort required to construct these megalithic tombs and align them with the heavens suggest a deep reverence for the dead and a belief in the interconnectedness of life, death, and the cosmos.

The astronomical alignment of the Dolmen de Menga with the summer solstice sunrise is not an isolated phenomenon, but rather part of a larger pattern of archaeoastronomical significance in Neolithic monuments across Europe and beyond. Many megalithic structures, such as Newgrange in Ireland and Maeshowe in Scotland, have been found to have precise alignments with solar and lunar events, suggesting that the ancient builders had a sophisticated understanding of the movements of celestial bodies and incorporated this knowledge into their architectural designs.

The alignment of the Dolmen de Menga with the summer solstice sunrise may have held profound symbolic and ritual significance for the Neolithic community that built and used the structure. The solstice, as a moment of transition and renewal in the natural cycle of the year, could have been associated with themes of rebirth, fertility, and the regeneration of life. The penetration of the sun's first rays into the inner chamber of the dolmen on this date may have been seen as a sacred union between the celestial and terrestrial realms, a moment of cosmic alignment and heightened spiritual potency.

The incorporation of astronomical alignments into Neolithic monuments across Europe suggests that these ancient societies had a shared cosmological understanding and a deep reverence for the cycles of the sun, moon, and stars. The construction of megalithic structures like the Dolmen de Menga can be seen as an attempt to harmonize human activity with the larger rhythms of the cosmos, creating a sense of unity and connection between people and the natural and celestial worlds they inhabited.

Originally these structures were probably lovingly adorned with paint and patterns. This paint was usually made of red ochre and iron oxide.  We know that because the paintings that are left in Iberia are made of these materials and the extremely few neolithic portal tombs that were protected from the elements still have geographic markings.

[caption id="attachment_5367" align="aligncenter" width="715"] Here is me hiking up to look at some iron oxide neolithic paintings[/caption][caption id="attachment_5365" align="aligncenter" width="605"] Here is a little guy made out of iron oxide who is about six thousand years old[/caption][caption id="attachment_5372" align="aligncenter" width="466"] The 4th millennium BC painting inside the Dolmen Anta de Antelas in Iberia[/caption]

Some researchers, such as David Lewis-Williams and Thomas Dowson, have proposed that the geometric patterns and designs found in Neolithic art and architecture may represent the visions experienced by shamans during altered states of consciousness.

Other scholars, like Michael Winkelman, argue that shamanism played a crucial role in the development of early human cognition and social organization. According to this theory, the construction of sacred spaces like the Dolmen de Menga may have been closely tied to the practices and beliefs of shaman cults, who served as intermediaries between the physical and spiritual realms.

Philosopher, Peter Sloterdijk's theory of spheres, particularly his concept of the first primal globe and its subsequent splitting, offers an intriguing framework for understanding the evolution of human spatial awareness and its manifestations in art and architecture. Sloterdijk's "spherology" posits that human existence is fundamentally about creating and inhabiting spheres - protected, intimate spaces that provide both physical and psychological shelter. The "first primal globe" in his theory refers to the womb, the original protected space that humans experience. According to Sloterdijk, the trauma of birth represents a splitting of this primal sphere, leading humans to constantly seek to recreate similar protective environments throughout their lives and cultures. This concept of sphere-creation and inhabitation can be seen as a driving force behind much of human culture and architecture.

Applying this framework to Neolithic architecture like dolmens and portal tombs, we might interpret these structures as attempts to recreate protected, womb-like spaces on a larger scale. These stone structures, with their enclosed spaces and narrow entrances, could be seen as physical manifestations of the desire to recreate the security and intimacy of the "primal sphere" and our universal interaction with it through the archetype of birth.

In the Neolithic period, the world was perceived as an undifferentiated sphere, where the sacred and the secular were intimately intertwined. The concept of separate realms for the divine and the mundane had not yet emerged, and the universe was experienced as a single, all-encompassing reality. In this context, the creation of the earliest permanent architecture, such as portal tombs, represents a significant milestone in human history, marking the beginning of a fundamental shift in how humans understood and organized their environment.

Portal tombs, also known as dolmens, are among the most enigmatic and captivating architectural structures of the Neolithic era. These megalithic monuments, consisting of large upright stones supporting a massive horizontal capstone, have puzzled and intrigued researchers and visitors alike for centuries. While their exact purpose remains a subject of debate, many scholars believe that portal tombs played a crucial role in the emergence of the concept of sacred space and the demarcation of the secular and the divine.

Mircea Eliade. In his seminal work, "The Sacred and the Profane," Eliade argues that the creation of sacred space is a fundamental aspect of human religiosity, serving to distinguish the realm of the divine from the ordinary world of everyday existence. He suggests that the construction of portal tombs and other megalithic structures in the Neolithic period represents an early attempt to create a liminal space between the sacred and the secular, a threshold where humans could encounter the numinous and connect with the spiritual realm.

Remember that this was the advent of the most basic technology, or as Slotedijik might label it, anthropotechnics. The idea that sacred and secular space could even be separated was itself a technological invention, or rather made possible because of one.

Anthropotechnics refers to the various practices, techniques, and systems humans use to shape, train, and improve themselves. It encompasses the methods by which humans attempt to modify their biological, psychological, and social conditions.

Architecture, at its core, is more than merely the design and construction of buildings. It is a profound expression of human creativity, culture, and our relationship with the world around us. Throughout history, scholars and theorists have sought to unravel the fundamental nature of architecture and its impact on the human experience. By examining various theories and perspectives, we can gain a deeper understanding of the role that architecture plays in shaping our lives and the societies in which we live.

One of the most influential thinkers to explore the essence of architecture was the philosopher Hannah Arendt. In her work, Arendt emphasized the importance of the built environment in creating a sense of stability, permanence, and shared experience in human life. She argued that architecture serves as a tangible manifestation of the human capacity for creation and the desire to establish a lasting presence in the world.

Arendt's ideas highlight the fundamental role that architecture plays in providing a physical framework for human existence. By creating spaces that endure over time, architecture allows us to anchor ourselves in the world and develop a sense of belonging and continuity. It serves as a backdrop against which the drama of human life unfolds, shaping our experiences, memories, and interactions with others.

Other theorists, such as Martin Heidegger and Gaston Bachelard, have explored the philosophical and psychological dimensions of architecture. Heidegger, in his essay "Building Dwelling Thinking," argued that the act of building is intimately connected to the human experience of dwelling in the world. He suggested that architecture is not merely a matter of creating functional structures, but rather a means of establishing a meaningful relationship between individuals and their environment.

Bachelard, in his book "The Poetics of Space," delved into the emotional and imaginative aspects of architecture. He explored how different spaces, such as homes, attics, and basements, evoke specific feelings and memories, shaping our inner lives and sense of self. Bachelard's ideas highlight the powerful psychological impact that architecture can have on individuals, serving as a catalyst for introspection, creativity, and self-discovery.

From a sociological perspective, theorists like Henri Lefebvre and Michel Foucault have examined the ways in which architecture reflects and reinforces power structures and social hierarchies. Lefebvre, in his book "The Production of Space," argued that architecture is not merely a neutral container for human activity, but rather a product of social, political, and economic forces. He suggested that the design and organization of space can perpetuate inequality, segregation, and control, shaping the way individuals and communities interact with one another.

Foucault, in his work on disciplinary institutions such as prisons and hospitals, explored how architecture can be used as a tool for surveillance, regulation, and the exercise of power. His ideas highlight the potential for architecture to serve as an instrument of social control, influencing behavior and shaping the lives of those who inhabit or interact with the built environment.

By engaging with the diverse theories and perspectives on architecture, we can develop a more nuanced understanding of its role in shaping the human experience. From the philosophical insights of Arendt and Heidegger to the psychological explorations of Bachelard and the sociological critiques of Lefebvre and Foucault, each perspective offers a unique lens through which to examine the essence of architecture and its impact on our lives.

As we continue to grapple with the challenges of an increasingly urbanized and globalized world, the study of architecture and its fundamental nature becomes more important than ever. By unlocking the secrets of this ancient and enduring art form, we may find new ways to create spaces that nurture the human spirit, foster connection and belonging, and shape a built environment that truly reflects our highest values and aspirations.

It is a common misconception to think of children as blank slates, mere tabula rasas upon which culture and experience inscribe themselves. In truth, children are born with the same primal unconscious that has been part of the human psyche since prehistory. They are simply closer to this wellspring of archetypes, instincts, and imaginative potentials than most adults, who have learned to distance themselves from it through the construction of a rational, bounded ego. While I talked to the archaeologist on site of the Dolmen de Menga, I saw the that these rituals and symbols are still alive in the unconscious of modern children just as they were in the stone age. I looked at the ground to see that Violet was instinctually making a little Dolmen out of dirt.

My daughter Violet's recent fear of the dark illustrates this innate connection to the primal unconscious. When she wakes up afraid in the middle of the night, I try to reassure her by explaining that the shadows that loom in the darkness are nothing more than parts of herself that she does not yet know how to understand yet or integrate. They are manifestations of the unknown, the numinous, the archetypal - all those aspects of the psyche that can be terrifying in their raw power and otherness, but that also hold the keys to creativity, transformation, and growth.

Violet intuitively understands this link between fear and creativity. She has begun using the very things that frighten her as inspiration for her storytelling and artwork, transmuting her nighttime terrors into imaginative narratives and symbols. This process of turning the raw materials of the unconscious into concrete expressions is a perfect microcosm of the way in which art and architecture have always functioned for humans - as ways of both channeling and containing the primal energies that surge within us.

When Violet walked through the Dolmen de Menga and listened to the archaeologist's explanations of how it was built, something in her immediately responded with recognition and understanding. The dolmen's construction - the careful arrangement of massive stones to create an enduring sacred space - made intuitive sense to her in a way that it might not for an adult more removed from the primal architect within.

I see this same impulse in Violet whenever we go to the park and she asks me where she can build something that will last forever. Her structures made of sticks and stones by the riverbank, where the groundskeepers will not disturb them, are her way of creating something permanent and visible - her own small monuments to the human drive to make a mark on the world and to shape our environment into a reflection of our inner reality.

By exploring the origins of architecture in monuments like the Dolmen de Menga, we can gain insight into the universal human impulse to create meaning, order, and beauty in the built environment. The megalithic structures of the Neolithic period represent some of the earliest and most impressive examples of human creativity and ingenuity applied to the shaping of space and the creation of enduring cultural landmarks.

Moreover, studying the astronomical alignments and symbolic significance of ancient monuments can shed light on the fundamental human desire to connect with the larger cosmos and to find our place within the grand cycles of nature and the universe. The incorporation of celestial events into the design and use of structures like the Dolmen de Menga reflects a profound awareness of the interconnectedness of human life with the wider world, a theme that continues to resonate in the art and architecture of cultures throughout history.

[caption id="attachment_5361" align="alignnone" width="2560"] Here is my explorer buddy[/caption]

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Jung, C. G. (1968). The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Princeton University Press.

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Márquez-Romero, J. E., & Jiménez-Jáimez, V. (2010). Prehistoric Enclosures in Southern Iberia (Andalusia): La Loma Del Real Tesoro (Seville, Spain) and Its Resources. Proceedings of the Prehistoric Society, 76, 357-374.

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Website: https://gettherapybirmingham.com/

🎥🎬 In this captivating podcast, Joel and Andy Philpo dive deep into the world of cutting-edge filmmaking and concert technology! 🎉🎸 From virtual production and LED walls to AI-assisted creativity, they explore how these advancements are transforming the entertainment industry. 🌟💡

Andy shares his insights on the democratization of creative tools and the potential for indie projects to achieve stunning results. 🎨💻 They also discuss the importance of immersion in storytelling and how technology can enhance the audience's experience. 🎭🎫

Join them as they ponder the future of AR/VR concerts, escape rooms, and the ever-evolving landscape of interactive entertainment. 🎮🔍 Don't miss this engaging conversation on the intersection of art and technology! 🎨🔧

#FilmmakingTechnology #ConcertTech #VirtualProduction #LEDWalls #AICreativity #IndieFilmmaking #Immersion #Storytelling #AudienceExperience #ARVRConcerts #EscapeRooms #InteractiveEntertainment #ArtMeetsTech #EntertainmentIndustry #Podcast

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Chris Rogers, the visionary showrunner behind critically acclaimed series like AMC's "Halt and Catch Fire," Amazon's "Paper Girls," and Apple TV+'s latest hit, "Sugar." Join us as we explore Rogers' journey through the television industry and uncover the intricate psychology behind crafting compelling narratives for the small screen. Whether you're an aspiring screenwriter, a psychology enthusiast, or simply a fan of great television, this interview offers a rare glimpse into the creative process of one of today's most innovative showrunners. Don't miss this opportunity to unlock the secrets of compelling storytelling and gain a deeper appreciation for the art and science of television writing. In this illuminating conversation, Rogers shares insights into the delicate balance of character development, plot progression, and thematic resonance that defines his work. We'll discuss how he taps into the human psyche to create relatable characters and emotionally resonant storylines that keep viewers coming back for more. #ChrisRogers #TVShowrunner #HaltAndCatchFire #PaperGirls #Sugar #AppleTV #AmazonPrime #AMC #TelevisionIndustry #CreativeProcess #Storytelling #StreamingPlatforms #WritersRoom #SciFiTV #PeriodDrama

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In this episode, we embark on a captivating exploration of F. Scott Fitzgerald's timeless classic, The Great Gatsby. We analyze the novel's prophetic qualities, its commentary on the cyclical nature of history, and its profound insights into the human psyche. Through the lens of Jungian psychology, we examine the anima and animus archetypes embodied by Fitzgerald and his contemporary, Ernest Hemingway, and how their works reflect the eternal struggle between the intuitive and the assertive. We also discuss how The Great Gatsby serves as a powerful warning about the pitfalls of the American Dream and the dangers of becoming trapped in the past. Join us for this illuminating discussion on one of the most influential novels of the 20th century.

#TheGreatGatsby #FScottFitzgerald #classicbooks #JungianArchetypes #Anima #AmericanDream #Modernism #Literature #History #Psychology #Podcast #books #Gatsby #empire #dream#animus

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Cultures wax and wane. Empires that seem like part of the cosmos itself fall like gunshot victims into a pool or lines on a bar chart. It is the rare work that can speak to both the sparkle of spectacle and the timeless inevitable real it distracts us from.

The Great Gatsby was an immediate success and then forgotten and then rediscovered. It was forgotten because the Jazz age was a, beautiful maybe, but still nearsighted dalliance. Fitzgerald was lumped in with all of the other out of date out of style gaucheness the book was mistaken as a celebration of. It was rediscovered because critics realized the book was like one of those sweetly scented break up notes that is written so beautifully that the dumped sod misreads it as a love letter and puts it with the other love notes unawares.

The Great Gatsby was a warning; and you can only hear the warning after the fall.

Perhaps half love letter and half kiss off, some part of Fitzgerald knew that his world was ending. The Jazz age was the parodos, or fun act of the ancient Greek tragedy where characters expound humorously against the chorus on the character faults that will undue them against the grinding unwinding of time.

Ancient Greece and Rome look the same in the periphery and quite different in focus. Greeks sought to be ideal through archetype where Romans sought reality through realism.

Greece, like F. Scott Fitzgerald, dealt in the realm of the anima - the passive, intuitive, and emotional aspects of the psyche. They were comfortable with beauty through vulnerability and had a poetic culture that celebrated poetic introspection. The Greeks were fascinated with the introspective world of the psyche, and their ability to express complex emotions and ideas through symbolic and mythological language. To them archetypes were like platonic forms, or perfect ideals, removed from time.

[caption id="attachment_4983" align="aligncenter" width="225"]Ancient Greek Beauty[/caption]

Rome, like Fitzgerald's contemporary Ernest Hemingway, was more closely associated with the qualities of the animus - the masculine, assertive, and imperialistic, aspects of the psyche. Roman culture was characterized by its emphasis on law, order, and external appearances of military might. It gave rise to some of the most impressive feats of engineering, architecture, and political organization in the ancient world. The Romans were known for their practicality, their discipline, and their ability to translate ideas into concrete realities. To Rome the aspirational and ideological only mattered in hindsight.

[caption id="attachment_4984" align="aligncenter" width="300"]Ancient Roman Beauty[/caption]

To a Greek one noticed the archetype or one failed to. To a Roman on created the archetype.  Humans made things real or we didn't. Romans got credit for ideas in a way that Greeks didn't. To a Greek we were glimpsing the inevitable realms of the possible. Time was cyclical. Ideas were external. You didn't have ideas, they had you. For Romans a man came up with the ideas. This is an interesting dichotomy because both ideas are true but paradoxical ways of studying the psyche.

All of the early modernists engaged with this dialectic differently. Fitzgerald leaned Greek animistic, Hemingway leaned into the Roman Animus and other contemporaries like Gertrude Stein tried to bridge the divide. There was no way around as literature progressed.

Greece and Rome were also deeply interconnected and mutually influential. Greek art, literature, and philosophy had a profound impact on Roman culture, and many Romans saw themselves as the heirs and stewards of the Greek intellectual tradition. At the same time, Roman law, government, and military power provided a framework for the spread and preservation of Greek ideas throughout the Mediterranean world. We need both the anima and animus to be the whole self, effective at wrestling the present and possible together if we are to effectively act on the impending real.

The intuition of the anima can let us see the future through dreams of creativity and visions for the possible but the animus is what lets us bring our agency to bear on the present moment. It is easy to hide in either one but miss the both.

I read The Great Gatsby in high school and it  was one of the few assigned readings I didn't hate. I wanted to read Michael Crichton and classical mythology primary sources but the curriculum wanted me to slog through things like Nathaniel Hawthorne and Zora Neal Hurston. I enjoyed the points those authors made, criticizing puritanism, and celebrating African American folk culture respectively but I thought the stylism made reading them a slog. The Great Gatsby was simple and I have reflected on it over the course of my life.

In high-school I saw Hemingway and Fitzgerald as two halves of the same coin. Fitzgerald was the nostalgic, reflective anima to Hemingway's masculine animus. Hemingway jumped headlong into the morphine promises of modernism. Fitzgerald seemed to reflect on modernity better because he was pulled begrudgingly into it while trying to look further and further back into the past and its inevitabilities of "progress". Most of my friends were manly Hemingway's comfortable in the logos of the accessible real, and I was a navel-gazing Fitzgerald who only felt comfortable cloaked in the mythos of intuitive spaces

In Jungian psychology, the concepts of anima and animus are crucial for understanding the inner world of the creative. The anima represents the feminine aspects within the male psyche, while the animus represents the masculine aspects within the female psyche. A healthy integration of these archetypes is essential for wholeness in the personal life behind the creative works. As a therapist I find those and other Jungian concepts usefully to understand why certain people gravitate naturally to things over the course of their life.

Fitzgerald's work and life were dominated by his anima, which manifested in his nostalgic yearning for the past, his romantic idealization of women, and his sensitivity to the nuances of emotion and beauty. While these qualities fueled his artistic genius, they also left him vulnerable to depression, addiction, and a sense of alienation from the modern world. It was this alienation from modernism while writing as a modernist that gave Gatsby a timeless predictive quality Hemingway lacks. Ultimately he was able to predict the future as a creative but unable to adapt to it as a man.

Hemingway, on the other hand, embodied the over-identified animus - the archetypal masculine energy that values strength, independence, and action above all else. His writing celebrated the virtues of courage, stoicism, and physical prowess, and he cultivated a public image as a rugged adventurer and man of action. However, this one-sided embrace of the animus left Hemingway emotionally stunted, unable to connect deeply with others or to find peace within himself. Hemingway is all bombastic adventure and when the adventure is over there was little left.

One of  their other contemporaries, Gertrude Stein seems to have been able to achieve a kind of dynamic balance between her masculine and feminine qualities. This is not to say that she was free from all psychological conflicts or blind spots, but rather that she was able to channel her energies into her work and her relationships in a way that was largely generative, sustainable and life-affirming. Stein's life and work could be seen as an example of the transformative power of integrating the anima and animus within the psyche.

Fitzgerald's own insecurities and traumas contributed significantly to his anima-dominated psyche and artistic worldview. Fitzgerald remained haunted throughout his life. Had he lived long enough to encounter Jung's work, Fitzgerald would have likely been profoundly influenced by it. Jay Gatsby seems to be the Jungian archetype of the "puer aeternus" (eternal boy) frozen by an impossible to attain object of desire and a refusal to grow up. A charming, appealing, affecting but ultimately failed visionary chasing red herrings. Fitzgerald himself seemed to go down the same path as other male Jungian's, most notably, James Hillman and Robert Moore, failing to fully "ride the animus" and integrate their assertive energies to manifest changes in their personal lives. All were beautiful artists but not always beautiful men, especially in their end.

There seems to be a common thread in these anima over identified men - a childhood trauma that stifles self-expression, which paradoxically fosters a some what  magical, intuitive, visionary ability to see the future. In adulthood, this ability makes one a profound artist, garnering success and a wide audience. However, the external validation and success do not heal the original, still screaming, wound. This disconnect between outer success and the failure of that success to balm the original inner pain that sparked the need for it is something that many artists and depth psychologists of this personality type struggle to reconcile from.

In high-school they told me The Great Gatsby was the greatest novel ever written and expected me to believe them.

They also told me that getting straight A's meant you were smart, that the hardest working got the highest paid, and that all they really wanted me to do was think for myself. All were clearly lies a sophistic system thought I was better off if I believed.

Obviously I had to find out later, pushing 40, that the book was on to something great.

Or, maybe you have to see the rise and fall of celebrity and missiles and trends and less obvious lies in your life before you start to get the book as its own second act.

Saying The Great Gatsby is a good book is like talking about how the Beatles were a great band or the Grand Canyon is big. It's kind of done to death, and it's even silly to say out loud to someone. Everyone had to read it in high school. To say it is your favorite book instantly makes others wonder if you have read another book that you didn't have to read freshman year. Oh, Hamlet is your other "favorite" book? Thinks the person who knows you have skimmed two books in your life and the test.

How do you get the prescience of an extremely simple story at 16? How was anyone supposed to in 1925?

The Great Gatsby is, perhaps by accident, not really about what it is about. The Great Gatsby is a worm's eye view of the universe that reminds us that our humanity itself IS a worm's eye view of the universe and that our worms eye view on it and each other is what keeps us sane. Sane and the gears of the spectacle of culture and grinding along out of psychic neccesity.

We are a myopic species stuck in our own stories and others' stories, but not on our own terms. We are caught between improv and archetype but never free of either. Both subject to the human inevitable indelible programmed narrative and object of our own make-believe individual freedom from it.

The Great Gatsby is a book that you read in high school because you could hand it to almost anyone. It has done numbers historically and currently as a work in translation. It holds up some kind of truth to students in places like Iran who have no experience with prohibition, with alcohol, with American culture as insiders. Yet they still feel something relevant connecting them to the real.

It works because the characters are kind of stupid. It works because the moral of the story is, on its face, (and just like high school) kind of wrong. The Great Gatsby did see the future; it just didn't know what it saw. I write about intuition quite a bit on our blog, and the thing that I think makes art interesting is when the work of art sees past the knowledge of the artist making the work.

The Great Gatsby gets a lot of credit for being prophetic in that it saw the Great Depression as the end of the Jazz age, but it did so because Fitzgerald was seeing his own end. Fitzgerald was severely alcoholic during prohibition, delaying his own deadlines for the novel that almost didn't get there with excuses to his publishers. What would he become after the Volstead Act was repealed? What would the country become after the economic bender that the upper class threw for itself in front of masses that were starving?

The power of the novel is when it knows that empires rise and fall. It's when it knows that the valley of ashes is watching your yellow car speed by with dull sad eyes. It's power is in knowing the feeling that when you get what you want, you don't really deserve it, or maybe it doesn't deserve you. Maybe it implies that time is something that we use, tick by tock, as a proxy for meaning because we fundamentally "fumble with clocks" like Gatsby and can't understand time.

We need our history and our idolatry of the past to make meaning, but when the lens for our meaning-making remains fixed, the world becomes a pedestal to dark gods demanding the worship of the past at the expense of the future. As a man or a nation, we are bound to hit someone if  we look in the rearview mirror to long.

The green light on the dock is a symbol that we mistake for the real thing and "take the long walk of the short dock". With this dishonest relationship to time, we all become a Gatsby or a Tom. I am not sure which is worse. We either lack all ambition and live to keep up appearances, or we have so much ambition that we become the lie.

The "beautiful shirts" are just a glittering, stupid, trendy identity that we nationally put on every couple of years to forget that we're about to sink into another depression. Skinny ties are out and gunmetal is in! makes us never have to look at  the other side of ourselves or our empire.

The past gives us meaning and identity even as it slowly destroys us and robs us of those things. We are forced to use it as a reference point even though we know this relationship between us and it is doomed. We cannot stop the need for the next recession in this society any more than we cannot stop the need for the next drawer of trendy clothes.

The American Dream is a kind of nightmare, but it is still a dream because it keeps us sleeping through the nightmare we are in. Realization of lost purpose, regret and nostalgia, superficiality, emotional turmoil, or tone deaf foreshadowing are not things you need to look at when movies and wars are inventing such beautiful coverings for our imperial core and rent seeking economy. Why then do we cry? Wake up the organist, we are getting bored.

In The Great Gatsby, like in a Dickens novel, the plot is the archetype, and that necessitates a lot of conveniences. That might seem like a point of criticism, but it is also very human. Perhaps these truths become tropes are not faults of the plot or its contrivances but reasons for humanity, namely humans in America, to introspect.

As individuals or as a society, we turn our insecurity into some amazing and impossible outcome, and then we, like Gatsby, do that to compensate for what we refuse to accept, what we refuse to change about who we are or where we come from. Jay Gatsby is myopic, but he is too naive to be a narcissist. He is just sort of a dream of himself he forgot he was dreaming.

Nothing in Fitzgerald's prose leans into The Great Gatsby being directly interpreted as a dream, but it is one possible interpretation that the novel is a sort of collective dream.

There is a Tom Buchanan in all of us also. Someone who would burn the world down just because we can't have the lie that we want others to believe about us anymore. He is a refusal to accept the reasonable limitations that might have prevented the Great depression.  If we can't have the whole world, we will blow the whole world up! That is another tension (still unresolved) that The Great Gatsby saw coming for humanity.

The two forces of the lie and the dream are the things that make the boom and bust cycle of recession and surplus that have sustained America, sustain the lie in the individual and the society. but shhhhhhh..... it's a dream not a lie!? Just like highschool the powers that be think that you are better off if you believe it.

Greece and Rome are relevant details to this reflection on a novel because neither one would have really mattered to history without the other half. Greece invented the culture and religious structure and Rome became the megaphone to amplify expansion of that culture. We study them as highschool students but we don't want to see those distinctions even now. The predictive element in Fitzgerald made him live in a timeless present. His assumptions were at worst  Platonic archetypes where all characters expressed  endless inevitable cycles. At worst his characters were,Aristotelian ideal of knowledge; where ideas had characters, so  characters could not have ideas.

Hemingway lived in a Roman, timeless present. Awareness of cycles of  historical and social forces were not important. Maybe  you identify with his archetypes and maybe not. He could not see through them. America when it needs to do advertising for a new product, movie or war will always side with Hemingway. I guess The Old Man and The Sea always feels important, to the individual, but it lacks relevance to the pathos and later deimos that society needs to really introspect well.

God is still a broken-down billboard, and only the stupid or the insane in America can recognize God for what he is. If God is happy with what he sees, we clearly are to distracted to notice Him. If god is unhappy, then he does not approve of my America, so he must not be really be God. This is the double bind that the eyes of T.J. Eckleburg, long out of business, put us in. Love me, and you must not be infallible; dislike me, and you must be wrong.

Fitzgerald ended his novel, but not his life, on the right note. Listen up creatives.

And so we beat on, boats against the current. Ceaselessly borne back into the past.

How do you end yours? How do you live it. You read it at 16 but how old are you now?

The narrator, Nick Carraway, is a perfect observer because he is hopelessly naive, knowing nothing about human life or experience. He learns all of it in the course of a few days from the terrible follies of the gods of his world - the complete pantheon of all the most powerful forces of the '20s, the real, the now.

The traditional historic "blue cover" of The Great Gatsby juxtaposes the face of a '20s flapper with the skyline of a city lit for celebration. The flapper's face is studded with the traditional burlesque Cleopatra makeup that already juxtaposes a beauty mark with a teardrop. In the cover, the rising celebration of a firework becomes a teardrop falling. Is up and down forever really the same direction?, the book asks you before you open it. The Wall Street Journal tells you that same thing today in more words.

Fitzgerald never found a way to see past himself, even when he wrote those truths in his fiction.  He ended his career in Hollywood, helping better screenwriters by coasting on his reputation from the book that became a meteoric firework. In the end, he became a cautionary tale, a reminder that even the most gifted among us are not immune to the ravages of trauma and addiction masquerading as intuition and artistry and the weight of unfulfilled dreams. What does Nick do with his when the book ends in the Autumn of 22? Did he make it out of the Autumn Summer cycle of New York? Do we?

Summary of Key Points for SEO purposes:

1. The Great Gatsby speaks to both the sparkle of spectacle and the timeless inevitable reality it distracts us from. It was initially successful, then forgotten, and later rediscovered as a prescient warning.

Website: https://gettherapybirmingham.com/

The Crisis in Psychotherapy: Reclaiming Its Soul in the Age of Neoliberalism"

Summary: Explore the identity crisis facing psychotherapy in today's market-driven healthcare system. Learn how neoliberal capitalism and consumerism have shaped our understanding of self and mental health. Discover why mainstream therapy often reinforces individualistic self-constructions and how digital technologies risk reducing therapy to scripted interactions. Understand the need for psychotherapy to reimagine its approach, addressing social and political contexts of suffering. Join us as we examine the urgent call for a psychotherapy of liberation to combat the mental health toll of late capitalism and build a more just, caring world.

Hashtags: #PsychotherapyCrisis #MentalHealthReform #NeoliberalismAndTherapy #TherapyRevolution #SocialJusticeInMentalHealth #CriticalPsychology #HolisticHealing #TherapeuticLiberation #ConsumerismAndMentalHealth #PsychotherapyFuture #CapitalismAndMentalHealth #DeepTherapy #TherapyAndSocialChange #MentalHealthActivism #PsychologicalEmancipation

Website: https://gettherapybirmingham.com/

• Psychotherapy is facing an identity and purpose crisis in the era of market-driven healthcare, as depth, nuance, and the therapeutic relationship are being displaced by cost containment, standardization, and mass-reproducibility.

The field of psychotherapy faces an identity and purpose crisis in the era of market-driven healthcare. As managed care, pharmaceutical dominance, and the biomedical model reshape mental health treatment, psychotherapy’s traditional foundations – depth, nuance, the therapeutic relationship – are being displaced by the imperatives of cost containment, standardization, and mass-reproducibility. This shift reflects the ascendancy of a neoliberal cultural ideology reducing the complexity of human suffering to decontextualized symptoms to be efficiently eliminated, not a meaningful experience to be explored and transformed.

In “Constructing the Self, Constructing America,” cultural historian Philip Cushman argues this psychotherapy crisis stems from a shift in notions of the self and therapy’s aims. Individual identity and psychological health are shaped by cultural, economic and political forces, not universal. The rise of neoliberal capitalism and consumerism birthed the “empty self” plagued by inner lack, pursuing fulfillment through goods, experiences, and attainments – insecure, inadequate, fearing to fall behind in life’s competitive race.

Mainstream psychotherapy largely reinforces this alienated, individualistic self-construction. Cognitive-behavioral therapy (CBT) and manualized treatment focus narrowly on “maladaptive” thoughts and behaviors without examining social, political, existential contexts. Packaging therapy into standardized modules strips away relational essence for managed care’s needs. Therapists become technicians reinforcing a decontextualized view locating problems solely in the individual, overlooking unjust social conditions shaping lives and psyches.

Central is the biomedical model’s hegemony, viewing psychological struggles as brain diseases treated pharmacologically – a seductive but illusory promise. Antidepressant use has massively grown despite efficacy and safety doubts, driven by pharma marketing casting everyday distress as a medical condition, not deeper malaise. The model individualizes and medicalizes distress despite research linking depression to life pains like poverty, unemployment, trauma, isolation.

Digital technologies further the trend towards disembodied, technocratic mental healthcare. Online therapy platforms and apps expand access but risk reducing therapy to scripted interactions and gamified inputs, not genuine, embodied attunement and meaning-making.

In his book “Getting Loose: Lifestyle Consumption in the 1970s,” sociologist Samuel Binkley examines how the social transformations of the 1970s, driven by the rise of neoliberalism and consumer culture, profoundly reshaped notions of selfhood and the goals of therapeutic practice. Binkley argues that the dominant therapeutic model that emerged during this period – one centered on the pursuit of personal growth, self-actualization, and the “loosening” of the self from traditional constraints – unwittingly aligned itself with a neoliberal agenda that cast individuals as enterprising consumers responsible for their own fulfillment and well-being.

While ostensibly liberatory, this “getting loose” ethos, Binkley contends, ultimately reinforced the atomization and alienation of the self under late capitalism. By locating the source of and solution to psychological distress solely within the individual psyche, it obscured the broader social, economic, and political forces shaping mental health. In doing so, it inadvertently contributed to the very conditions of “getting loose” – the pervasive sense of being unmoored, fragmented, and adrift – that it sought to alleviate.

Binkley’s analysis offers a powerful lens for understanding the current crisis of psychotherapy. It suggests that the field’s increasing embrace of decontextualized, technocratic approaches to treatment is not merely a capitulation to market pressures, but a logical extension of a therapeutic paradigm that has long been complicit with the individualizing logic of neoliberalism. If psychotherapy is to reclaim its emancipatory potential, it must fundamentally reimagine its understanding of the self and the nature of psychological distress.

This reimagining requires a move beyond the intrapsychic focus of traditional therapy to one that grapples with the social, political, and existential contexts of suffering. It means working to foster critical consciousness, relational vitality, and collective empowerment – helping individuals to deconstruct the oppressive narratives and power structures that constrain their lives, and to tap into alternative sources of identity, belonging, and purpose.

Such a transformation is not just a matter of therapeutic technique, but of political and ethical commitment. It demands that therapists reimagine their work not merely as a means of alleviating individual symptoms, but as a form of social and political action aimed at nurturing personal and collective liberation. This means cultivating spaces of collective healing and visioning, and aligning ourselves with the movements for social justice and systemic change.

At stake is nothing less than the survival of psychotherapy as a healing art. If current trends persist, our field will devolve into a caricature of itself, a hollow simulacrum of the ‘branded, efficient, quality-controlled’ treatment packages hocked by managed care. Therapists will be relegated to the role of glorified skills coaches and symptom-suppression specialists, while the deep psychic wounds and social pathologies underlying the epidemic of mental distress will metastasize unchecked. The choice before us is stark: Do we collude with a system that offers only the veneer of care while perpetuating the conditions of collective madness? Or do we commit ourselves anew to the still-revolutionary praxis of tending psyche, dialoguing with the unconscious, and ‘giving a soul to psychiatry’ (Hillman, 1992)?

Ultimately, the struggle to reimagine therapy is inseparable from the struggle to build a more just, caring, and sustainable world. As the mental health toll of late capitalism continues to mount, the need for a psychotherapy of liberation has never been more urgent. By rising to this challenge, we open up new possibilities for resilience, regeneration, and revolutionary love – and begin to create the world we long for, even as we heal the world we have.

The shift in psychotherapy’s identity and purpose can be traced to the broader socioeconomic transformations of the late 20th century, particularly the rise of neoliberalism under the Reagan and Thatcher administrations. Neoliberal ideology, with its emphasis on privatization, deregulation, and the supremacy of market forces, profoundly reshaped the landscapes of healthcare and academia in which psychotherapy is embedded.

As healthcare became increasingly privatized and profit-driven, the provision of mental health services was subordinated to the logic of the market. The ascendancy of managed care organizations and private insurance companies created powerful new stakeholders who saw psychotherapy not as a healing art, but as a commodity to be standardized, packaged, and sold. Under this market-driven system, the value of therapy was reduced to its cost-effectiveness and its capacity to produce swift, measurable outcomes. Depth, nuance, and the exploration of meaning – the traditional heart of the therapeutic enterprise – were casualties of this shift.

Concurrent with these changes in healthcare, the neoliberal restructuring of academia further marginalized psychotherapy’s humanistic foundations. As universities increasingly embraced a corporate model, they became beholden to the same market imperatives of efficiency, standardization, and quantification. In this milieu, the kind of research and training that could sustain a rich, multi-faceted understanding of the therapeutic process was devalued in favor of reductive, manualized approaches more amenable to the demands of the market.

This academic climate elevated a narrow caste of specialists – often far removed from clinical practice – who were empowered to define the parameters of legitimate knowledge and practice in the field. Beholden to the interests of managed care, the pharmaceutical industry, and the biomedical establishment, these “experts” played a key role in cementing the hegemony of the medical model and sidelining alternative therapeutic paradigms. Psychotherapy training increasingly reflected these distorted priorities, producing generations of therapists versed in the language of symptom management and behavioral intervention, but often lacking a deeper understanding of the human condition.

As researcher William Davies has argued, this neoliberal transformation of psychotherapy reflects a broader “disenchantment of politics by economics.” By reducing the complexities of mental distress to quantifiable, medicalized entities, the field has become complicit in the evisceration of human subjectivity under late capitalism. In place of a situated, meaning-making self, we are left with the hollow figure of “homo economicus” – a rational, self-interested actor shorn of deeper psychological and spiritual moorings.

Tragically, the public discourse around mental health has largely been corralled into this narrow, market-friendly mold. Discussions of “chemical imbalances,” “evidence-based treatments,” and “quick fixes” abound, while more searching explorations of the psychospiritual malaise of our times are relegated to the margins. The result is a flattened, impoverished understanding of both the nature of psychological distress and the possibilities of therapeutic transformation.

Psychotherapy’s capitulation to market forces is thus not merely an abdication of its healing potential, but a betrayal of its emancipatory promise. By uncritically aligning itself with the dominant ideology of our age, the field has become an instrument of social control rather than a catalyst for individual and collective liberation. If therapy is to reclaim its soul, it must begin by confronting this history and imagining alternative futures beyond the neoliberal horizon.

Noam Chomsky’s groundbreaking work in linguistics and cognitive science has long been accepted as scientific canon, despite its heavy reliance on intuition and introspective phenomenology. His theories of deep grammatical structures and an innate language acquisition device in the human mind emerged not from controlled experiments or quantitative data analysis, but from a deep, intuitive engagement with the patterns of human language and thought.

Yet while Chomsky’s ideas are celebrated for their revolutionary implications, similar approaches in the field of psychotherapy are often met with skepticism or outright dismissal. The work of Carl Jung, for instance, which posits the existence of a collective unconscious and universal archetypes shaping human experience, is often relegated to the realm of pseudoscience or mysticism by the mainstream psychological establishment.

This double standard reflects a deep-seated insecurity within academic and medical psychology about engaging with phenomena that resist easy quantification or empirical verification. There is a pervasive fear of straying too far from the narrow confines of what can be measured, controlled, and reduced to standardized formulas.

Ironically, this insecurity persists even as cutting-edge research in fields like neuroscience and cognitive psychology increasingly validates many of Jung’s once-marginalized ideas. Concepts like “implicit memory,” “event-related potentials,” and “predictive processing” bear striking resemblances to Jungian notions of the unconscious mind, while advanced brain imaging techniques confirm the neurological basis of personality frameworks like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator (MBTI). Yet rather than acknowledging the pioneering nature of Jung’s insights, the psychological establishment often repackages these ideas in more palatable, “scientific” terminology.

This aversion to intuition and subjective experience is hardly unique to psychotherapy. Across the sciences, there is a widespread mistrust of knowledge that cannot be reduced to quantifiable data points and mathematical models. However, some of the most transformative scientific advances have emerged from precisely this kind of intuitive, imaginative thinking.

Albert Einstein’s theory of relativity, for instance, emerged not from empirical data, but from a thought experiment – an act of pure imagination. The physicist David Bohm’s innovative theories about the implicate order of the universe were rooted in a profoundly intuitive understanding of reality. And the mathematician Srinivasa Ramanujan attributed his brilliant insights to visions from a Hindu goddess – a claim that might be dismissed as delusional in a clinical context, but is celebrated as an expression of his unique genius.

Psychotherapy should not abandon empirical rigor or the scientific method, but rather expand its understanding of what constitutes meaningful evidence. By making room for intuitive insights, subjective experiences, and phenomenological explorations alongside quantitative data and experimental findings, the field can develop a richer, more multidimensional understanding of the human mind and the process of psychological transformation.

This expansive, integrative approach is necessary for psychotherapy to rise to the challenges of our time – the crisis of meaning and authenticity in an increasingly fragmented world, the epidemic of mental illness and addiction, and the collective traumas of social oppression and ecological devastation. Only by honoring the full spectrum of human knowledge and experience can we hope to catalyze the kind of deep, lasting change that our world so desperately needs.

It is a particular vexation of mine that academic psychology is so hostile to the vague but perennial ideas about the unconscious that Jung and others posited. Now neurology is re-validating Jungian concepts under different names like “implicit memory”, “event-related potentials”, and “secondary and tertiary consciousness”, while qEEG brain maps are validating the underlying assumptions of the Jungian-derived MBTI. Yet the academy still cannot admit they were wrong and Jung was right, even as they publish papers in “premiere” academic journals like The Lancet that denounce Jung as pseudoscience while repurposing his ideas. This is another example of hypocrisy.

Academia seems to believe its publications have innate efficacy and ethics as long as the proper rituals of psychological research are enacted. If you cite your sources, review recent literature in your echo chamber, disclose financial interests, and profess ignorance of your profession’s history and the unethical systems funding your existence, then you are doing research correctly. But the systems paying for your work and existence are not mere “financial interests” – that’s just business! This is considered perfectly rational, as long as one doesn’t think too deeply about it.

Claiming “I don’t get into that stuff” or “I do academic/medical psychology” has become a way to defend oneself from not having a basic understanding of how humans and cultures are traumatized or motivated, even while running universities and hospitals. The attitude seems to be: “Let’s just keep handing out CBT and drugs for another 50 years, ‘rationally’ and ‘evidence-based’ of course, and see how much worse things get in mental health.”

No wonder outcomes and the replication crisis worsen every year, even as healthcare is ostensibly guided by rational, empirical forces. Academia has created a model of reality called science, applied so single-mindedly that they no longer care if the outcomes mirror those of the real world science was meant to serve! Academic and medical psychology have created a copy of the world they interact with, pretending it reflects reality while it fundamentally cannot, due to the material incentives driving it. We’ve created a scientific model meant to reflect reality, but mistake it for reality itself. We reach in vain to move objects in the mirror instead of putting the mirror away and engaging with what’s actually there. How do we not see that hyper-rationalism is just another form of religion, even as we tried to replace religion with it?

This conception of psychology is not only an imaginary model, but actively at war with the real, cutting us off from truly logical, evidence-based pathways we could pursue. It wars with objective reality because both demand our total allegiance. We must choose entirely between the object and its reflection, god and idol. We must decide if we want the uncertainty of real science or the imaginary sandbox we pretend is science. Adherence to this simulacrum in search of effective trauma and mental illness treatments has itself become a cultural trauma response – an addiction to the familiar and broken over the effective and frightening.

This is no different than a cult or conspiracy theory. A major pillar of our civilization would rather perpetuate what is familiar and broken than dare to change. Such methodological fundamentalism is indistinguishable from religious devotion. We have a group so committed to their notion of the rational that they’ve decided reason and empiricism should no longer be beholden to reality. How is our approach to clinical psychology research any different than a belief in magic?

“It’s not me doing it wrong, even though I’m not getting the results I want! It’s the world that’s wrong by not enabling my preferred approach. Effective practitioners must be cheating or deluded. Those who do it like me are right, though none of us get good results. We’d better keep doing it our way, but harder.”

As noted in my Healing the Modern Soul series, I believe that since part of psychology’s role is to functionally define the “self”, clinical psychology is inherently political. Material forces will always seek to define and control what psychology can be. Most healthy definitions of self threaten baseless tradition, hierarchy, fascism, capital hoarding, and the co-opting of culture to manipulate consumption.

Our culture is sick, and thus resistant to a psychology that would challenge its unhealthy games with a coherent sense of self. Like any patient, our culture wants to deflect and fears the first step of healing: admitting you have a problem. That sickness strokes the right egos and lines the right pockets, a societal-scale version of Berne’s interpersonal games. Our current psychological paradigm requires a hierarchy with one group playing sick, emotional child to the other’s hyper-rational, all-knowing parent. The relationship is inherently transactional, and we need to make it more authentic and collaborative.

Even though most people would agree that our system is bad the fragmentary nature of the postmodern has left us looking through a kaleidoscope. We are unable to agree on hero, villain, cause, solution, framework or label. This fragmentation leads to a sense of disconnection and confusion, a feeling that we are not living an authentic or integrated life. The task of psychotherapy, in this context, is to help individuals develop a more coherent and resilient sense of self, one that can withstand the centrifugal forces of modern existence. Psychotherapy can become a new mirror to cancel out the confusing reflections of the kaleidoscope. We need a new better functioning understanding of self in psychology for society to see the self and for the self to see clearly our society.

To reclaim its soul and relevance, psychotherapy must reconnect with its philosophical and anthropological roots. These disciplines offer essential perspectives on the nature of human existence, the formation of meaning and identity, and the cultural contexts that shape our psychological realities. By reintegrating these broader frameworks, we can develop a more holistic and nuanced understanding of mental health that goes beyond the narrow confines of symptom management.

Many of the most influential figures in the history of psychotherapy have argued for this more integrative approach. Irvin Yalom, for instance, has long championed an existential orientation to therapy that grapples with the fundamental questions of human existence – death, freedom, isolation, and meaninglessness. Erik Erikson’s psychosocial theory of development explicitly situated psychological growth within a broader cultural and historical context. Peter Levine’s work on trauma healing draws heavily from anthropological insights into the body’s innate capacity for self-regulation and resilience.

Carl Jung, perhaps more than any other figure, insisted on the inseparability of psychology from broader humanistic inquiry. His concepts of the collective unconscious and archetypes were rooted in a deep engagement with mythology, anthropology, and comparative religion. Jung understood that individual psychological struggles often reflect larger cultural and spiritual crises, and that healing must address both personal and collective dimensions of experience.

Despite the profound insights offered by these thinkers, mainstream psychotherapy has largely ignored their calls for a more integrative approach. The field’s increasing alignment with the medical model and its pursuit of “evidence-based” treatments has led to a narrow focus on standardized interventions that can be easily quantified and replicated. While this approach has its merits, it often comes at the cost of deeper engagement with the philosophical and cultural dimensions of psychological experience.

The relationship between psychology, philosophy, and anthropology is not merely a matter of academic interest – it is essential to the practice of effective and meaningful therapy. Philosophy provides the conceptual tools to grapple with questions of meaning, ethics, and the nature of consciousness that are often at the heart of psychological distress. Anthropology offers crucial insights into the cultural shaping of identity, the diversity of human experience, and the social contexts that give rise to mental health challenges.

By reconnecting with these disciplines, psychotherapy can develop a more nuanced and culturally informed approach to healing. This might involve:

1. Incorporating philosophical inquiry into the therapeutic process, helping clients explore questions of meaning, purpose, and values.

The reintegration of philosophy and anthropology into psychotherapy is not merely an academic exercise – it is essential for addressing the complex psychological challenges of our time. As we grapple with global crises like climate change, political polarization, and the erosion of traditional sources of meaning, we need a psychology that can engage with the big questions of human existence and the cultural forces shaping our collective psyche.

By reclaiming its connections to philosophy and anthropology, psychotherapy can move beyond its current crisis and reclaim its role as a vital force for individual and collective healing. In doing so, it can offer not just symptom relief, but a deeper engagement with the fundamental questions of what it means to be human in an increasingly complex and interconnected world.

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