Friday, April 27, 2012

Streams of Consciousness

Here's my final paper:


Introduction
Though revered for its longevity and ability to reach across continents, the genre of romance literature is generally thought of as mere entertainment by a fairly large cross section of society.  It certainly doesn’t warrant close study.  It doesn’t reflect reality.  Therefore, what’s the use of these stories?  Why get a degree in reading and writing at all?  Why waste my time reading stories written thousands of years ago and then writing papers that try to make sense of it all?  “I hear data management is where the money is,” I was told recently by a family member, “maybe you should take some classes in that.” 
I believe literature provides us with a focused lens through which we can view valuable lessons, such as the concept of individuation.  Within the common elements of romance literature are the ingredients by which we realize our individual personalities. Throughout the collections of ancient tales, such as Daphnis and Chloe, and Lucius and the Ass, all the way up to and beyond Haroun and the Sea of Stories, elements of the story such as the quest, apparent death and revelation all lead to the hero and/or heroine realizing what is referred to in analytical psychology as "the self."
            According to Jung, the process of individuation is an important component of personal fulfillment.   He and other psychologists describe the process in terms of a holistic healing, with the end result being the maturation of the individual.  Individuation is the process of personal transformation in which the unconscious becomes part of the conscious self.  It is comprised of three components:  the shadow, the senex and the anima or animas.  In many of the romance tales we studied this semester, the main characters confront these elements on their way to a better understanding not only of themselves, but each other, and their psychological and physical environment.  And by reading and studying these stories, we can gain a better understanding not only of literature, but of our own selves.
Individuation in Literature
            Long before Carl Jung and his colleagues presented the world with a framework for the concept of individuation, storytellers and authors were creating characters that exemplified this transformational process.  Within these stories the hero and heroine, despite being fictionalized, can appear almost real in our imaginations.  We empathize with them.  We laugh at what they say and do. We cry tears of joy when they are reunited with their long-lost love.
But what is it about these characters and their journeys that draw us in to them?  What makes us forget, however briefly, that they aren't real?  What causes us to draw parallels between our lives and theirs?  Jung might say it's the need for all of us to become whole beings, that we're all on our own paths toward individuation and because fiction, however implausible it may seem to some, is a textbook for what it is to be human.  It helps us get closer to our goal of realizing our true selves.
In essence, individuation answers the question, "what's the use of stories that aren't even true?"  In order to realize our identities we must understand that the world we inhabit is much greater than what simply happens in our own lives.  We build walls around us, insulating ourselves from the people who walk by us on the streets and those living on the opposite side of the planet.  Stories tear down those walls and open us to the experiences of others.  Our lives are so short (and generally so dull) that we can hardly expect to encounter the number and scope of crises that our fictional friends experience in their lives. Stories open our minds to the world of the descent, of forbidden love, of death and destruction.  They remind us of our humanity and, ultimately, of our fragility.
On the surface, they are just that - stories, fabrications, lies.  But within the world of literary criticism we can take the time to look beyond the story, to read between the lines, to find the truth within.  Frye emphasizes that not only is the story important, but “what is being said about the society that the story is 'reflecting'” (45) is important.  These stories are a looking glass, a window into our souls.  Frye also says that “man remains a Narcissus staring at his own reflection, equally unable to surpass himself,” (61) but the question is “what part of your reflection do you stare at?”  Do you look only at the image of yourself?  Or do you look also at the world surrounding you, the backdrop of your reflection, and do you see that world behind you also as a part of you?  “Reality, we remember, is otherness, the sense of something not ourselves” (60).  Romance teaches us this, while at the same time providing us with some much-needed entertainment.  That is the point of stories, after all – to educate and to entertain us.  The greatest works of literature can do both equally well. 
The King and the Corpse, as told by Heinrich Zimmer, is a short tale in which the hero, a king, is presented with a series of difficult riddles.  If he fails to solve them, he will die.  If he succeeds, he will be rewarded with much more than the promise of being a hero.  This story is a perfect example of a character who is presented with a path toward individuation.  An examination of this path, as well as the elements that comprise the process of individuation follows.
The Shadow
            Jung describes the “shadow” as turning one’s inferiority into a perceived deficiency in someone else.  This important step in the process of individuation allows the person to see their darker side as a part of their persona.  In The King and The Corpse, the King’s shadow is personified in the sorcerer.  “In the kingly person there can lie concealed a secret unkingliness,” (Zimmer, 212).  In this case, that unkingly figure arrives with the promise of adventure, magic and riches.  The sorcerer is symbolic of the King’s ego.  Despite recognizing the danger that the sorcerer represents, however, the King chooses to meet him at the burial grounds.  The sorcerer represents the King’s inferiorities, which the King has chosen to confront.  This is the first step in the individuation process:  accepting your darker side and bringing it under your conscious control.  The King faces the challenge and, therefore, owns up to his dark side.
The Senex
            The Senex is represented in a character that shows wisdom and sound judgment or, as we see in the character of the Corpse, an all-knowing, otherworldly being that brings the King face to face with the part of his ego that is the “dead weight from the past” (223).  The Corpse is a manifestation of the King’s ego that “dwells behind, beyond, within the kingly ‘I’ that we consciously consider ourselves to be” (223).  The Senex character leads the King on his path toward individuation, but he does not reveal the answers.  “The king’s problem,” says Frye, and the true answer to the riddles the Corpse poses to him, “is to become truly and entirely himself” (225).  By integrating the senex into both the conscious and unconscious, both the knowing and unknown, the King is able to find the answer, which is that he does not know the answer.  Overcoming his ego’s desire to know everything, as a king might think he should, allows him to discover what it is he is truly looking for:  his Self.
Anima
            Anima describes the feminine qualities of the male unconscious.  According to Jung, this oftentimes manifests itself in the dreams of a male.  The scene of the burial ground could certainly be considered a dreamlike sequence of events.  And the King comes to terms with his feminine side when he is forced to serve the whims of the Corpse.  He becomes submissive, which is more typical of a feminine character, and very rarely one of a king in folk tales.  This king finds himself carrying the corpse on his shoulders over and over again until the Corpse gets what it wants:  the King’s silence.  Zimmer says, “it is because we have finally submitted to its whim and will that it can save us” (229).  It is not until the king becomes the subject that he can become a truly “potent” king.
            In this stage of individuation, we see the Corpse symbolizing the coming together of the King’s conscious and unconscious.  It is only when we allow this to happen that we are able to realize who we are and where we are going.  This final stage, the realizing of the Self, brings us to a greater understanding not only of ourselves, but of everything around us.  We finally understand that our power comes not only from ourselves, but from everything else that inhabits our world.  Good comes from within us, but evil also lives in each of our minds.  “In the end, the ghost…proves to be the savior” and it turns out to be “the only one in the whole world, the only guide in the darkness of the night of our being, who can save us from the magic circle of our own self-created evil” (229). 
Conclusion
Individuation can only occur when we have integrated the unconscious into the conscious, when the two become one.  In that way, individuation is very much like the coming together of two lovers.  This is the very essence of the romantic tales we have studied this semester.  “The improbable, desiring, erotic, and violent world of romance reminds us that we are not awake when we have abolished the dream world:  we are awake only when we have absorbed it again” (Frye, 61).  Love can be very much like a dream.  And so we must remember to absorb it like we do our favorite books. 
Frye says, “one of the things that the study of literature should do is to help the student become aware of his own mythological conditioning, especially on the more passive and critically unexamined levels” (167).  When I first read this, I understood it only in one sense, which is that we should be aware of how we have come to be indoctrinated with the cliché mythology.  But now I understand it as something more.  I believe that Frye is trying to tell us that we need to be aware of the myths that we have built around ourselves:  those stories that our egos tell us that are, at best, only half-truths.  Until we can recognize this dangerous mythology which we suppose to be our reality, it is our lives that will remain a cliché.  We will be the indoctrinated unless we can de-program ourselves.  And we can only do that by learning to look beyond our own Self and realize that we are part of a greater mythology – one that involves love for others, art, music, nature, and of course, literature.  The ability to tell stories is one of the defining qualities of what it is to be human.  I would go so far as to say it is our defining characteristic.  And because of this, we also have the ability to know who we truly are.  By reaching into the great Ocean of Stories, we can cleanse ourselves of the need to be in control and give ourselves to the story and maybe, if we pay close enough attention, or simply by letting go for one moment, we can find the value and wisdom that is inside each of us.



WORKS CITED
Frye, Northrop.  The Secular Scripture.  Cambridge:  Harvard University Press, 1976.  Print.
Zimmer, Heinrich.  The King and the Corpse.  Princeton:  Princeton University Press, 1975.  Print.

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