The Psychology of Love and Power

The session on love and power at the C.G. Jung Foundation in Manhattan begins with representations of the archetypal poles. First we see an image of the Garden of Eden, familiar as rain; then a photo of Rodin’s Gates of Hell, which in the flesh is six meters high. I recall Rodin had intended to depict scenes from Dante’s Inferno, but decided to populate his sculpture with 200 miniature figures that show familiar 20th century images of angst, particular pain and dread.

The instructor, a Jungian analyst, mentioned that a replica of the Gates of Hell in the Philadelphia Rodin Museum is a popular stopping-off place for newlyweds after the ceremony. I’m not sure if they kiss, rub or reflect on this shrine as a storehouse of psychological angst that might visit them after the glow subsides

This seminar was about the archetypal dimensions associated with “falling in love” and examined the unconscious processes and influences that our parents, environment, and complexes have on the relationship choices we make. And it will be in the shadow of Rodin’s masterpiece that we will likely find and identify our early wounds and unconscious patterns that keep us stuck in unhealthy relationships.

Saturday morning and the place is packed. On my right is a young woman who conducts individual and couples therapy by using astrology. We have a quick side-chat about how a man might recognize aspects of Saturn creeping into his relationship. On my left is a psychologist from the Bronx who works with patients who are hearing voices. Nearby, a woman is asks about using fetishes as a way to recover from trauma and rape. The needs seem so great. And the class is just beginning.

Carl Jung gave us the Word Association Test and a way to recognize our complexes and what pushed our psychological buttons. The speaker mentioned that recent word association responses in twenty-four families showed that the affective state of the Mother is often dominant in her children. We should not be surprised that the Mother becomes the center of our energy field. The more sensitive the child, the more of this energy he or she will absorb!

Jung also introduced the concept of “living the unlived lives” of our parents, describing the likely outcome on children when parents live unconsciously. In short: “As they do, so do we.” What I don’t resolve will become me; I will likely repeat the same parental pattern. This neurosis can begin in infancy.

We know that from 0–18 months babies are in the attachment phase. From 0–12 years, the child ideally learns trust, purpose and identity. Or she can learn the world is not safe and internalizes mistrust. One way or another, the child will carry the parent.

The instructor explains that what pushes my buttons will sound a lot like my parents, “coming out sideways,” as if I don’t have full control of my language or my will. The negative traits of our parents trickle-down and become part of the individual psyche. In this instance, I probably will look for a lover who matches my wounds and trauma. If I am not conscious, the narrative — here we go again — can become generational.

The instructor quotes Eric Fromm, who apparently considered falling in love a form of mental illness. Given the language associated with this condition, including a sense of divine necessity in that I can’t live without the Other, Fromm might not be far off the mark. But the instructor doesn’t suggest that we should not fall desperately in love and spend the requisite time in the Garden of Eden. In our leisure, we can reflect on Tina Turner’s insight that love is a second-hand emotion. What Ms. Turner didn’t tell us was that this gift is courtesy of our parents.

In a rare introduction of the personal, the instructor told us that when she was in college she was really into wrestlers but ended up marrying the Pillsbury Dough Boy. She is very happy. The assembled appreciated her wit, insight and honesty.

Those in Philadelphia who visit the Gates of Hell after the wedding ceremony might consider going before the event. Such advice is decidedly metaphorical, a useful way to enliven a seminar. The psychological response is to recognize patterns, language, and behaviors that might have trickled down from our parents and are carried by us unconsciously until this inheritance comes out sideways, as if we were meeting these “little people,” as Jung called them, for the very first time.

Whatever psychological path we choose, we are likely to suffer. But suffering in the service of change might be more preferable over time than neurotic suffering. Of course, psychological insights are often trumped by utility. We know that many people prefer neurotic suffering because of the secondary gains. Just listen to the popular chorus when the next “woe is me” is dropped into the conversation. Amen to that.

I hadn’t expected a session on depth psychology to end with a quote from Reader’s Digest, but here it is: “When you can’t fight or flee, you had better flow.”