Chicken Soup for the Mind…

Italian Penicillin Soup

I dreamed of former teachers last night. Some good. Some bad. But, even with the so called bad ones, the learning happens if one is open or reflective. Sometimes that learning is immediate, sometimes it takes decades. In my dreaming, the teachers presented themselves to me in current time and I was trying to be hospitable to each. Offering a meal. Offering a bed. Offering a handshake. Perhaps this is a sign of reconciliation with the Teacher within? This dream comes at a perfect time as I launch into my busy season of teaching. My Dream Exploration and Fairytale Seminar begin today. On the horizon, presentations in Jungian communities on the Macabre, DreamStory, Alchemy, and the Uncanny. My head is full of cold so to think I can accomplish all that lies before me seems a bit daunting. I guess the dream of receiving my past teachers is psyche’s way of reminding me that the archetype of teacher supports me, even if my sensibilities are strained with congestion? I hope so. And maybe, like the dreams of Labour Day when I was a classroom teacher, maybe this is just an anxiety dream.

I was a high school teacher before I became a Jungian analyst. The perfect balance for me is to sit in the chair and work with people individually as a psychoanalyst and to augment this with seminars and presentations to larger groups of people. To be both teacher and analyst. In both roles I think I learn as much as I offer. I think that ultimately that is what makes a good teacher, one who is open to learn. When my dream hosted some of the not so good teachers of my biography, the theme that unites this group was the arrogance that they knew it all. The sage on the stage is not a model that works for most. At least not over time. Surely a teacher must start with their knowledge and expertise, but even this has its limits and a true teacher recognizes this and lifts his or her students to open new ground. When a teacher can’t surrender to his or her students, when a parent can’t surrender to his or her children, when the past can’t surrender to the future, learning stops. The perfect balance we seek is between wisdom and emergence. In the current culture wars, I think we have forgotten this. The future wants to demolish the past and the past wants to control the future. This is a dead end.

I know a thing or two. I have studied and continue to study hard. I try to share what I have learned in my writing, in my teaching, and in my psychotherapy praxis. But, on most days, I am open to learning. This is the most exciting and vivifying part of my work. To see into the human heart in all its multiplicity is a gift beyond compare. I often tell my students, my analysands, my readers, there are many paths to the castle. Whether we are exploring a fairytale, a dream, or a life experience, the patterns that are universal are at the same time unique. This is the great paradox. It is not a contradiction.

With this lingering head cold, the past weekend was spent doing little. I managed to do my laundry, I made a pot of Italian Penicillin soup, napped often, and watched youtube videos of courses I am enrolled in. I was a passive student for the most part. Too full of congestion to read or amplify what I was learning. I did nothing but receive. I think back to my classroom and recall some of my students who seemed at times as passive or as brain dead as I felt yesterday. However, my dreaming implies that the teachers got in. My psyche received the learning on some level, perhaps deeper than my conscious mind. How fitting.

The fairytale I will offer to my students today is Grimms, The Twelve Dancing Princesses. It is a delightful tale about how the work goes on deep in the unconscious even while consciousness slumbers. This is a point worth emphasizing. One of my teachers yesterday, Dr. Martin Shaw, spoke about how if we look too long at the monster, we risk becoming the monster. He is clearly echoing his own teacher, Nietzsche, "if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you." Surely we must be bold and brave and heroic. We must stay informed and know what rough beast crouches toward Bethlehem to be born. And, at the same time, we must practice psyche hygiene. Too much time on social media or parked passively in front of so called news broadcasts can let in pathogens that overwhelm our health and vitality. Re-posting memes that on the surface appear to be ironic, funny, or sardonic, feed the beast and pass along the pathogens. There is more to fear than a new strain of Covid. The biological and psychological immune system is an amazing mechanism, but even it can become overwhelmed.

I will recover from my cold. The chicken soup is helping and the napping is the mandate of recovery my body needs. And while I recover, while I passively consume teachings, I will at the same time, endeavour to be selective. I will receive the learning in the manner of the Gothic cathedrals. The Gothic cathedral is a wonderful structure. Vivid in my sensibilities having just returned from a trip to Italy, I utilize its design as I bow before my teachers, before my learning. The narthex of my mind will meet the strange and offer an orientation toward unity. The nave will gather all I am learning and direct my attention toward a goal. The sanctuary or the altar will enact the ancient rituals of sanctification and transubstantiation. The communion will be what is shared. Whether in my chair, my virtual classroom, or in my blog, once a teacher, always a teacher. Once a learner, always a learner.