The Personal Myth III: How do I find it?
The study of Jungian psychology largely includes mythology and other expressions of the collective unconscious. We have seen that our archetypal core structure is mythological in nature. Myths, fairy tales, mysticism, astrology, and so on, are projections of the contents of the collective unconscious. Conversely, studying these fields provides an understanding of our archetypal core structure, which in turn grants a symbolic comprehension that is practically useful, for example, in dream interpretation. Consequently, myths and fairy tales are part of the curriculum for becoming a Jungian analyst (to a greater or lesser extent, depending on the institute). "Mythology is the textbook of archetypes," as Jung puts it in Nietzsche’s Zarathustra (p. 24). Later in the same seminar, he adds that the gods of mythology aptly represents "the human dispositions into which man is born." (p. 219.)
This is relevant to our discussion because the personal myth tends to personify itself as a mythical figure. Craig Chalquist recommends studying mythology broadly for at least a year before beginning the work of discovering one’s own myth. ("Your Personal Myth.") One must be able to navigate this vast landscape before searching for something specific.
We have seen that the personal myth stems from an archetype that is particularly prominent within us. This archetype functions as the driving force behind the myth that seeks to manifest in our lives. It can also, I believe, be referred to as the daemon. (See "What Did Jung Mean by Daemon?" on this blog.) The subject of personal myth and daemon also includes what Jung calls a "calling," which he equates with "the whispers of the daemon." He considers Faust to be the most well-known example of a person with a calling as a result of the daemon. ("The Development of Personality," par. 299-300.) Jung himself saw Faust—the deviant alchemist who perilously follows his calling—as his own personal myth.
The personal myth is precisely about this—what is it within me that seeks to manifest in my life? There are certain exercises one can do to discover this. For example, one might ask: When do I feel whole, simply myself? When do I suddenly realize that hours have passed while I have been engaged in something? What genuinely engages me—and if nothing does, what do I feel would be genuinely engaging? Here, it is important to distinguish between one's identity, one's rational approach, and one's gut feeling; between rational confirmation and a physical, possibly more emotional, reaction.
One can also contemplate who one was as a child, before all the adaptations to the external world shaped one into who one is today. What did I enjoy doing? When was I completely myself? What stories fascinated me? And so on. When Jung, in middle age, found himself at an impasse and faced the question of his personal myth, he began to play as he had done as a child. He built houses and small towns out of stones on the beach. He reconnected with who he had once been before his surroundings—school, university, professional life, social life—began shaping him. Jung became successful, but as a middle-aged man, he realized that over the course of his career, he had become something other than who he originally was. He felt compelled to find his way back to himself, and in doing so, he discovered his own myth, planting the seeds for what would become his own school of thought—analytical psychology. (MDR, The Red Book.)
Another approach one can experiment with is researching the etymology of one's name, studying one's horoscope, or exploring other circumstances related to oneself that were not personally chosen. This can be done entirely playfully—one does not need to believe in astrology, for example, to investigate whether something within it resonates with an inner truth. Similarly, one can revisit significant dreams from one's life, as well as major life events, and view them symbolically, as if they were parts of an actual myth, legend, or folktale. In this way, one can craft a symbolically expressed narrative of one's life.
Once one begins to connect with one's personal myth, the next step is to find an image that personifies it. As myths, fairy tales, and dreams illustrate, this aligns with the nature of the collective unconscious. Jung stated that analogy formation characterizes the life of the psyche. (Aion, par. 414.) We have always used mythological figures to express archetypal energies.
Here, the knowledge we discussed at the beginning of this section becomes useful. Which mythological figure (in a broad sense) corresponds to this myth? It is essential to continue thinking in symbols (or analogies), rather than seeking a literal match. We remind ourselves that Jung did not actually make a pact with the devil and that Johnson did not become a monk, but these images symbolize their respective myths.
Jean Shinoda Bolen has written two books that, while not directly addressing the personal myth, can serve as inspiration for a symbolic understanding of mythological figures in relation to one's own personality: Goddesses in Every Woman and Gods in Everyman. However, many Jungian analysts have written about Greek gods as archetypal patterns within us. Murray Stein’s collected volume Myth and Psychology is just one example. Karl Kerenyi and Mircea Eliade are two influential scholars of religious history who can be recommended, particularly as each of them collaborated with Jung in different ways.
Finally, Craig Chalquist argues that one is born with a typology that supports one’s myth (or vice versa). (See Psychological Types, CW 6, or the much more accessible Personality Types by Daryl Sharp for more information on Jungian typology.) Understanding one’s own typology can, in other words, be essential for aligning with one’s personal myth—especially if it has been buried under layers of adaptation to external expectations. Robert A. Johnson states ("The Personal Myth," YouTube):
"One of the manifestations of one’s own personal myth – and my goodness, it is important to know one’s myth – is the typology of which one carries; everybody is born with a particular typology."
For him, myth and typology are so intimately connected that, after this introduction, he only speaks about typology—as if it were synonymous with the personal myth. He identifies himself as an introverted feeling type and explains that realizing and honoring this was immensely important for him. Since his temperament was not reflected in his culture, one can imagine that he tried to mirror it instead—that is, he constructed a false self as closely aligned as possible with the culture, but in conflict with his true personality, his typology, and his own myth. This is likely what he refers to when he emphasizes the importance of understanding one’s myth—how crucial it was for him personally to honor his typology and live in accordance with his inner drives.
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