On James Hillman: Au Revoir, and Hello to Uncle Jimmy.

Week before last, my uncle (by marriage) James Hillman – Jungian analyst, scholar and teacher, champion of the psyche, and "renegade" psychologist passed away into the world that comes after this, venturing into a dimension that I'm certain he's currently delighted to discover, given that he'd always dedicated himself to the most profound explorations of life [and death] with all the impetuousness and willingness to be amazed that was his nature. (I didn't know him all that well, but I knew that much for sure.)

I met him first six or seven years ago at a Hillman family reunion at his home in Connecticut with my then-fianceé-now-wife, his niece; again at his eightieth birthday; and then when he attended (...and boogied on down) at our wedding, with his wonderful wife, Margot McLean.

On our first meeting, I was in a formative part of a personal re-configuration, of sorts, doing lots of meditation and reading, but not knowing yet that I'd be called to set down my own personal explorations and discoveries, much less how to go about it. I'd cursorily examined some of his writing (The Soul's Code was in my then wife-to-be's bookshelf), and while he spoke so authoritatively of the same wilderness that I wanted to describe, I found myself more than a bit confounded.

Here was the voice of a true explorer into labyrinthine reaches I'd only just recently been opened to, but speaking in a language that I found nearly indecipherable. It was the language of an academician of the highest order, and as such seemed dense and elaborately logical to me, at the time. But I also saw that it was the welcome language of a Jungian mystic, a popular Gnostic, and a playful articulator. As it was very deep stuff, I began to recognize him as a sort of Jungian Jacques Cousteau of the psyche, diving into the imagery of mythic imaginings, bringing colorful, long lost archetypes to the surface and joyfully rubbing them clean for closer examination. That was his contagious joy of discovery.

He found me on the fringe of the family's reunion activities, perusing the books on his shelf and work table and asked,"Well, what do you think?" I answered that I thought it was a remarkable thing to undertake, "describing the indescribable." His eyes widened and looked straight into mine, "Describing the indescribable," he repeated, "...I suppose so." He smiled (he was always smiling), jumped up and ran off to his duties, to the happy ritual of organizing his family's past and present.

I never got the chance to have the conversation with him that I would have liked to have had—about ourselves, and our relation to all of it; about what I took to be his redefinitions of karma and reincarnation; his marvelous rejection of the intricacies of prescribed psychology, and his instead gleeful embrace of so many of the heroic and romantic idylls of mythology and lost civilization that I'd always wished I could define myself by, when I was a child...when I was that "acorn" growing toward what my life might ask me to become.

Here was a man (suddenly my uncle), who'd given to the entire world that rich and provocative opportunity for self-definition, who'd opened the trap door to that amazing underworld of fantastic self-configuration, embellished and defined by the shared timeless imagery of our psyches. He was a kind of wiry, jocular 80 year-old Heracles, pushing the glasses up on his nose, wrapping up his labors and splashing around like a kid in this gnostic reflecting pool we call Life on Earth. Wrestling with the demiurge was always that much fun for him.

All that had seemed so complex to me at first now winnows itself down to a very direct, playful formula for living... with me dressed in a toga, with a scuba mask, and maybe eagle feathers—and a sword, and a chariot (with Krishna driving, that would complete the picture). Anything to help describe me to my self—or vice-versa.

"It's important to ask yourself, "How am I useful to others? What do people want from me?" That may very well reveal what you are here for."

James Hillman

Enormous respect arose out of the realization that so many of the "amazing" discoveries I thought I was discovering for the very first time were merely simple, commonplace blips and bits of the contents of what his life's work contained. Just a couple out-of-the-way corners of his inexhaustible imagination. Ego jumped in, as usual, and told me "you'll never be that," but then that would be missing Uncle Jimmy's point, wouldn't it? You can be. You are now. We all are!

"Sooner or later something seems to call us on to a particular path...this is what I must do, this is what I've got to have. This is who I am."

James Hillman

It was, after all, his life's work, and whenever I saw him, he most definitely was not working, but instead was taking part in a kind of ongoing celebration of all of Life's moments with the same logical attention to detail – the significance of that very moment, the nuances of storytelling...and always the setting-up of a good joke. There was that Zen fun, the updated Laughing Buddha (with a Jewish twist), invoking the joy of the eternal moment.

"Just stop for a minute and you'll realize you're happy just being. I think it's the pursuit that screws up happiness. If we drop the pursuit, it's right here."

James Hillman

Being a strong believer in the seamlessly continuous nature of life and death, and death and life, I'm looking forward in getting to know Uncle Jimmy better, and asking his help with my own awkward spelunking, in hopes I'll surface with some self-defining evidence from those "other worlds" that we've all inhabited, that focus themselves right here and now. Maybe I can joyfully rub the muck off of those bits and blips, and give them a good once over.

I've pulled together a few locations for you to explore James' life and ideas, and sincerely hope you do. The Wikipedia entry is pretty straight-up and does contain a bibliography. Of particular note are the two really wonderful interviews with Pythia Peay on HuffPo, and Scott London on his excellent site. The YouTube piece is great, but nothing I found really communicates just how funny he is...Enjoy! ...and thank you, Uncle Jimmy.

How to Get to Heaven (Without Really Dying), Wisdom From a Near-Death Survivor is now available, from Llewellyn Worldwide and can be ordered online here. The first book: How to Survive Life (and Death), A Guide To Happiness In This World and Beyond is available everywhere – but ask for them both at your local bookstore!

Tales: Channel Surfing the Cascading Ethics

"Only that which can destroy itself is truly alive." Dr. Carl Jung

I was watching a show on PBS called Nova Science Now "How Smart are Animals," which had some wonderful demonstrations of animal intelligence and emotional sensitivity, but didn't manage much more human awareness concerning the quality of our animal partners' consciousness than existed in the '60s, back when Dr. John Lilly was doing a lot of the same things with dolphins as was shown on this show documenting "the latest" science can offer. It tended to depict intelligent animals as performers - the standard egoic human-enhancing context.

"...not from a law being passed, but from each human understanding innately that these are ancient, sentient earth residents, with tremendous intelligence and enormous life force. Not someone to kill, but someone to learn from."

Dr. John C. Lilly, about dolphins

But still, it demonstrates expanding global awareness to even allow that animals are much smarter and more conscious than people (corporate media) dare to admit. We're the only ones on the planet who have to wear clothes, go to school, get jobs, eat processed food, worry about our baldness (or facial hair), or try to find God. Who's really got this Life on Earth thing mastered - us, or the "lower" species?

We may not fully realize this truth until they're all gone. But I think we will. In fact many more people than publicized know plenty about animal consciousness already.

"Denial is the acceptance of ignorance as truth

through force of will."

At the same time, on The Biography Channel, there was a show called "Mediums: We See Dead People," that investigated irrefutable evidence supporting the validity of human psychic abilities; even to go so far as relating psychic powers to quantum non-locality and wave function, suggesting that there is an extra-dimensional field of accessible information within the Time/Space Continuum; and suggesting that this human form temporarily plays host to an extra-dimensional spiritual being.

Of course, all that's been very well known for thousands of years, but the knowledge has slowly, deliberately been covered-up by egoic commercial and political forces, so they could use it for their own designs. It's not covered-up anymore. It's on The Biography Channel.

"Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and rightdoing

There is a field. I'll meet you there.

When the soul lies down in that grass, the world is too full to talk about.

Ideas, language, even the phrase "each other" doesn't make any sense."

Jalal al-Din Rumi (1207-1273)

On yet another news channel, a young Egyptian man describes the composition of the crowds of his country's revolutionary protesters: they are young; they are educated; they are tech-savvy; they are peaceful; they consider themselves part of a global community; they are tolerant, and open-minded; and they have had enough of unethical behavior from political leaders. In short, they are the human consciousness movement that is growing exponentially in our world today.

The "power elite" is being backed into their corner, making their last stand, as the huge shadow of rising global ethics covers them, and their corrupt hegemony begins to unravel. It's obvious to everyone, except only the most intolerant, self-centered, and closed-minded minority. When these changes become inevitable, materialists squirm and consolidate, and create the conditions for their extinction in the coming tsunami of ethics, and the Great Flood of the human spirit.

"We need to work on the world, so it will not be so oppressive." James Hillman

In a wonderful interview in HuffPost, even my crafty, wise, and very congenial uncle (by marriage), Dr. James Hillman, preeminent Jungian analyst, author, and social commentarian, suggests that the "Super Rich" are considering the ethical alternative to bottomless greed and elite criminality, but his assertion is framed within the corporate media context of right and wrong, black and white, us vs. them - a context which he rightly condemns. That frame is far too narrow for what's going on here, as the spiritual consciousness of this planet, and all life on it begins to dynamically coalesce into material ethical reality. The standard of exploitation will be destroyed, and a new world will arise.

The truth is not black and white; it's not even shades of grey. The truth can be seen from all the way out in space, where, in some other planet's space-based telescope, it simply appears as a small, round ball of blue.

"The common name for God used by the sages is HaMakom, "the place." God is the place of the world, the field in which all things arise and return."

Rabbi Rami Shapiro, on The Pirke Avot

Tales of the Koko Lion, Part 19: Matt Dillon, Flash Gordon, and the Synchronicitous Magic Act

"An unexpected content which is directly or indirectly connected with some objective external event coincides with the ordinary psychic state: this is what I call synchronicity..."

"...experience has shown that under certain conditions space and time can be reduced almost to zero, causality disappears along with them..."

Dr. Carl Jung, Synchronicity, An Acausal Connecting Principle

Koko was not at all himself that evening, even though it was his birthday, a day when one hopes for a bit more self-awareness than the day before. It was either 1990 or 1991, which made him either thirty-four or thirty-five. It mattered little at the time, as he was living in a state of relative detachment from what most people would consider reality, and had been for some time.

Pamela was shimmying into a tiny black cocktail dress, into his eternity, pulling the hem down to where there was little room left for the imagination. She was like a clear-eyed lioness, slightly bent by substances, with legs up to his chin and a drop-hammer temper–and funny...man she was funny. Get her on a roll, and she could really entertain.
 They were getting ready to go out, to celebrate, so naturally he didn't notice that Time and Space were collapsing.

"What am I supposed to get you for your birthday when you already have all the tequila you can drink? She asked wittily.

"There's a new book out, a collection of comic strips by Alex Raymond, you could..."

"Write it down! Whattaya expect me to remember whatever his name is...jeez, can't you see I'm trying to get ready?" She was like that: passive/agressive with a vengeance (which made it just plain aggressive.) Besides, he didn't really expect her to know one of the great comic strip artists of the ages, Alex Raymond, the genius draughtsman responsible for Flash Gordon and Agent X-9. He wrote the name, Alex Raymond, on a small piece of paper and handed it to her.

"Do you see anyplace that I can put that?" He looked at her in her dress, a bare twist of black, barely painted on her slender body, like the girls in her own stylish urban illustrations. He concurred. She did not have a single place to put it.

"Put it in your own pocket, and give it to me later." He folded it up, and put it in his breast pocket. He often found life easier if he just did what she told him to do.

They settled into the bar at Merchants, the trendy saloon across the street from Barney's 7th Avenue, and began to celebrate his birthday in a manner indistinguishable from practically every other day of the year.

Heads turned first when Pamela had entered, a reaction he took for granted. Then again, when the actor Matt Dillon sauntered in a little behind them, looking wide-eyed and innocent.

"Oh my God!" Pamela crushed Koko's lapels and hissed into his ear, "It's Matt DILLON!  I've got to meet him! Get him to come over here and meet me!" He often did what she told him to, so he nonchalantly walked over and put his hand out.

"Hey Matt, I'm a big fan." The star smiled a bit and shook his hand easily. "Drugstore Cowboy was the Best Picture of '89, and you should of won Best Actor." Matt's smile opened wider. The trick was to mean it, and Koko really did. It was an excellent movie, and Matt was excellent in it.

"Thanks," said the star sincerely. "What do you do? I mean, for a living?"

Koko was surprised by the simple generosity shown, and felt that brotherhood one feels in a bar when one wants to settle in to a glass and a chat. He couldn't help but notice the actor's skin, his complexion, it was like sweet seamless alabaster. Flawless. He guessed that movie stars were a little different, in some ways.

"I'm an Illustrator, a Pop Illustrator," he answered. " Magazines, ads, newspapers, like that...and a comics artist."

"Cool!" Matt bunched his brows and looked up towards the pressed-tin ceiling for something. "My Grandma's brother was a famous comics artist..."

"Your Great-Uncle?" Koko clarified.

"Yeah, he was famous. He drew Flash Gordon for the Sunday funny papers..." said the actor.

In Einstein's Theory of Special Relativity, a unit observing another hurtling along parallel paths perceives the other as shortening in length as the two approach the speed of light and Time slows down to a crawl. Matt Dillon seemed a little shorter to Koko than he had the moment before as he reached into his breast pocket and pulled out the folded piece of paper. The actor watched with interest.

"And this..." said Koko mysteriously, slowly unfolding the paper at eye level,"...is the name of your great-uncle!" Koko read the name, Alex Raymond, backwards through the backlit paper, and looked past it into Matt's widening eyes as he looked from the paper to Koko and back again.

"That's, that's...HOW DID YOU DO THAT?" The actor's chin approached the floor. "That was my uncle's name, my great-uncle... ALEX RAYMOND!"

Koko turned to meet Pamela's eyes and waved her over. She got up, pulling her cocktail dress down as she wiggled past him, mouthing "What did you say?" "Don't worry about it," he whispered as he turned, "Matt...this is my girlfriend Pamela. She's a big fan of yours too."

Pamela locked into the space in front of the movie star like dopamine clicking onto a receptor as Koko withdrew to a barstool and gathered himself in the vacuum of the synchronicitous collision. Apparently, everything had to be connected at a profound and unimaginable level. Pamela sparkled and twisted, and God, was she funny in front of the movie star.

Just what the heck is reality? He wondered. What if absolutely nothing at all happens by chance? He shuddered, and drank to that.

"Meaningful coincidences are thinkable as pure chance. But the more they multiply and the greater and more exact the correspondence is, the more their probability sinks and their unthinkability increases, until they can no longer be regarded as pure chance but, for lack of a causal explanation, have to be thought of as meaningful arrangements."

Dr. Carl Jung, Ibid.

Tales of the Koko Lion: Rock Visitors

Here's the rock, and where the deer were...

"The little space within the heart is as great as this vast universe. Both heaven and earth are contained in that space...for the whole universe dwells within our heart."

Chandogya Upanishad, 8.1

One day, Koko was sitting on the rock in the river, chanting the sacred word OM. It seemed a little corny, sure. But it was working. He said the word over and over, from his root and his heart and his throat. His eyes were a little bit completely closed, though he was beginning to see things quite clearly, in a different way. After a while, he felt a presence, and cracked his eyes slightly to look. There, on the bank just across from the rock, were three young, curious deer -just five or six feet away. The young leader looked like: Is there room on the rock for me? I'd like to step across. There wasn't enough room on the rock, but in their hearts, there was all the space in a thousand universes.

Have you ever heard of The Unified Field Theory? Physicists have been working on it for a hundred years, at least. But there's one major ingredient that they keep leaving out of their formulae: Consciousness. The deer, the river, even the breeze on Koko's face (even Koko), are drifting particles, realizing their material forms in and out of wave phases. Some things just are, formed out of our shared consciousness. Some things are just for you, formed from the energy of your heart, which is like a giant light-energy top, spinning in the middle of your being. In fact you could say, it is you.

Live from your heart. Release all the expectations you have for the things you want. You're getting everything you need already. You don't have to go any where else to be where you want to be. Or try this: get on the bus, go across town, sit in a new cafe, open your heart, and be half way around the world, in the most beautiful and romantic place you've ever wanted to be. Covet what you already have.

"The whites always want something; they are always uneasy and restless. We do not know what they want. We do not understand them. We think that they are mad."

I asked him why he thought the whites were all mad.

"They say that they think with their heads," he replied.

"Why of course. What do you think with?" I asked him in surprise.

"We think here," he said, indicating his heart.

The Pueblo Indian, Ochwiay Biano (Mountain Lake) to Carl Jung,

from Memories, Dreams, Reflections

""The heart is a sanctuary at the center of which there is a little space, wherein the Great Spirit dwells, and this is the eye...by which He sees all things, and through which we see Him."

Black Elk

The Zero Point is Everything

"Who looks outside, dreams.

Who looks inside, awakens."

Carl Jung

When you close your eyes, what do you see? Most people would say that they don't see anything except darkness. But you know that's not really true. What you actually see when you close your eyes is an amazing dance of electrochemical color fields and particles, waving and surging up out of the "darkness." You're seeing the effervescent energy that enlivens everything. Here is the ether – the Zero Point Energy ("emptiness") that for some reason, the human mind wants to call "darkness." It's from this rod-and-cone wave/particle participation that our shared consciousness creates everything we see. It's a view of the electric truth that powers these chemical robots we inhabit.

Must be that darn Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge we ate somewhere along the way that makes the ego-mind constantly strive to detach us from the reality of a world so obviously out-of-balance, and from an existence of inextricable interwovenness with every other human who's simultaneously experiencing many of the exact same thoughts, fears, and joys as you are. The ego-mind wants to separate everyone by constantly telling you that you're different and special. And of course, you are. Everyone is. In that very sense alone, we are all the same thing.

Look at the reflections of the sun dancing off the surface of a lake, then close your eyes and look the same way at the performance of energy in the after-imaging inside your eyes. Now look up a bit (eyes wide shut) toward the center of your forehead, towards your third eye, as we tree-huggers call it. There you may very well find a wellspring of golden-white shimmer amongst the dancing energies. It's the door to the source, and if you can stick your head in there a while, you'll come back refreshed and energized. If you don't make it in the first time, try it again. You'll get there if you try. Everybody does who tries (and always has), if they keep it up and allow it. You might recognize and enjoy this as a meditation.

If you can, go to a gallery that has some Rothko paintings, stand in front of one and stare transfixed into the center of it. The memory of lake reflections may very well kick you into a new understanding of art as a portal to the "unseen."

What do you hear when you listen to the voices in your head? Do you just hear one strong and clear voice that is "you?" Probably not. You might hear an anxious or worried voice; an assertive, resolved voice; a poetic, natural voice. Do you hear the calm voice of reason sometimes? Next time you hear that voice, concentrate on it, and identify yourself with it. That's your intuitive connection to universal intelligence, what The Buddha, Stephen Hawking, or Deepak Chopra might call, "the mind of God."

Are all these voices tantamount to schizophrenia? Sometimes. There's not that much difference really. Sometimes. It doesn't matter if they issue from the well of Jung's collective unconscious, from the dark recesses of your own "personal" psyche, from your right or wrong functioning brain chemistry, or from extra-dimensional entities (spirit guides) – what's the difference, really? You'll still know them by the fruit they bear.

This is where personal responsibility comes in. If a thought suggests that you do harm to yourself or someone else, it's coming from a bad place and needs to be ignored. It's not the real you, just a fear-based reflection of the world as our ego-mind needs to see it (or refuses to see it). Just ask for help from your "healthy psyche–well brain–angel spirit" voice, then sit still and listen for an answer. If you don't hear one, be quieter and listen closer.

This is an explanation for both the secular and agnostic (God bless 'em). My personal truth is somewhere around here: this is the voice of your ancestors, who walked on this very ground, and breathed this very air, and whose lives were no less important than yours for their passing, because you are living it now. So pay attention, even if someone tells you you're crazy to listen to that voice in your head. You may be crazy not to. Remember, your spirit guides are more authentic than any anchorperson will ever be...