In Jungian psychology, it is held that when a
person has an accumulation of 'unlived life',
this can give rise to a great deal of
suffering during the later stages of
adulthood. I would say the primary reason why
so much life remains unlived is that we are
often unable or unwilling to cross the
threshold of fear that presents itself
whenever we are required to take a leap
towards our own unfulfilled destiny. It is
what Joseph Campbell termed 'the refusal of
the call to adventure', and when the call has
been refused, it leaves a residue of
emptiness, nostalgia or regret in the heart.
An authentic life that has been fully lived
leaves a different kind of imprint on the
psyche, and on the body also. A certain kind
of presence develops that is palpable, and it
evokes a degree of respect, admiration or
even reverence when people encounter it. You
feel refreshed and inspired from being around
such a person, without necessarily knowing
what it is on a conscious level that makes
them so attractive.
In a culture that craves the 'quick fix' and
worships celebrities for no other reason than
their public image, it is especially valuable
to have at least one or two people in your
life who embody something more substantial.
My friend Beth Tyers, who passed away in
December, was such a person in my life, and
in the lives of many others. Beth had
considerable skill as a practitioner, but it
was the quality of her presence that touched
those of us who knew her more than anything
else. Many people took remedies and essences
that Beth prescribed for them, but quite a
few came to realize that it was mostly her
own essence that conveyed the healing energy,
and this is something that takes considerable
effort to achieve.
To live a full and authentic life does not
mean avoiding pain, or having a life that is
free of struggle or difficulty. Indeed, it is
often the fear of pain and the endless
pursuit of happiness that creates a
one-sidedness and a longing for something
richer. What brings depth, wisdom and
strength of character is when a person
accepts and embraces the struggles and
traumas of their life, and manages to
transmute them into something finer. Through
a kind of spiritual alchemy, the sadness and
loss that once encrusted the heart becomes
the healing agent that opens it, just as the
fear that once brought isolation and
separation can, when transmuted, bring forth
the courage to relate and to connect with
ever-deepening intimacy.
Beth was such a treasure in my life precisely
because she was able to be both serious and
irreverent, gentle and firm, courageous and
fearful. We shared tears and laughter in more
or less equal measure and this, to me, is
what a full human life consists of. The
beauty of it is that every single one of us
already has within us the unique blend of
ingredients we need to bring us to wholeness,
but it is left for us to make full use of
what we've been given. And, crucially, we
must be willing to embrace the shadow side of
ourselves, so that nothing is excluded or denied.
According to Jung, and he was drawing
directly from the alchemic tradition, the
gold is to be found in the dark places which,
psychologically speaking means the wounded
places, the hurt places, the scary places we
would rather stay away from. Of course, being
wounded by life brings no guarantee in itself
that inner strengths will develop. They may
or may not, and that largely depends on the
attitude we hold.
Once you open to the possibility that these
wounds contain the seeds of the vast
potentialities within you, then the journey
to healing and wholeness has begun. It may
still be a long and at times difficult path
to tread, but you know in your heart that
there is no turning back. And it is
reassuring to remember that those, like Beth,
who inspired you through their example of a
life well-lived, did so because they too
passed along the same route, each in their
own way.
