What Jung Taught Me About Not Becoming a Jungian and About Finding My Own Myth

When I first delved into the study of mythology at Pacifica Graduate Institute (PGI), I was captivated by the world of depth psychology, particularly the towering figure of Carl Jung. His theories offered a seemingly perfect lens through which to understand the timeless power of myths – connecting ancient narratives to universal archetypes, the collective unconscious, and the deeply personal journey of individuation. It felt like I had found a profound key to unlocking not just stories, but the very essence of human experience.

Jung's framework provided immense value. It illuminated how our inner lives resonate with these grand tales, and it offered a vocabulary for the symbolic world that so powerfully shapes us. For a significant period, it was the bedrock of my understanding, allowing me to see meaning and patterns where I hadn't before.

However, as my academic journey progressed, particularly into the rigorous demands of dissertation research, a subtle yet profound shift began to occur. I started to perceive that while Jung's psychological framework was incredibly insightful, it was, in a very real sense, his personal mythology – a brilliant, elaborate map drawn from his unique perspective and experiences. My own rigorous study of myths began to reveal nuances and structures that felt constrained by a single, albeit comprehensive, psychological interpretation.

It was then that Jung’s own profound philosophy resonated with me with new clarity. He famously stated, "I am not a Jungian, nor do I believe in creating a Jungian school of thought. I do not want to create an institute, because that would imply a dogma, and my work is not a doctrine but a process of understanding." This wasn't just a philosophical statement; it felt like a direct invitation, a challenge even, to step beyond the established framework and seek out a more universal, less prescriptive way to understand the inherent power of stories. It became clear that to truly honor his spirit, I needed to venture beyond his specific interpretations and discover a different kind of blueprint that would allow others to "find their own myths" rather than simply follow his.

This search led me to the unexpected and incredibly liberating world of systems thinking. What I discovered was that systems thinking isn't merely an external analytical approach I apply to myths; it's something inherent in their very structure. Myths, I realized, are not chaotic narratives; they are meticulously constructed systems.

In systems thinking, a system isn't just a collection of parts; it's a dynamic set of interconnecting relationships that organizes both tangible and intangible elements into a coherent pattern, all working to achieve a specific purpose or function over time. This definition perfectly articulated what I was seeing in epics:

• Tangible and Intangible Elements: In Dante's The Divine Comedy, these include Dante the pilgrim, Virgil, Beatrice, the specific souls encountered in each realm, the physical landscapes of Inferno, Purgatorio, and Paradiso, and intangible elements like sins, virtues, divine justice, free will, and the laws governing the afterlife.

  
  

• Interconnecting Relationships: These are all those prophecies, divine interventions, moral laws, and the complex cause-and-effect sequences that bind the narrative together. In The Divine Comedy, we see the intricate cause-and-effect of sin leading to specific punishments or purification, the guiding relationships between Dante and his mentors, and the hierarchical order of the cosmos. Every choice has a systemic consequence, and each realm representing a distinct phase of systemic interaction.

  
  

• Purpose and Feedback Loops: The Divine Comedy itself is a meticulously constructed system with a clear purpose: to illustrate divine justice, the consequences of human choices, and the path to spiritual redemption. The suffering in Inferno acts as a profound negative feedback loop for unchecked sin, while the purification in Purgatorio and the ascent in Paradiso demonstrate reinforcing feedback loops of virtuous action leading to greater bliss.

  
  

This shift was transformative. It wasn't about abandoning the wisdom gained from depth psychology, but about integrating it into a broader understanding that appreciates the myth's own internal logic and its relevance to societal structures, not just individual psyches.

This profound evolution in my thinking is the very foundation of "Mythos and Modalities." Our podcast isn't about applying one fixed interpretive lens. Instead, we explore these rich narratives from multiple angles, perspectives, and analytical frameworks – what we call "modalities". We aim to provide you with the tools to dissect epic myths not just for their narratives, but for the intricate systems that drive them, encouraging you to see the hidden logic and interconnected patterns that reveal universal truths.

Ultimately, Jung taught me the importance of the mythic dimension in life. But more profoundly, he taught me the courage to step beyond his own brilliant insights to find a framework that allowed me, and now my listeners, to truly find and understand their own myths within the magnificent, systemic architecture of storytelling.