The Personal Myth I: What is it?
In connection with his crisis in the 1910s, Carl Gustav Jung found that he no longer had a myth. The Christian myth, in which he had grown up, was no longer his. From within came the pressing question: “But then what is your myth – the myth in which you do live?” He had no answer. (Memories, Dreams, Reflections, p. 195.) This was followed by several years of inner work that resulted in The Red Book, which was both deeply personal and mythological. In his autobiography Jung suggests that we can only understand ourselves through myth. (MDR, p. 17.) But what is a personal myth, really?
Here and there, Jung makes hints, but they remain just that—hints. The personal myth is one of the ideas that was important to Jung, something he discussed with colleagues and patients, but did not develop in his official writings.
Jungians have picked up on these hints and emphasized the importance of understanding one’s myth. The distinguished Jungian analyst and author Robert A. Johnson never misses an opportunity to stress how important—indeed, crucial—it is to understand one’s myth. But what does he actually mean by that? Books have been written on the subject, lectures have been given by Jungian analysts and Jungian-inspired writers and speakers, yet the concept remains mostly unclear or contradictory.
I am one of those who have felt intuitively drawn to the idea of the “personal myth.” I have not been able to explain what it is or what its value consists of, but something within me stirs whenever I encounter the concept. In recent months, I have studied the subject from a layman's perspective, which has led to reflections and insights that I would like to share. This is the first of four articles.
In the summary of ”The Psychology of the Child Archetype”, Jung argues that since human psychology is based on archetypal structures, this gives rise to mythological motifs. Archetypal images always have a mythological quality. We can only understand ourselves—what we are from an inner standpoint—through myths; by seeing ourselves as the embodiment of a mythic idea. To “live this myth,” as expressed in ”The Child Archetype”, is satisfying and fruitful for those with the corresponding temperament. Without conscious access to myth, a person becomes disconnected from his or her psychic foundation—what Jung often calls one’s instincts. This “dissociation,” as Jung frequently repeats, is the primary neurosis of our time. Modern humans must reconnect with their instincts, or in this context, their myth—what one could also call their true, objective self.
The personal myth, in other words, describes who one truly is—or rather, as we will return to, what one is. Without this knowledge, it is difficult not to be neurotic, since neurosis is by definition a discord with oneself—or put differently, “a mild dissociation.” (Jung Lexicon.) Awareness of the myth enables the ego to align with the original personality and integrate it into life.
Craig Chalquist, PhD, argues that behind the myth lies an archetype that is particularly prominent in our inner life. (“Your Personal Myth and Archetype,” JungPlatform.) This archetype is an inner driving force we are born with, which, so to speak, seeks to be realized in our lives. The psyche’s tendency to personify content, combined with the mythic nature of the unconscious, allows this archetype to be understood as a mythic figure, in a broad sense, that gives rise to the personal myth in our lives.
Jung writes in a letter to a Dr. Schmitt on January 5, 1942: “All of a sudden and with terror it became clear to me that I have taken over Faust as my heritage.” (Letters, Vol 1.) This can only be understood to mean that Jung regarded Goethe’s Faust as his personal myth. Robert A. Johnson, for his part, states: “Much of my own mythology, that myth which was incorporated in me at the beginning of my being, corresponds with the myth of the monk.” (“In Search of the Holy Grail,” YouTube.) For my own part, the Greek god of smithing, Hephaestus, expresses my personal myth.
I mention these three examples to illustrate how broadly one can understand “personal myth.” Through the personal myth, one realizes not so much who one is, but what one is—an alchemist, a monk, a craftsman. But as always with archetypal expressions, one must not take this literally. The archetypal image that dominates much of one’s inner life—whether one is aware of it or not—should be understood as a symbol. In the same interview, Johnson describes his personal myth as follows:
“I live [the monk] in its modern form and I don't take on the cliches of monasterism. I don't wear curious clothing or stick to a particular order. But still, if somebody asked me what my myth was, I would say in large part that I'm a monk, or... perhaps a hermit. That doesn't mean that I'm unrelated, but it gives some idea of what you can expect from me and what you can't expect from me.”
Robert A. Johnson is thus describing his true personality; he is a man who prefers to live alone, contemplate, and write. In this way, he embodies his myth and allows it to live through him. This means that he lives in accordance with, as Jung often put it, his “instincts.” But Johnson emphasizes the symbolic understanding of the personal myth; he does not take it literally. He does not enter a monastery or dress in a particular way—he is not literally a monk, just as Jung is not literally an alchemist making a pact with the devil; and I, for my part, forge in a symbolic rather than a literal sense. One allows the archetypal drive to flow through oneself. This requires humbling oneself, giving up the ego’s egocentric ambitions, and, to some extent, becoming a vessel for the daemon—“the secret workmanship … who shapes our fates.” (”The Significance of the Father in the Destiny of the Individual,” par. 744.)
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