POSTED January, 2012
Apple Farm Community - Christmas talk 2011, Don Raiche
Shepherds, why this jubilee?
Why these songs of happy cheer?
What great brightness did you see?
What glad tidings did you hear?
The Christmas carol we cite comes out of our principle religious tradition, out of the archetypal matrix that Jung felt constituted the best spiritual tradition with historical roots in the Western world. Whatever may have become one-sided and narrow in that tradition (and wounding many a contemporary person), there are still values and great images that speak to our present situation.
Helen Luke herself spoke eloquently of this in a letter to a friend.
It seems to me that Jung’s great gift to Christianity is his re—interpretation in a new and modern language of the truths of dogma, and his insistence on the specific need for individuals in our day to recognise the symbols which you describe as being ‘given’ to each one in his own imagery, and which link us to the great traditional symbols, so that they are reborn within.
Letter to Sr. Therese 12-28-75
In their response to the news of the birth of the Christ Child, the shepherds offer us a way to respond to the birth of new life through the Self, the psychological center of the psyche. This is cause for jubilee – for them, for us!
Jubilee – to raise a shout of joy. Each day the glory of the Self is revealed anew in its revitalizing and restorative functions. The shepherds don’t wait to be jubilant; their response is rapid as they hurry to bear witness to this flash of glory. How much can we let go to be available to jubilee? Walter Kerr, a New York drama critic wrote of how our modern impulse is to see everything in terms of the useful.
We are all of us compelled to read for profit, party for contacts, lunch for contracts, bowl for unity, drive for mileage, gamble for charity, go out for the evening for the greater glory of the municipality, and stay home for the weekend to rebuild the house. Minutes, hours, and days have been spared us. The prospect of filling them with the pleasures for which they were spared us has somehow come to seem meaningless, meaningless enough to drive some of us to drink and some of us to doctors and all of us to the satisfactions of an insatiate industry.
Walter Kerr, The Decline of Pleasure, p. 31
If we can’t take simple pleasure in things for their own sakes, our souls are surely not in training for the ecstatic pleasures that the great spiritual masters assure us are available. The shepherds of our carol don’t sit on their hands. They notice what is happening and respond to something that is beyond immediate utilitarian benefit.
They, of course, had the angels to stir their awareness. We too have our own angels – that part of ourselves that recognizes the deepest things and responds out of that place. Ann Ulanov writes that this place is the Self, that capacity in our psyches that knows about God.
The kind of addiction to usefulness that Kerr talks about has deep roots in us. When Nietzsche declared God is dead he predicted what would happen to spiritual life over the following centuries. For millions of us anything transpersonal, transcendent, or numinous has died. It is not only that religious institutions are diminished but also diminished are beauty, nature, music, poetry, ways in which the soul had been nourished through the centuries. These have lost their power to enthrall, enliven and lift our spirits.
Jungian psychology affirms the mysterium tremendum and the possibility of human wholeness through relationship to it. Even those who embrace the Jungian healing message and process do so against the poisonous atmosphere of a collective that says the transpersonal, be it religion, the arts, or personal relationships, is not of abiding value but is mere ephemeral emotional experience. These experiences don’t carry enduring value and human wholeness is mistakenly seen as the achievement of personal ego goals of success in one form or another. The very idea of wholeness loses its vibrancy, its thrilling and ecstatic nature – its satisfying as well as energizing power – in short, its glory.
But we take heart in words of Thomas Merton:
… no despair of ours can alter the reality of things, or stain the joy of the cosmic dance which is always there. Indeed, we are in the midst of it, and it is in the midst of us, for it beats in our very blood, whether we want it to or not. Yet the fact remains that we are invited to forget ourselves on purpose, cast our awful solemnity to the winds and join in the general dance.
page, 256 Thomas Merton: Spiritual Master
Jung regarded the religious impulse as the deepest of all instincts. And with the shepherds we see it operating in a direct fashion. But what is the religious instinct like? It certainly involves a intense desire to be in a correct relation to the mysterium tremendum. While some part of the religious impulse may include a desire that the transcendent forces are beneficent toward us mortals, it isn't the essential thing.
Even more powerful than the desire for the good things of life that are mediated by the transpersonal forces is the powerful human longing to adore something. We want an object large enough to receive our passionate longing to give fully of ourselves to an “other” – to pour our hearts out in a rapture of longing for, and praise of, the “altogether lovely.”
In the Western religious tradition this relationship of adoration is often described in terms of “glory.” Countless passages in the scriptures speak of the glory that characterizes the divinity as well as the glory that is a crucial part of the relationship between humans and that divinity.
Part of the meaning of glory is relationship. On the transpersonal side glory is majestic beauty and splendor which are mediated to the receptive psyche. The psyche reciprocates by offering honor , adoration, and praise to the transcendent forces manifesting through dream, sacred texts, poetry, ritual, nature, and personal relationships.
The task isn’t easy for us. We stand against the collective, first of all in our selves, to assert that the mysterium tremendum exists and that enthralling and energizing glory prevails in the universe. We also have to acknowledge that we have the capacity, are large enough, to receive it . We need to recognize that we do not exist only to be “useful” but are called to the wonders of glory.
The shepherds are called to a new dimension of love – something vastly different from what existed in the classical world where relationships were defined in terms of status and domination. While we may be far from fully realizing the message to love our neighbors as ourselves, that possibility entered the world more fully than ever before with the birth the shepherds greet with jubilee.
LOOK UP! - Christmas Talk by Joan Miller
The Christmas story has two sets of characters that we might call star watchers. The shepherds are professional sheep tenders who happen to sit nightly under the stars. The magi are professional astrologers/astronomers who happen to follow the stars. Each is in a position to notice when something unusual happens in the sky.
It was likely an ordinary night in field. The shepherds were practiced at watching sheep. The practice of anything prepares us for a moment that cannot be prepared for. The shepherds in the field were going about their ordinary lives in an ordinary way when the extraordinary happened. But they had to look up from the sheep to see it.
Here at the Farm with its roots in depth psychology, contemplation and living the symbolic life, we might say to one another in various ways that practicing "daily life" is the field of opportunity. There is glory everywhere. All we have to do is see or perhaps LOOK. "Our looking ripens things and they come toward us to meet and be met." (Rilke) Each of us bears witness to the looking in our own individual way as we become more and more conscious. In the freedom of the conscious life the numinous shines forth and takes form. We might ask, "do I leave enough space daily for it to erupt?" And then, do I notice when it does?
No matter how much inner work we do or how many hours we spend in silence or active imagination, we can't practice enough to know when the next revelation will come. Still, practice trains the mind to be an open field. It prepares us for living ordinary life which just might, on some dark night, show us a sky filled with angels.
The shepherds are practical star gazers; they notice what the stars offer while going about their sheep job; the magi are academic star gazers; they follow the patterns to figure something out. Both experience revelation or what James Joyce calls the WHATNESS of a thing---when the soul of something quite common seems suddenly radiant. In his Christmas Oratorio For the Time Being, W. H. Auden observes the contrast between them. As followers of the star, the magi are on a long quest leading to a destination. They say, "O here and now our endless journey stops." The shepherds never left home but their routine is interrupted thoroughly by music and light. They say, "O here and now our endless journey starts."
POSTED Februrary, 2011
This is the season of light; of bright
lights in
trees, in windows and yards. The lights that celebrate the coming of
the light of the world shine everywhere. The light also proclaims that
much that was hidden will soon be revealed.
Still we are constantly reminded of the
dark. “Because
of a dream Joseph got up by night, took the child and his mother and
went to Egypt.” (Mt. 2:14)
Some of the oldest iconography of the
Christmas story
suggests a similar valuation of the dark. There are hundreds of icons
depicting the Christ child being born in a cave.. The womb-like cave
suggests that the divine life has two mothers; Mary the virgin and the
earth itself. (see The Encyclopedia of Archetypal Symbolism, Vol. 1, p.
245 )
Jungian psychology advocates for the dark
and for what
is born from it and nurtured by it. There are precious things
to be kept in the dark, hidden and secret.
This is true of our inner and emotional
lives. Love
naturally has secrets. Unless we are pornographers of flesh
or spirit, our deepest intimacies are not proclaimed or practiced in
the open market. Rather they are protected and nourished in
the dark.
Earthly love might appear in a dream in
images of
marriage or weddings. Jung asserted that such images of “the
conjunction” also foretell wholeness. Such conjunctio dreams and images
often arise in later life as the mature psyche approaches the
possibility of full individuation, whether in this life or another. We
are not being called to a love of another human being (although that
may be part of it). What we are being called to is the experience of
the love that Dante described as “the love that
moves the sun and the other stars.”
Jung in Mysterium Conjunctionis
describes the goal of individuation in these words:
It is the state of someone who, in his
wanderings
among … his psychic transformations, comes upon a secret happiness
which reconciles him to his apparent loneliness. In communing
with himself he finds not deadly boredom and melancholy but an inner
partner; more than that, a relationship that seems like the happiness
of a secret love, or like a hidden springtime, when the green seed
sprouts from the barren earth, holding out the promise of future
harvest.
Jung, Mysterium coniunctionis,
par. 623
So our completeness, at any age, but
perhaps most
powerfully in the second half of life, is a love story in which we can
live day by day with the “happiness of a secret love.” This
is not a mystical marriage abstracted from the earth. No, our wholeness
includes that earthly place where “ green seed sprouts from the barren
earth, holding out the promise of future harvest.”
How do we incorporate, this secret love
into our daily
lives? T. S. Eliot tells us in poetry of how the numinous may come to
us through
…. the winter lightning
Or the waterfall, or music heard so deeply
That it is not heard at all, but you are the music
While the music lasts. These are only hints and guesses,
Hints followed by guesses ; and the rest
Is prayer, observance, discipline, thought and action
The hint half guessed, the gift half understood, is
Incarnation.
T. S. Eliot, The Four Quartets, The
Dry Salvages, ll. 200-217
Thus this secret love is brought into daily
life by
the kind of things many of us have long practiced: journaling,
meditation, active imagination, and attention to images as well as
ethical enactment prompted by the insights we’ve gleaned.
Dreams and their images are not concocted by us but come from the
transpersonal world. They arrive through our trust in what comes from
the unconscious even when it appears to be dark and scary.
Helen Luke advocated for great care to
protect the
privacy of our inner life, counseling that we share our dreams only
with carefully chosen persons. This sounds contrary to a contemporary
emphasis on openness, transparency and a collective belief that secrets
are always damaging to personal relationships. We forget that our
dreams not only provide compensation to our conscious point of view but
they also convey energy - energy that is available for the dreamer’s
transformation and preparation for the royal wedding of the
conjunctio. By holding our dreams close, we have a better
chance of integrating the energy that is available for our conversion.
Certainly the fruits of our inner work will have a profound effect upon
ourselves and all others with whom we come in contact.
As the hidden cave and the darkness of the
night
protected the Christ child so our hidden nourishing of images protects
our inner journey toward that “happiness of a secret love.” This allows
us to participate even more radically in our own transformation and
that of the world in a way analogous to the great changes made by the
Christ child and his messages that “the kingdom of God is within” and
that we are called to a life of love.
I close with two complementary visions of
the world.
First St. Paul’s great words on love in 1st Corinthians; “love is
patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or
rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or
resentful.” The second is a less familiar passage which also speaks of
the transforming power of love. It comes from the last year or so of
Jung’s life and echoes T. S. Eliot’s beautiful lines on hints and
guesses.
“We have simply got to listen to what the
psyche
spontaneously says to us. What the dream, which is not manufactured by
us, says is just so …It is the great dream which
has always spoken through the artist as a mouthpiece. All his love and
passion (his values) flow toward the coming guest to proclaim his
arrival… What is the great Dream? It consists of the many small dreams
and the many acts of humility and submission to their hints. It is the
future and the picture of the new world, which we do not understand
yet. We cannot know better than the unconscious and its intimations. There
is a fair chance of finding what we seek
in vain in our conscious world.
From a1960 letter Jung wrote to Sir Herbert Read cited in Russell
Lockhart’s book Psyche Speaks, p. 35
So tonight we offer toasts to celebrate the
birth of a
child who changed the world and we are given a glorious reminder that
we are on the way to a royal wedding where we are the ones who are
going to be married.
Let us lift our glasses to honor the child
who makes
this possible and to Apple Farm for all it has done to prepare us for
the excess of joy that is always opening before us.
Irony
and Innocence: by Don Raiche
Apple
Farm Community Christmas 2009
he
Christian
story begins with an innocent child in a wooden manger and culminates
in that same child, as an adult, disgracefully murdered on a wooden
cross, the innocent victim of trumped up charges. Carl Jung
suggests that the Western psyche is profoundly Christian. The archetype
of the innocent child provides endless possibility for transformation.
The innocent one is the source of life and full of possibilities for metanoia.
Through the ages this haunts and threatens the representatives of
collective power.
2
And
Jesus called a little child unto him, and set
him in the midst of them, 3 And said, Verily I say
unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye
shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Matthew
18
Christ’s words suggest that innocence
is as possible in the old as in the young. We find in the
child image many paradoxes including the idea that true maturity, one
of religious depth and psychological health, depends on maintaining a
very real link to the image of the child.
Allen Chinen speaks of
the elderly as being capable of what he calls conscious or
“emancipated” innocence.
Such innocence connotes vigor
and immediacy. The child questions without false modesty or a
need to impress; may be timid but rarely full of
suspicion. Tears come readily without filters as to propriety
or usefulness. The child goes directly to what it wants - a
comforting parent, a sweet, or a mud puddle.
At
archetypal levels the meaning carries even greater spiritual and
psychological weight. “The archetype of the child
has to do with the wonder of all beginnings and the wonder of beginning
again. We are led by it to imagine being in the world as on the first
day of creation, seeing the world for the first time. The child
embodies and encourages spontaneity and joy, imagination and
celebration.”
Herod and Pilate, steeped in Roman values of collective power, success,
wealth and security, are threatened by the innocent one. What is it
that is so antagonistic between their worlds and his? Unlike Christ,
they each inhabit a fortress mentality -- lives dominated by fear,
riddled by suspicion and calling for constant vigilance. The novelist
E. M Forster calls this kind of life, the “tragedy of preparedness,” in
which we “nerve ourselves for a crisis that never comes,” wasting
energy by assuming “that preparation against danger is in itself a
good, and [we ] are the better for staggering through life fully armed.” No wonder the
Christ child
worries Harold’s sleep. The values this child articulates are
completely antithetical to the very fabric of his world.
Unfortunately Herod persists in the human psyche. How often, in our
quite ordinary lives, do we slaughter the innocents of creativity and
wonder? We turn our suspicion and hostility against the awkward first
steps of the creative child within ourselves and also kill off the
possibility of extending trust to others and thus fostering peace on
earth and peace within our own psyche. If we bridle at the thought of
ourselves as Herod, we might squirm yet harder when we realize that we
may be far more like Pilate than Herod. At the other end of Christ’s
life stands this figure who rejects the innocent Christ out of
expediency and to uphold the public good. Like so many contemporary
people, not only politicians, he views spiritual values with irony and
skepticism. He is not terrified as is Herod, but despises the folly of
the “unworldly” including the folly of the childlike love that “moves
the sun and other stars.”(Dante)
Matisse writes, “in order to look at things with an undistorted view,
you have to have the courage of a child. If you lose that faculty you
cannot express yourself in an original way which is your own personal
way.” With
such courage and trust we find that we have nothing to lose and no real
need to protect ourselves as we become truly ourselves – free human
beings breathing free air. Childlike forgetfulness of self in the
wonder of play and the wonder of “the other” are captured in an Eastern
Orthodox story. “A saint said to a child, ‘Look here, if you were able
to play with the Lord, it would be the greatest thing anyone could ever
do. All the world takes him so seriously that it has become horribly
boring. Play with God, my child. He is the best playmate.’”
The values constellated by the child archetype mean costly changes in
the fundamental ways we view things. It’s as if the molecules that
constitute our spiritual and mental makeup are transformed. The
so-called practical worlds of Herod and Pilate emphasize usefulness,
demand rational planning, cost benefit analyses, and clear objectives
for the activities they value. The world of emancipated innocence sees
freedom from convention, abandonment to the dance, cultivated
inefficiency, and idle rumination as essential components of the
spiritual life. All the spiritual masters, including Jung, are
insistent that our best time and energy (not our spare time and energy)
be allotted to contemplation rather than ratiocination. Contemplation
is sometimes described as “simple gazing” with radical openness to
transcendent realities; so that suspending our logical and linear
thought processes are often necessary.
The 17th century poet Thomas Traherne never lost
a sense of the innocence of childhood and wrote many poems and epigrams
expressing the exhilarating world of that perspective.
Those
pure and
virgin apprehensions I had from the womb, and that divine light
wherewith I was born, are the best unto this day wherein I can see the
universe. By the gift of God they attended me into the world, and by
his special favour I remember them till now. Verily they seem the
greatest gifts his wisdom could bestow, for without them, al1 other
gifts had been dead and vain. Certainly Adam in paradise had not more
sweet and curious apprehensions of the world than I when I was a child.
[3]
Thus we see the world again from the inside of the regained vision that
belongs to conscious innocence. It is, of course, not enough for us to
simply decide for the childhood world with an act of the will. We have
to go through a long process of putting aside childish things such as
resentment at parents, wanting to be at the center of other person’s
lives, as well as wanting the more obvious Roman glories of success,
wealth and security. We may also have to deal realistically with
persistent neuroses and obsessions.
It can be a long journey from the naïve, natural childlike innocence of
chronological childhood to the mature, realized emancipated innocence
but the way to that which is our true home takes work and time, until
as T. S. Eliot says:
And
the end
of all our exploring
Will
be to
arrive where we started
And
know the
place for the first time.
POSTED
April, 2009
APPLE FARM COMMUNITY EASTER MESSAGE 2009
by Don Raiche
Today we’re celebrating a feast that I don’t think is easy for a lot of
contemporary people. I suppose because so many of us are functional
atheists – we don’t really believe in the invisible world or the
possibility of radical change within our own lives. We don’t believe it
at a social, political or personal psychological level.
We don’t believe in resurrection from physical or
emotional pain. This is particularly true if we are ill or suffering
some of the pangs of old age. We hear it all the time; “after 60 it’s
downhill all the way;” “I’m
falling apart;” “old age is only decrepitude and then the nursing home
and then you die.”
Of course, these aren’t simply the whines of aging but fundamentally
immature folks. These complaints are ancient and real and occur in
hymns and even psalms:
DEATH, like an overflowing stream,
Sweeps us away; our life's a dream, An empty tale, a morning flow'r,
Cut down and wither'd in an hour. -Early American hymn
Psalm 71 sings
9Cast me
not off in the time of old age; forsake me not when my strength faileth.
18Now also when I am old and greyheaded,
O God, forsake me not;
The psalm isn’t only plaintive, however.
It continues:
20Thou, which hast shewed me great
and sore troubles, shalt quicken me again, and shalt bring me up again
from the depths of the earth.
Today’s feast
challenges all that. It says that resurrection occurs through and out
of death and pain – even the most extreme. Our problem often is not
recognizing the level at which resurrection is possible. St. Paul says: 16For
which
cause we faint not; but though our outward man perish, yet the inward
man is renewed day by day.
17For
our light affliction, which is but
for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of
glory;
18While we look not at the things which
are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which
are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal. 2 Corinthians
4:16-18
I don’t think we have to even believe in an afterlife to recognize that
“renewal” – outer and inner is possible at any age. I’ve come upon one
striking example recently and that is the poet W. B. Yeats. In his late 60’s, Yeats
was feeling keenly a total impotency – it was physical and
psychological and for him, perhaps most devastatingly it meant what
felt like the death of all his poetic skills. He struggled to access
again the vitality of his early poetic powers where images came rapidly
and vividly. It didn’t work but something else did. He struggled
through to a new kind of poetry. He describes where he had to go to
find the new powers – the new life, his resurrected life in a poem
named The Circus
Animals' Desertion. I’ll
just read the first few lines that describe how hard it was to write at
all; the old images and powers, what he sarcastically calls “my circus
animals” were once available, “on show” but now have deserted him.
I sought a theme and sought for it
in vain,
I sought it daily for six weeks or so.
Maybe at last, being but a broken man,
I must be satisfied with my heart, although
Winter and summer till old age began
My circus animals were all on show,
Those stilted boys, that burnished chariot,
Lion and woman and the Lord knows what.
In the rest of the poem he traces his career in poetry and the losses
he experiences but then at the end he describes a new realization of
where he must go for this poetry. It involves a kind of death but also
ushers in new life and creative vitality.
Now that my ladder's
gone,
I must lie down where all the ladders start
In the foul rag and bone shop of the heart.
Yeats searched
the innermost reaches of his heart and soul and, out of a new
simplicity and acceptance of the loss of the kind of powers he’d once
had, a new period of great productivity emerged and he wrote the
greatest poems he had ever accomplished. His “inward man” was “renewed
day by day.” And his poetry carried the “weight of glory.”
One of
the most startling things Christ said about his crucifixion was “I have
a baptism to undergo and how I long for it to be accomplished.” Luke
12:50
It is pretty hard to see emotional pain, or the anxieties and losses of
old age, as baptisms but it seems that is the pattern for renewal. The renewal may not produce any
outer artifact, like poetry. It may be the discovery of a love of God,
the excitement of realizing that one is emotionally alive even if
older, that one is in love, perhaps without lust, for the first time in
one's life, etc. Helen
Luke said it very clearly in Dark Wood to
White Rose, describing Dante’s
story of descent into hell and journey to paradise as a comedy.
Why
did Dante call his great story of the inner journey a comedy—… The Comedy? … as opposed to tragedy,
it means a work that has a happy ending. In a great comedy we are
always made aware of the darkness in life, but the ending must be happy
or it is not a comedy. A man's journey to wholeness is therefore most
rightly named The Comedy, for
the end is the final awareness of that love which is the joy of the
universe. … and the man who finally refuses validity to the "happy
ending" is outside the human community and has chosen to live in the
monotony and meaninglessness of Hell.
In
the interior world there can be no conscious life, no true awareness
whatever without a continual dying—without repeated deaths of old
attitudes, of superficial desires, and finally of every claim of the
ego to dominance. The fact is that life after death, or rather life out
of death, is the truth of
the universe, natural as well as psychological and spiritual, outwardly
as well as inwardly. It would seem unlikely, to say the least of it, that the death of a man's
individual psyche should be the one exception to this
universal law.
So let us celebrate comedy today – the comedy of renewal, rebirth out
of all our pains, and folly, our blunders and our joys. We too can put
up “our ladders” and journey to the resurrection that begins in knowing
and accepting “the
foul rag and bone shop of the heart."
POSTED
September, 2008
Helen
Luke on MAKING CHOICES:
In our moments of choice how
do we /know/ that we are obeying the voice of truth? We can only do our
best to discriminate our motives, free ourselves from conventional
opinions, watch our dreams, use our intelligence, together with our
intuition, weigh the values involved and the effects on other people,
and then act wholeheartedly from the deepest level we know. If our
choice proves to be a mistake, it will be a creative mistake – a
mistake leading to consciousness. If it is a question of a big change
in our lives, something almost always comes from without to meet the
urge from within, and we have a chance to /recognize/ our way – either
by resisting a temptation or by accepting a new attitude. If our
commitment to our ‘fate,’ to the will of God, includes the willingness
to pay the full price, we will not go astray – we will relate to the
Spirit within, not succumb to possession by it. There is no rule to
tell us whether this or that is the right attitude, the right way to
behave in all circumstances.
From: Helen Luke,
The Story of Saul, Kaleidoscope, p. 262
"In
these times, we generally start from a place of fear..."
» POSTED
JANUARY, 2008: Apple
Farm Community Christmas Party; December 22, 2007; Christmas Talk from
Don Raiche.
PDF »
"Fear
Not"
» POSTED
NOVEMBER, 2007
Respect
old things. Experience
those old things.
But take the old outer shell away and create something new from it.
This is the true nature of "tradition."
—Takuo Kato, Japan, current "Living National Treasure"
The phrase,
"extending the tradition," is making it's way into the language of
Apple Farm Community. It stems from an August 2007 Thursday
group guided by Joan Yoder Miller in which two examples of extending
the tradition were offered.
First, a summary of an address
heard in Chautauqua, New York by Peter Gelb, new General Manager of the
Metropolitan Opera in New York City. Gelb is working to
enhance/extend the tradition of opera so that it's appeal continues in
a new generation.
Second, an article
on Japanese potters written by Dick Lehman which can be found at www.dicklehman.com.
Follow the "writings" link to: 1997 Ceramics Monthly (USA),
Summer Issue, Cover Photo and Feature Article: "Shiho Kanzaki:
Extending The Tradition" or go directly to: http://www.dicklehman.com/html/writing/kanzaki.html
»
POSTED
OCTOBER, 2007: Don L.
Troyer, M.D., led a recent group at Apple Farm using the book The
Matrix and Meaning of Character; An Archetypal and Developmental
Approach. Don is a Jungian Analyst and has been associated
with Apple Farm for many years. The response to his presentation was so
favorable that Don has consented to write a review of the book for us.
PDF » A
Review of The Matrix and Meaning of Character, An Archetypal
and Developmental Approach by Nancy J. Dougherty and
Jacqueline J. West (Routledge 2007) «
Contact
us at: applefarm@applefarmcommunity.org
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June 26, 2007 ° Last
Updated: 06/2011