Poets, Mavericks & Prophets

Notes On Alchemical Psychology is a series of texts dedicated to personal creative therapeutic work, merging the old ways & the new. In this note, I ruminate on the Winter Solstice, soul fragmentation, solar integration, as well as our inferior psychological function, a potent reminder that there is immense treasure waiting to be illuminated in the dark.

The Winter Solstice in the Northern Hemisphere (where I am currently at), with the Sun at its zenith on the Tropic of Capricorn, offering the least amount of daylight to the living world below, seems an apt time to ponder on our solar presence in the world, our individuality, integrity, sovereignty, our luminous imprint on the collective — how it becomes diminished, and how it may be ignited again. Our own Sol Invictus — dimming our self-awareness, then expanding it, all according to the particular mechanism of our unique microcosm.

Mostly, these days, I am preoccupied with fragmentation. A lack of concentration and focus. A darkened inner sun, if you will, intensely magnified by social media, and the 24h news cycle — the ways we are trained to think (and exist) in soundbites. At times, this scattered condition, with a total of the proverbial 33 tabs open, interferes with my work more than usual. Pieces of overwhelming content becoming irresistible in their erratic pull, especially in times of collective turmoil. All of this made worse by the very nature of what I do, which is writing for a living — and the amount of research I conduct online (and, therefore, spend online).

Never being diagnosed with ADHD when young, my neurological type went under the radar for quite a while, as I kept up my homework, and could focus on tasks for hours (seemingly), but there was always a hidden inner impulse to flee an uncomfortable, oppressive situation, one that as a child I could not change. So I switched my attention to a different kind of escape, not of the physical sort, mainly through artwork and daydreaming, which I could slip in and out of, discretely, when the pressure of the ordered world became too strong. I’d scribble poetry on napkins, tune out and draw on margins of books, binge on comics and write up stories in pauses of study, without an awareness that this was a sort of coping mechanism I was devising, an inner hyperactivity, almost invisible to anyone else but myself. Somehow, I managed to blend this entire parallel universe with what was required of me in school, and for the life of me I cannot, still, to this day, imagine how I was able to do this, and still have good grades.

Especially groundbreaking in constructing this secret stash of imaginal delights was the day I discovered cartomancy. Maybe I was fourteen or so. That sort of diversion only developed with the expansion of my divinatory toolkit, conjuring even more perfect getaways. Being able to delve into the pattern of events proved to be incredibly stress-releasing, which helped me cope further with the dreary reality of mundane activities, without skipping too much of a beat.

In hindsight, this tactic feels more than a tad Promethean, as if I had been stealing fire from the Gods, secretly subverting the required societal form, until the day it disintegrates from within — and rebellion, itself, becomes my reality. That became my modus operandi.

But as all coping mechanisms outlive their initial purpose, hindering the very process they were devised to protect, so the ingrained fragmentation, and the creativity that blossomed from my unconscious tactics, became a self-fulfilling prophecy in my adult life, and woefully translated into an inability to focus fully if not being faced with an external obstacle — the heftier, the better. So the stakes in amping up obstacles grew, more or less, subconsciously.

It helps when we reach a fork in the road, a standstill, a blind alley, a period of aimlessly carrying around dead weight, to look back at all the things we took for granted. Especially if they start slowly slipping away from our grasp. In my case, it is my ability to immerse myself in creativity, as an outlet for outer (an inner) pressure, and for extended periods of time.

In your case the magical tool might be entirely different. Nevertheless, it will always be something you are very good at, your go-to mode of functioning in the world, which begins to rapidly disintegrate in its efficiency, for reasons that you cannot entirely fathom. A fragmentation of inner resources, causing an inversion of growth, a sense of instability, and a decay in vitality.

In his Psychological Types (1921) C.G. Jung spoke of the importance of our inferior function, not the superior one (the way of functioning we are brilliant at), in achieving the final goal of individuation. As it resists integration, behaving as an autonomous complex, the inferior function covertly influences (and sabotages) what we excel at. Lurking from the shadows is the unconquerable demon, the thing we simply pushed away as we felt we were not skilled or talented at it, that we were not ‘naturals’, and it was the easier, less painful thing to do. It’s all that stuff we rather avoid. This could be our thinking, or our feeling self, our sensuality, or our intuitive nature, the combinations are many, and nuanced. Yet, returning to the aspects of ourselves we deemed much lesser, imperfect, shameful even, and dedicating time to the failings and sensitivities of these seemingly lackluster traits or ways of being in the world can do wonders in claiming back our integrity.

In my case, as an intuitive, it is the counterpoint of sensations that is the culprit, my strange relation to the physical world, as I am often oblivious of what is right in front of my eyes, especially when following a thread of metaphysical discovery, or simply, a creative hunch. My hope of grounding becomes further lost in the attempt of rooting myself in society via the the world wide web, i.e. the virtual real, so a daily practice of mundane tasks, and actual pleasure in achieving them, does more for re-centring my blasted focus, than all other protocols I have followed.

Meeting actual humans in an actual physical settings, driving my car, cooking, doing my grocery shopping, paying my bills, as well as walking in nature, swimming, working with plants, and crafting art based exclusively on physical touch, all of this is something that if I work at it every day, it helps me balance and integrate my existence in ways I am stunned at witnessing at times, as well as give me immense pleasure in achieving. As I am simply not used to being fluent in them. Although, some of these, as driving and crafts, it turns out I am actually pretty good at.

It would be the same for a person versed in feeling their way through life taking up crossword puzzles to boost their neglected thinking function, a part of themselves they have trouble with addressing, and finding out they are ace at them, or at least, good enough.

It’s a tricky road, though, focusing on things we rather avoid doing, in order to allow sunshine in those neglected places. This could be for various reasons. Maybe due to early parental discouragement, fear, intimidation, or even to deflect a sense of competition with a parent. It could be more than just ineptness that we first need to confront in order to continue. There are important reasons why we evade things, and reviving a particular activity equally revives the possible pain related to it. This process also requires relinquishing our over-emphasised strong points, our safest bets, smoothest ways of expression, and nurturing our abandoned selves back to health. Flexing those muscles, I found that a little bit goes a long way, and I take care not to overdo what had been ignored, because as with all things disregarded, those parts of us might come back with a vengeance, and take over the rest of our activities, especially the preferred ones, causing us to doubt the very thing we know how to do really well, which is often our profession.

All that has been suppressed needs actual time to properly develop and grow. But, when it does, it gives us back our essential, core strength. It provides true confidence, not false bravado. And that’s a prime solar word, a key to the symbolism of the Sun, more than any other. Fragments of our lost soul selves can then safely return to the fold.

So, in this longest night of the year (for those of us in the North), let us quietly meditate on how much beauty and joy is being recovered in the darkness, this very minute, in the soft, fecund embrace of the setting Sun.

Happy Solstice.✨

AUTHOR: ©Milana Vujkov

Disclaimer – These notes follow a personal journey, and are offered as philosophical & creative inspiration. Although I am a psychologist by education, the material within them is not therapy or substitute for therapy. However, they are dedicated as temenos for accessing the therapeutic numinous, in hope of being of good service to your soul in exploring the potentials of each moment in time.