The aftermath of our recent American election has reminded me how hard it is to be an Introvert. Moods of anxiety, depression, and anger are thrashing our collective consciousness. It seems as though everything in our culture that we have counted on for inner safety is up for grabs- freedom of speech, religious tolerance, environmental stewardship, effective public education, income equality, healthcare, national security, reproductive rights, and so much more. These are truly times that try men and women’s souls.

The social activism required today appears custom-made for the extraverted individual in order to preserve the strides made by our predecessors towards the establishment of a just society. My impetus for writing this piece is to give courage to a much maligned and misunderstood population (among whom I count myself) because the world may not yet realize how much it needs the introvert.

C.G. Jung coined the term “introvert” almost a century ago. It was a way for him to understand how certain people experienced the world (a.k.a. their “temperament”). A brief distinction between extraversion and introversion looks something like this: Consider two people seeing the same ocean at the same time. When the extroverted person sees the waves he feels a surge of excitement. His energy is outwardly focused. So he grabs his surfboard and runs toward the water. He anticipates an immediate pleasurable experience. When the introverted person sees the waves he feels a surge of ambivalence. His energy is inwardly focused. So he gathers his wits and runs toward himself to consider how the water is affecting the inner experience. He waits to see what attracts his attention. It is the psychic world, richly populated with images, fantasies, emotions, thoughts, intuitions, and sensations. To the introvert these psychic events are facts in the same way that wave and ocean are facts to the extravert.

It is important to remember that we possess introversion and extraversion. Jung reminds us, “There is no such thing as a pure extravert or a pure introvert. Such a person would be in a lunatic asylum.”*

In our present American culture the introvert feels he has no place. He suffers quietly in the mistaken idea that his inner experiences are not as important as the observable objects with which the extravert engages. It takes great strength of heart for an introvert to honor his nature in the face of such overwhelming collective extraversion. But this he must find a way to do. “And that gives him dignity,” Jung writes, “that gives him certainty, because, nowadays particularly, the world hangs by a thin thread, and that thread is the psyche of man.”*

If you think you are an introvert here are 10 things that may help you abide with dignity and certainty in these turbulent times:

1. Know Thyself. Self-trust can be shaky in the introvert. If you learn to host an attitude of curiosity, openness, and love towards the inner world, you will recognize a rich tapestry of experiences. By engaging with these experiences there can be an increase in self-knowledge and compassion. This has the practical effect of moving away from the need to compare oneself to extraverts, and frees up libido (creative energy) to engage in meaningful endeavors.

2. Accept Yourself Exactly As You Are. The world is always a little too much for the introvert. Acknowledge that your nature is introverted: take yourself off the hook of having to appear otherwise; appreciate what you have to bring to the world. Understand your temperament and become a good friend to yourself.

3. Abide In Your Nature. Still waters run deep. Because introverts view the world with an inner subjective lens it is not uncommon for introverts to bring to any endeavor deep insights that extraverts frequently admire and appreciate. Your very nature will contribute to the upliftment of the collective. As Marie-Louise von Franz writes, “The attitude of introversion…acts as a container for the transformation of attitudes and emotions.”**

4. Team Up With An Extravert. Recognize that there are people who effortlessly engage with the external world. In joining with them two things can happen, 1) your engagement with outer objects will be effective and efficient, and 2) your own natural extraversion will be stimulated. Examples of such teams include Barack & Michelle, Jobs & Wozniak, Cupid & Psyche, Eleanor and Franklin Roosevelt.

5. Engage Your Creativity. Much of my psychotherapy practice is populated by creative spirits, and many of these people are introverts. One of the things we do is work through what is called active imagination. This involves helping ego-consciousness tap into the vast and supportive unconscious energies within oneself. There are many ways to do this. You can write a song. Paint a picture. Dance. Work in wood. Re-inhabit a dream and extend it. These activities are for YOU, not for public consumption. No one will be judging you. So feel free to be creative with whatever it is you enjoy. Work slowly. And give it your full measure of devotion.

6. Trust Your Longing For A BFF. Our very closest friends as children were of the same sex. Through such intimate relationships we learned to see ourselves with honesty, confidence, and humor. Someone that can help us see our quirks and challenges helps us feel more secure and lovable exactly as we are. As Harry Stack Sullivan has said, the emotional isolation (of introverts) is longing for “consensual validation” from a close trusted friend of the same gender.***

7. Take Small Extraverted Steps. Personal growth and self-confidence is stirred when we take the risk of sharing our thoughts, feelings, and intuitions with others. Write short posts on social media. Donate to causes with which you feel a particularly strong resonance. Pen an Op-Ed piece. Attend a talk.

8. Locate Your Tribe. This can be a stretch- but an important one. It is not an oxymoron to say that introverts enjoy gathering with other introverts. A group that is curious and accepting of the inner creative work of each of its members is ideal. Examples include fine art cooperatives, spiritual groups, book and poetry clubs, and forming/joining a band that is interested in writing original material.

9. Deepen In Soul. The introverts capacity to attend to inner experience provides a beautiful framework in which to host soulful and spiritual realities. Whether you already have a spiritual practice, or have been wondering about this aspect of life, now is a good time to answer that numinous call towards the journey of the heart.

10. Remember: The World Needs You. Often introverts cannot see what gifts they could possibly offer to the world, so we need reminding. In Elbow’s newly released single Magnificent (She Says)**** a proud father recognizes the transformative power in his tiny child’s introversion. He sings, “This is where/All the biggest questions meet/Where little feet stood in the sand…And where a tiny pair of hands/ Finds a sea-worn piece of glass/ And sets it as a sapphire in her mind… Suddenly I understand… Throwing both her arms around the world/ The world that doesn’t even know/ How much it needs this little girl/ It’s all gonna be magnificent, she says/ It’s all gonna be magnificent.” Find that proud father in yourself, replete with dignity and certainty. And watch what happens.

References

*Jung, C.G. (1977) in C.G. Jung Speaking. (W. McGuire & R.F.C. Hull, Eds.). Pp. 298-303. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

**Franz, Marie-Louise von, (1980) in Alchemy. (D. Sharp, Ed.). P. 86. Toronto, Canada: Inner City Books

*** Sullivan H.S. (1966) in Conceptions Of Modern Psychiatry. P. 288. New York, NY: W.W. Norton & Company

****Garvey, G. et al. (2017). Magnificent (She Says) (Recorded by Elbow). On Little Fictions. London: Universal Music

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One way to understand depression is sorrow brought on by a misplacement of soul. Somewhere along the journey of our life we locked away our true self to keep it safe. And now we no longer remember where we hid it.

The experiences that arise, including tearfulness, exhaustion, and despondency, are purposeful messages from the unconscious. The soft voice of the soul sends up these dark emotions so that we take notice of the pain of being separated from the deep Self. What is needed is a way to facilitate a conversation between our conscious personality and the unconscious (hidden) heart-essence.

This is the work of depth psychotherapy: to help mirror the personal world of the individual psyche in communion with its own depths. In depression this communion takes the form of a turning-inward. By heeding this call the life-giving waters of our long lost soul might be located to nourish us once again. Music is one way to assist this process.

Communion through music can be regressive: we begin to acknowledge the grief of separation between our present self and the part that we hid. Simultaneously, we learn to appreciate the longing itself as a legitimate practice. We develop self-compassion for ourselves as small children, where we learned to create a “false self” in order to protect us from being harmed while ensuring that we receive the love and nurturance we need, and where we learned to bury our souls. Music can help bring awareness to the truth of the pain.

Communion through music can also be progressive: we make contact with the part of ourselves that is already strong, healthy, and full of vitality- the authentic Self that has been hidden all this time. Music can help us excavate the true self underneath the persona, so long repressed from consciousness, and experience its joy and potency directly.

I’m not offering any thoughts here about the theories of music therapy. (If this interests you there are plenty of resources, including www.musictherapy.org). Instead, it is better if you are able to engage in your own experiential learning through listening.

Below are music selections from my own subjective experience as an audiophile, musician, and psychotherapist. Some of the pieces are melancholic. These tracks are designed to foster a regressive experience- the pain of the separation. Some are in direct contrast to the depressive mood, allowing for a progressive experience- to feel the joy of reunification with the Self. And many of the pieces do both.

Suggestions:

• Listen through good stereo speakers or quality ear buds. Do not listen through the speaker on your phone or laptop.
• Close your eyes
• Give each piece of music your utmost attention
• Welcome any images & feelings that arise
• Listen all the way through
• Try to enjoy the process

Pieces (in no particular order)

Morton Lauridsen: Lux Aeterna (album): O Magnum Mysterium (track)
Jose Gonzalez: Veneer (album): Crosses (track)
The Maccabees: Given To The Wild (album): Pelican (track)
Gabby Pahinui: A Place Called Hawaii 2 (album): How D’Ya Do? (track)
Sasha: Involver (album): Talk Amongst Yourself (track)
J.S. Bach: Lute Music (Walter Gerwig): Lauternwerk (album): Praludium in C minor & Fuge in G Minor (tracks)
George Duke: Don’t Let Go (album): Yeah, We Going (track)
Steve Tibbetts & Troying Drolma: Selwa (album): Chendren (track)
Zac Brown Band: Pass The Jar Live (album): Free/Into the Mystic (track)
Weekend Players: Pursuit Of Happiness (album): I’ll Be There (track)
Jeff Beck: Blow By Blow (album): Diamond Dust (track)
Ralphe Vaughan Williams: Symphony No.5/ Andrew Previn, conductor (album): Third Movement (track)
Nick Mulvey: First Mind (album): Fever To The Form (track)
Peter Gabriel: Scratch My Back (album): Mirrorball (track)
Ursula 1000: Kinda’ Kinky (album & track)
Richard Strauss: Renee Fleming: The Beautiful Voice (album): Morgen, Op.27, No.4 (track)
Pat Metheny and Lyle Mays: As Falls Wichita So Falls Wichita Falls (album & track)
Me’Shell Ndegeocello: Peace Beyond Passion (album): The Way (track)
Jean-Luc Ponty: Cosmic Messenger (album): Egocentric Molecules (track)
Death Cab For Cutie: Plans (album): Marching Bands Of Manhattan (track)
Earth, Wind & Fire: Gratitude (album): Can’t Hide Love (track)
Aaron Copland: The Tender Land Suite (album & track)
Darlingside: Birds Say (album): White Horses (track)
Bill Evans: Symbiosis (album): Second Movement- A (track)
Yes: Close To The Edge (album): Siberian Khatru (track)

*Timothy Leary (1967) from his album “Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out” on Mercury Records

 

 

 

 

 

Midway through the journey of our life, I found
myself in a dark wood, for I had strayed
from the straight pathway to this tangled ground.
How hard it is to tell of, overlaid
with harsh and savage growth, so wild and raw
the thought of it still makes me feel afraid.
Death scarce could be more bitter...
Just how I entered there I could not say.¹

Midlife is a phase of development as natural as the change of seasons. At this time of life Nature has built into us a drive towards becoming the person we were always meant to be. To this end, we find ourselves longing to lead a more meaningful and soulful life, to find a vocation that speaks to the heart, to complete unfinished business from childhood, re-assess our core values, deepen relationships, and forge a new sense of self.

As this process begins we find ourselves stranded between who we were and who we are to become. We experience angst and confusion as in no other time in our lives. We not only find ourselves in “this tangled ground,” but trying to make our way through it is downright maddening.

Understandable. We have worked so long to know and define who and what we are. Our resistance to being changed is strong. We don’t want to acknowledge or accept that we are in the midst of some kind of un-asked-for inner renovation.

What makes this undertaking even harder is that the people closest to us seldom understand the depths of our suffering. On a collective scale it is poorly understood by our externally focused and wildly extroverted American culture. Since few seem to understand and appreciate the inner fortitude needed to navigate this journey I wanted to share my hit on what happens, why, and where it leads. Make no mistake- this is mighty work. And is best undertaken with a trusted ally, someone who has traveled the paths, and knows the way through.

“Nature seems to have built into organisms an innate
healthy-mindedness; it expresses itself in self-delight,
in the pleasure of unfolding one’s capacity into the world,
in the incorporation of things in that world.”²

It may be helpful to briefly review what we’ve gone through to make it to midlife. Birth to about age 35 is mainly driven by character formation. In childhood our prime instinct is to survive. Nature has installed in us a variety of behaviors to insure that we bond with our caregivers so that we are safe. The degree to which we develop a secure attachment with them is the degree to which we can live with a sense of inner trust. We can then engage with physical world reality full of hope, faith, and competence. And we can bring the same level of self-assurance to our emerging creative life.

Adolescence is a shakier but equally important time for character formation. It brings the sexual drive and puts us in direct contact with our creatureliness as sexual beings (with all of the relational challenges that poses). It also brings intense glimpses into personal potentials, collective idealism, and an instinctive need to belong to a group that shares these ideals. If enough mirroring and social acceptance happens we might get to enjoy a high level of self-esteem (how one feels in relation to others) and self-confidence (how one feels about oneself).

But more than anything, this is a time when profound questions are generated from deep within our hearts, questions that return at midlife. Examples are how am I unique? How do I cultivate this? Give it shape? What gifts do I carry for the world? What should I expect back from it? How can I live into this uniqueness with the full force of my mind, body, heart and soul? How might it bring meaning both to my life and to those around me?

In adulthood these adolescent potentialities and dreams can get buried beneath wider collective social demands. We get swept up in running with the herd- pulling one’s weight in the world through a career, the starting of a shared life that may include marriage, children, preschools, PTA meetings, managing in-laws, owning property, saving for the future.

So the overall work of the first half of life is developing a strong ego, built from the feedback we get from those around us in response to everything we do. If all goes well, and often it does not, we develop confidence in knowing we are lovable, capable, grounded in reality, can trust others, and that our self-definitions are clear and firm.

“When the world defeats the ego, the soul can float;
then fantasy and imagination…have a chance
to enter the scene and be noticed.”³

But somewhere between ages 35 and 50 this begins to change. There is a feeling of losing our way, being unmoored from reality, of questioning our sense of self. The “self-delight” of engaging with the outer world loses its charm. The life force, once directed outward, introverts. I like to use the analogy of the tides. In the first half of life we are like the ocean wave that enjoys the sheer energy it contains to surge forward, scooping up everything it encounters and incorporating it. In midlife the wave has landed ashore, but before it returns to its own depths there is a period of inertia- a slack tide. The midlife space in which we find ourselves feels like slack tide, like one is living in limbo. Floating. Directionless.

This floating feeling is extremely unsettling. As Murray Stein writes, “a person seems to stand perpetually at some inner crossroads, confused and torn.”⁴ In my clinical work, as well as my own midlife crossing, new types of thoughts and emotions arise at this time. They can signal the start of the midlife transformational process. Some are on the manic side; unpredictable moodiness, impulsivity, new and unusual sexual energy and fantasies, a myopic focus on a hobby, out-of-the blue fits of anger or frustration, and a susceptibility to critical comments by others that leads to self-doubt. Some are on the depressive side; a sense of being disconnected from other people, a lack of energy, overwhelm with simple everyday tasks, sadness at the loss of youthful physical vitality, hopelessness that leads to a desire to isolate oneself, thoughts of being a fraud, confusion about your role in relationships, loss of understanding the nuances in social situations, boredom, and dullness of thought.

This experiential intensity shakes us up. We start to realize that something inside is different, more problematic. Questions get generated similar to those in adolescence. Who am I really? Why am I here? “What is my true calling? Where is my true Self? What is happening to me?” (“This is not my beautiful house/This is not my beautiful wife”⁵ ).

To be clear- by “I” and “me” I mean ego- the conscious personality, built up, bit by bit, by the thoughts we think, the emotions we feel, the sensations we endure, the possibilities we intuit, and the memories we store. By Self I mean the as-yet-to-be-discovered center of an unlimited and indefinable total psychic reality, or soul, which contains the ego.

“Without noticing it, the conscious personality is pushed
about like a figure on a chessboard by an invisible player.
It is this player who decides the game of fate,
not the conscious mind and its plans.”⁶

As this process unfolds the Self throws up forces within the personality that work in opposing directions at the same time. One direction is regressive and works to resolve first-half-of-life issues; to “work-through” some of the tasks that were left unfinished. The trick here is to do it consciously. As James Hollis writes, “those who travel the passage consciously render their lives more meaningful.”⁷

We can tell that regression is happening when we notice things like a heightened need to be felt, seen, and heard by another- to be nurtured in ways our mothers never could. Other experiences may include being driven to take up activities we did when we were teenagers, sexual fantasies involving older people, an emotional tug at the heart to re-connect with family and friends, and jumping into new activities that promise excitement without stopping to consider the consequences. We may also experience new kinds of dreams. These can include being physically held or supported by an older/wiser person, images of token animals, or a return to our childhood home.

The developmental tasks calling to be worked through can include wanting to feel securely attached to another, developing better boundaries with others, resolving narcissistic wounds, and finding peace from early traumas. It is a great time to gain insight into the defenses we use to keep us from living honestly and courageously. This last one is vital yet tricky, since defense mechanisms, like denial, repression, etc., are unconscious. Therapists can be valuable allies for this work.

The other direction is progressive and works to connect us with a new form of life-giving energy that is not generated by the conscious personality. It starts as a tiny glimmer of something unnamed in our heart, as a twinge of intuition about something transpersonal awakening inside of us. If we are able to bring awareness to these dim experiences then we begin to have a sense of something soulful arising. C.G. Jung used the term religio to signify this natural movement of the Soul to re-inspect one’s life and connect with a richer and expansive transpersonal experience.

We can tell that this progression is happening when we start to notice a sense of being connected to something bigger than oneself, a new curiosity about a religion or spiritual practice, a novel feeling of kinship with many people and greater tolerance for any differences, paring down the focus of work, interests, and hobbies to things that feel meaningful. We may take less interest in other people’s views because we are working on nurturing our own. We also have thoughts that the talents we possess were not made by us but have been given to us; we find ourselves saying “I don’t know” more often; dreams emerge with themes of ancient civilizations, figures of the gender opposite our own, scenes of expansive vistas/horizons, religious imagery, and many more. Therapists trained in the Analytic (Jungian) tradition can be extremely valuable allies in helping to facilitate the budding Ego/Self relationship.

“Man will be forced to develop his feminine side,
to open his eyes to the psyche and to Eros.
It is a task he cannot avoid.”⁸

Men seem to suffer at midlife more acutely than women. Because, in general, they are less attuned to their inner world. Men are less discerning about their feelings and emotions. In addition, they tend to suffer this midlife change in isolation, which makes things even harder for them. Women seem to be much better at feeling connected to their inner processes as they happen in real time, and are more apt to reach out to others. Many women live fundamentally from a place of Eros (the ability to share empathic attunement and physical relatedness), something men are in need of learning.

What Nature seems to provide at midlife is the opportunity to balance out the personality. We develop inner qualities that were not central to the developmental needs in the first half of life. For men these are new “feminine” qualities, including empathy, humility, compassion, relatedness (as Eros), caring, patience, balance, and sincerity.

For women experiencing midlife woes, cultivating Eros seems to focus on social differentiation. This may include making boundaries with others (so that a clearly defined and independent “I” is relating with others on equal terms), redefining the relationship with one’s parents, children, or mate, an interest in belonging to a women’s group, renewed attention on physical health, and an attraction toward mastering a meaningful new vocation, skill, talent, or cause.

“The telling question of a person’s life is their relationship to the infinite.”⁹

So where is all this leading? The genuine work of midlife is more than re-balancing the personality, more than getting comfortable with the floating. It is noticing that our sense of self is changing profoundly. The vital lie of the character we erected in the first half of life becomes threadbare, and through the holes we get glimpses of a transcendent presence within.¹⁰

Here is the inner gold we have been struggling to find in the course of the midlife journey. We begin to notice a new inner light. It carries new knowledge and an unshakable sense of self that is bigger than the narrow confines of the ego. We soon discover that this new experience is self-shining, spontaneously present, deeply soulful.

Awareness of this inner presence allows us to witness all the thoughts, emotions, and somatic experiences as they arise without being blindsided by them or giving in to them and acting out. By tasting this new soul-filled center we start to feel connected to all beings, and our relationships begin taking on compassion and love. It is from this place that we find answers to our most important fundamental questions. If we know how to listen.

Over time what emerges is the capacity to better host ambiguity, paradox, and mystery in Nature, in others, and most importantly, in ourselves. We develop patience with not knowing. We become better attuned to inner experiences, including our ever-changing moods, thoughts, sensations, perceptions, and intuitions. With enough conscious attention to the struggles of midlife we arrive at the Self-  the limitless center to which we experience an effortless union and from which we derive new personal meanings.

References

¹Alighieri, D. (2002). Inferno (M. Palma, Trans.) New York, NY: Norton

²Becker, E. (1973). The Denial Of Death. New York, NY: Simon & Schuster

³Stein, M. (1983). In Midlife. Putnam, CT: Spring Publications

⁴Ibid.

⁵Byrne, D. et al. (1983). Burning Down The House (Recorded by Talking Heads). On Speaking In Tongues. New York, NY: Sire

⁶Jung, C. G. (1966). The persona as a segment of the collective psyche. In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.) (Vol. 7, p. 161). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

⁷Hollis, J. (1993). The Middle Passage. Toronto, Canada: University Of Toronto Press

⁸Jung, C. G. (1964). Women in Europe. In H. Read et al. (Eds.), The collected works of C. G. Jung (R. F. C. Hull, Trans.) (Vol. 10, p. 125). Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

 ⁹Jung, C.G. (1933) Modern man in search of a soul. New York, NY: Houghton Mifflin

¹⁰Becker, The Denial of Death