Looking for One’s Other Half

I have often felt like a misfit due to my views being different from the values of the culture I live in. One prominent example is my attitude towards romance. In my twenties especially, most people I knew were looking for the “right person” and many expected me to do the same. I remember many frustrating conversations where the topic came up and I was asked why I did not want to get married. My answer quite often provoked more questions, and despite my best efforts I usually felt that I could not get the person to understand that like there are some things they would not choose for themselves, I simply did not feel inclined. I don’t remember ever asking anyone why they did want to get married. It’s not because I wasn’t interested in their views, but because I thought the answer was personal, like a choice of career or hobby.

Marriage aside, the idea of an intimate relationship was not a non-issue for me. I felt that the concept of looking for another person as one’s other half was ingrained in the collective mind-set, but it did not work for me. When I looked for someone as a potential relationship partner, I felt lacking because I was not in a relationship. The biggest problem for me was knowing how much people revere the idea of the right person, and feeling that in my flawed human state I could never live up to someone’s expectations. An obvious challenge was the truth of my feelings about marriage when there seemed to be consensus among the people I knew that the point of any relationship was finding the right marriage partner. I could not be close to someone and cover up my truth.

A lot of people gave advice on finding the right person. Some of them were single or divorced, and although logically I knew that they did not have it all figured out, I was confused by the fact that everyone seemed to have answers even when they didn’t, and I had none. In theory I understood that another person could not fulfil me, and that I had to make myself happy first before I could think about being happy with another. Of course I was aware that if one tries to be happy for the sake of finding someone, one is missing the point. Still, I did not always recognise that inner work aimed at self-improvement was still putting pressure on myself to do better than just where I was. Striving to improve sounds admirable, but there is the danger of rejecting unwanted aspects of one’s person.

I only really stopped feeling powerless about relationships and my ineptitude when I went beyond rational thought and started dealing with my true feelings. Even though I reprimanded myself for it, there was the fear of the unknown if I never got into a serious romantic relationship. In my mind there was a social stigma around being an unmarried older woman. Worse than being unworthy of any man’s attention or failure at what nearly every person could do at some point or another, i.e. be intimate with someone, was my fear of falling through the cracks in society. I felt that I would be judged as abnormal if I didn’t live up to this expectation. The fear boiled down to being an outcast, but when I realised I was comfortable with my circumstances, I could have conviction in my own choices regardless of society’s standards.

Even though I am in a stable relationship now, I still think that the right person is a myth. When we look for our "other half" it is based on an illusion that the light in me needs the light in another to be whole and complete. Instead I think that the other half we are looking for is our own darkness. Our fears and weaknesses give us important information. When we own and acknowledge those unwanted aspects of our being, the light in us is more powerful. Finding a special connection and possibly sharing one’s life with another is a mystery I will not pretend to understand.

Privilege and Its Pitfalls

Privilege is generally seen as a positive aspect of life, but the idea could be a hindrance to personal freedom and promote social inequality. In my middle class Protestant background, as children we were made aware of our privilege from an early age. We were taught to be grateful for having our survival needs met and having access to the best facilities, which would enable us to continue the legacy provided that we devoted our efforts to society’s notion of success. Quite often the idea was at odds with religious doctrine of love, service and the insignificance of material possessions. While I think gratitude is a most valuable tool to navigate the waters of life, I don’t see any reason why it should be adopted against the misfortune of others, however subtly it is brought into the equation.

The Wheel of Fortune as a symbol
illustrates that everyone is subject
to the ups and downs of life.

Within the idea of privilege I find a subconscious assumption that only some people can have good fortune while others have to be underdogs. This is problematic on so many levels, especially when it is accepted that that is just the way the world works. To begin with, those in “privileged” positions might not be happy with their circumstances, because the set-up does not suit them. They might not be content for whatever reason, and within our rigid social structure that classifies people according to their wealth, there might be little escape for the privileged in misery. Making changes could compromise their relationships, finances and social position, which could lead to even more suffering and disconnection from others. From a different perspective, regarding some people as under-privileged because of the absence of financial riches could deny their competences. We limit ourselves when we define people according to their financial capacities. There is light and darkness in everything, and in reality human nature cannot be confined within social categories.

Our notion of privilege also encourages me to think about where basic rights end and where special rewards begin. In a truly humanitarian society, having one’s survival needs met would be a right unless Nature decides otherwise. The same goes for access to education in a chosen area of interest when it is available. I do not propose that anything should be taken for granted, but I think an attitude of appreciation is a personal choice that benefits the one who adopts that mind-set. Clinging to stale notions of privilege makes inequality easier to justify as it is convenient to argue that working in harsh circumstances or being underpaid is preferable to having no income. It is inevitable that those in privileged positions are the benefactors giving the under-privileged the means to survive. A power imbalance can thereby easily be disguised as charity.

Something I find ironic is seeing how often misery results from clinging to superior positions. It might be my own projection, but I have often felt that in highly privileged environments there is little room for hilarity or genuine connection. Some of the wisest and kindest people I have known didn’t have money or status, and I have been to places where people showed warmth to me despite difficult political and economic circumstances. I do not wish to deny the challenges faced by those who struggle financially, or claim that everyone who is rich or successful is miserable. I do however suggest that we look deeper into our notion of privilege and question whether it is useful in any way unless we can have compassion while there is still social inequality.

Ultimately privilege is a matter of perspective. Life can be seen as a privilege with all the ups and downs, even though it might not always be obvious in dark times. Sharing with and learning from others, no matter what the differences in background, can enrich us if we look past appearances.

The Hero’s Journey and the Collective Unconscious

I started writing my first novel, In Search of the Golden City, when I was ill with hepatitis. I had wanted to write an actual full book of fiction (as opposed to poetry, essays or academic writing) for more than a decade, but I didn’t have inspiration, or I was busy, or afraid although I didn’t know it back then. Being spiritually oriented, I asked for an idea and I received one, and still I postponed the actual writing. I set a deadline, or rather a starting line, for myself, but the day came and went and still I hadn’t done anything. Two weeks later I fell ill and was booked off work for three weeks. I still believe that it was the Universe’s way of nudging me forward.

The story took shape as I continued, and I finished the book by being committed to writing a certain number of hours a week. During the process of writing I let myself go and allowed whatever wanted to emerge. The end product was a very symbolic tale filled with mythical elements. I was fascinated to discover similar themes in myths or stories written by others. As an example, a friend with whom I share an interest in mysticism, spirituality and healing introduced me to her friend who is also a writer, Eva Lara. I learned that she had written a book in Spanish called El Guardián del Umbral, English translation The Guardian of the Threshold. I have not read her book because I do not understand Spanish, but just going on the title, the book I had already written contained the same theme verbatim. I also read about the concept of the Hero's Journey as identified by Joseph Campbell in The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Although I had no knowledge of the concept prior to finishing my book, I found that there were many parallels in my novel.

The fool in the Tarot can be a symbol
of embarking on a personal journey.

When I studied psychology at university, I was introduced to the work of Carl Jung and the theory of the collective unconscious, a realm of archetypes that take expression in myths, connected to the human psyche. When I learned about shamanism, I could equate it to the spirit world. I believe that this aspect of our being is universal to humanity, and even though we have become profoundly disconnected from it in our modern society, it still shows up in our art, religion and even science. From this perspective, the Hero's Journey perhaps tells us something about being human that we all know deep down although we are not always aware of it.

For the purpose of this article I will focus on my understanding of the Hero’s Journey as it features in my own writing. Broadly speaking, the Hero's Journey is one of personal transformation. The hero receives a call to go on an adventure, much like Bilbo in Tolkien’s work The Hobbit. He receives supernatural help or guidance and at some point crosses a boundary between the known and the unknown, where he enters a magical landscape. Here he faces challenges and finds wisdom, sometimes through dying and being reborn. He can then return to the known world or material reality to apply what he has learned. (Source: Wikipedia.)

The protagonist in my book is a healer called Akim, who goes in search of a legendary Golden City because he wants to be with the woman he loves. There are no directions to the Golden City, and his clues are stories of others who have made it there by remaining true to themselves:

“… what they had in common was an almost desperate desire to reach the Golden City. Some of them had it easier than others; some were courageous, but most of them were far from perfect. A few were rather bad, but they were redeemed through introspection and love for something or someone outside themselves.”

As individuals we vary in our goals and ideas, but the similarities between the stories we come up with lead me to the idea that perhaps collectively we have a common purpose that is mysterious and veiled, but without which life has little meaning. Could the Hero’s Journey be about the will to grow? Could it tell us something about a soul’s journey in a corporeal existence and the drive to know and create the self through transcending ordinary reality? I am reminded of the Biblical Paul’s words in his letter to the Corinthians: “For now we see in a mirror, dimly; but then face to face. Now I know in part; but then shall I know just as also I am known.” (Translation from Wikipedia.) I no longer go to church, but having grown up in a Christian environment I remember 1 Corinthians 13, about love, as one of my favourite passages in the Bible.

As a final note I will add that the experience of illness as a call to purpose or healing through engaging with the spiritual realms is a universal concept of shamanic initiation. In this case, I needed to keep my commitments and act on what I had been given. As soon as I did, I recovered faster and in the end went back to work after only a week and a half. The writing must have healed my body and soul.

Creativity and our Connection with the Universal Mind

Creativity is an interesting thing because nobody can really tell another person how to be creative. Many people have told me that they are not creative at all, but I don’t believe them. Some people express their creativity more than others, while many people prefer to think of themselves as analytical thinkers. But all of us have creative imagination as well as the ability to think logically. I think that creativity is intrinsically a part of every human being as much as the capacity to love.

Many people don’t develop their creative faculty, or they lose touch with it because they are not encouraged to use it. Although I have always written poetry and/or kept a journal, I put less effort into it in the time when my office job consumed most of my time and energy. The most useful advice I got to help me actually start writing fiction, something I had dreamed of doing for 14 years before I started, was from reading interviews with established authors like Neil Gaiman and Paulo Coelho. I learned that an author doesn’t need to have everything exactly worked out before starting to write, and that the unconscious is a valuable tool. Having gathered enough courage and filled to the brim with frustration with my circumstances, I started writing without really knowing what I was doing. What emerged was at times unexpected, and it intrigued me.

The creative process is fluid, and reflecting on it I cannot say that I truly know what the relationship between me, the story and the characters is. I used to think that an author invented a story, and for me the idea was a barrier as I felt that it was too difficult to think of something as brilliant as some of the stories I have read. Things changed when I asked for a story, and met the characters in another realm, and asked them to tell me their story. In that way, something sincere started to unfold. Rather than achieving something, I felt that my first novel, In Search of the Golden City, was a journey through which I learned a lot about myself and my personal path. The creative process is all the more spell-binding when I work with it even though I don’t understand it.

Through creativity I feel a connection with the universe, and this brings to mind the mysterious Source of everything we know. The idea of the universe as a creation has been in dispute by mainstream religion and mainstream science, as if our human minds could know the answers to something as profound and impenetrable as universal origins. I have at times felt that talking about “creation” is heretical in the eyes of supporters of the science paradigm, because it presupposes the idea of an intelligent force behind everything. To some people it smacks of religious dogma, and to combat it, they would rather embrace the idea of an accident without purpose. Religious and scientific dogma aside, I do feel that there is a Creative Source that I am sometimes more in touch with than others, and that magic and healing start happening through communion with this Source.

As an artist, when I create something, it doesn’t always come out as planned. What I create has a will of its own, and the process is most powerful when I allow that will to come through me. In that sense, I don’t feel like a creator at all, rather an instrument. Although my characters are sometimes in conflict with one another, they are part of the same story, and they learn from one another since each expresses an aspect of something that is buried within me.

Suppose then, we wove our own stories through the universe as a work of art, what would our relationship with the Creator be? I think that question is as open for interpretation as the one of what my relationship with the characters in the stories I write is. In my opinion, the conventional idea of intelligent design falls short when it advocates a creator that made the universe a long time ago but is essentially separate from it. The idea of accident without purpose doesn’t ring true either. Without pretending to know anything, I could imagine that we are all part of the same dream, and that each person or thing is an aspect of the dream. As we live, we could strive towards creating bright, powerful stories with the full magic of being a facet of a glorious and unfathomable dream. Or we could play a part in a dull story directed by those who deny the spectacular life force, if we believe in their power rather than our own.

Forests, Competition and the Circle of Life

I recently spent a week up in the Scottish highlands for a conservation project with an organisation called Trees for Life. The main focus of the charity is replanting the Caledonian forest, which has been destroyed by human activities through the course of centuries. Some of the destruction was due to material needed for warfare, while farming, commercial hunting and the disappearance of large predators also played a role. On this week I was in training to lead conservation volunteers, and I had to assist with planting demonstrations and other conservation activities. Talking to the land and the trees is habitual for me, but my practical conservation knowledge is limited. So when I led the planting demonstration, I mostly did it by the book.

During the activity, a volunteer asked whether it is necessary to remove grass from the surrounding turf to eliminate competition and give the newly planted tree the best chance to survive. I passed the question on to another facilitator, and he said that because machine mounding had been done, the terrain was prepared. The practice of removing the top layer of vegetation around the tree might have been required if this weren’t the case. In the meantime, however, I have learned that results are poorer when this is done.

The plantation in the distance and clear land in the
foreground. It is difficult to imagine that most of
the land was once covered by natural forests.

We were working in the heart of a plantation. Looking around at the imposing non-native trees planted in rows with almost militant precision, our task of recreating a near-natural forest was daunting to say the least. Those small native trees have to be given the best chance to survive, and planting is hard work and time-consuming. I find it almost heart-breaking to think of the beauty and tranquillity of natural forests that could be destroyed so easily through aggression, greed and short-sightedness. The effort to rebuild is painstaking, and the irony is that if we left Nature to her own devices she would create a majestic work of art, without being paid for it and seemingly with no effort, just because life. If only we could learn how to work with nature, how to be nature, then maybe we could leave a legacy for generations after us without destroying what should be available to them.

That idea, competition. In terms of conservation ecology when one is trying to give nature a helping hand, it makes sense. Those tiny trees have been cultivated by human hands with a lot of care before they are given a proper home. Working with them in the nursery, I get a sense of excitement, as if they can’t wait to push their roots deep down into the earth and reach up, little by little every year, to drink in light from the sun and touch the stars. They have to be protected, otherwise all the sweat and love that have been poured into them go to waste. A good idea rots if not properly applied, but if it doesn’t work after having been given the right kind of effort, the energy moves on to be used elsewhere.

Nonetheless, I have to reflect on how our ingrained ideas springing from millennia of conditioning influence our understanding of nature. Looking at nature, I see a circle of life, and in her presence I feel connection and flow. There is a clash in my soul between this calm presence and society’s idea that we need to fight for some things and compete for others. Seeds grow when there is a proper place for them to do so, and a healthy ecosystem is established when different species work together as one organism. When the life force is behind it, the right time for everything to grow and decay establishes itself. This is the sacred energy that many people feel in natural forests. Somehow I can’t help wondering if our beliefs that some people deserve life more than others, and some ideas are worth defending more than others, cause the imbalance that ruins the harmonious working together of organisms. I wonder, if we stop aligning with ideologies that exclude others from our family, whether the idea of competition would also fade away. Maybe then we could approach our homes and relationship with those outside of our homes as an ecosystem, where there are no defined boundaries, but wellness on a small scale can be expanded indefinitely no matter what the size of the population is.

It is clearly preposterous to think that one part of a forest has to compete with another part of a forest. A forest would be boring if one species had to reign supreme or if other species were extinguished. There is space for everyone, and where only one thing can grow in any particular place, the species that would be able to adapt best would be the survivor. I could imagine that other plants would willingly step aside and say, “Clearly this is a better place for you, so I would find another place to thrive. I’ll sit on the hilltop and talk to you while you stand in the shade.”

I’m hoping that those of us who have the privilege of spending time in nature will take her wisdom back to the concrete jungle with us. I have faith that the more we bring our forgotten human nature to our disconnected lifestyles, the more we would see healthy forests in our living spaces, and the less land would be used for purposes of exploitation and conflict. I wonder if the idea of eliminating competition to ensure the success of our own enterprises, even in conservation projects, would eventually be replaced by one of consciously working together to restore harmony on earth.

Clouds and Dreams

Nature talks to us, and often reveals to me something about what’s going on in my own mind. Clouds have caught my attention over the last week, especially the wispy kind that drifts in a clear blue sky. In Scotland where most days are marked by an overcast sky, these light clouds are pleasing to the eye. To me clouds represent dreaming, and reflecting on them I gained insight into the relationship between ideas and action.

Clouds vary in shape and form. They represent illusion in the sense that they appear soft like cotton, but consist of water. They are continually in motion, moved by currents that are invisible to the eye. It is easy to see a vision in clouds, signifying the uniqueness of each person’s point of view. The perceived shape is never true to the actual shape of the cloud, and since it changes all the time, it reminds of the fluid character of dreams. Clouds vary in tone, more so when the sun is shining. Where an endless blue sky can become monotonous, clouds that reflect the interplay between light and darkness give character to the heavens. The overcast aspect of clouds indicate the collective nature of thought and reality: while each perspective is unique, we also co-create the world through the way we dream together.

Representation of the World Tree:
the Shamanic Model of the Spiritual Realm

In the shamanic model of the spiritual world, there are three aspects which are connected to one another through the symbolic world tree: the upper, middle and lower worlds. In my experience, the upper world is the realm of wisdom, guidance and creativity, and often the place where inspiration is found. The middle world is the one where we assert ourselves, and the lower world signifies power and earth energies. To reach the upper world, a shaman needs to move his consciousness up the world tree and through a boundary that indicates the limit of the middle world. From there she has access to the universe of light represented by the sun, the moon and the stars, marked by freedom from the heaviness of the earthbound realm. Perhaps because of their dreamy attribute, I see the border between upper and middle worlds as a layer of clouds. The realm of the upper world is marked by infinity, but the creative energy of the universe can only take unique expression within boundaries, otherwise it becomes lost. From this perspective, clouds represent the thought processes beyond which we have to move to get inspiration, but to establish these ideas, we have to return to the material world where we act. Clouds contain the elements of air and water, indicating that intellect and emotion work together in the creative process. The light or fire on the other side of clouds signifies Source that acquires depth through the individual perception of its contrast with the shadows.

One element that is missing from clouds is earth, which represents the material reality. When it comes to dreaming, the biggest challenge is often how to give structure to our visions in a world ruled by restrictions. Clouds can never be captured, and by the time their substance reaches the earth, their form is lost. The dreamer can, however, plant seeds, and build on what he would like to see grow. When seeds are planted and nurtured under the right conditions, at least some of them will find a way to grow, aided by the sun and the coming down of the clouds. There is a lot that the planter has no control over, and this illustrates that although working with love is necessary, trust is also required. While dreams can reveal something of our connection to the universal mind, the matter that we work with doesn’t truly belong to us, and sometimes it’s best to let the universe decide how and in what way our dreams will come to fruition. The dreamer is an instrument of universal will as much as the entirety of creation is an expression of something we cannot know or understand.

Faith as a Choice

Much of what we learn in any system is based on a reasonable amount of certainty. In life we value security, which depends on certainty. We do certain jobs because we are fairly sure we will be able to survive in that way. We act around people in a way that we know they would find acceptable. We can take for granted that we would need to pay the rent every month, and if we have enough money we will be able to get by. From this perspective, our world is constructed through faith in something, and often the agent that determines our reality is far removed. We can trust that economists, scientists or successful people know how everything works, but when it comes to the everyday experience, most of us have little control over the demands of our modern lifestyle. The effort involved in keeping going serves as a welcome distraction from the need to find answers as to why things are the way they are.

Faith is a central theme in religious and spiritual frameworks. Through these practices, the gaze moves inward and salvation is sought through cultivating a strong and positive character. This can then serve as a counter-agent to those outside forces that affect our well-being in a negative way. In these traditions, doubt is often portrayed as the crippling agent that causes the seeker to deviate from their path. Certainty in what one believes in in this context is an important precursor to personal freedom. In science, faith in what cannot be determined empirically has a bad reputation as it is not conducive to factual knowledge. Probability and argument provide the framework, but certainty and objectivity are still the ideals that are strived for in a quest to gain knowledge. Where there is doubt, it is only considered useful to the extent that it indicates lack of certainty. Even scientists have faith in their methodology, which is intertwined with subjective judgement of whether the knowledge gained is valuable or not.

A lot of motivational speakers I have encountered have highlighted the importance of believing in oneself as a necessary precursor to success. I think it’s true; I have found that if I don’t believe in myself I have almost zero chance of achieving something. But the human psyche is more complex than that. Often belief in oneself is lost through some kind of pain or rejection, or even psychological domination by another. I think a good illustration of the principle is the black consciousness movement in apartheid South Africa, where leaders such as Steve Biko have shown how mass oppression was possible through psychological control. Where self-confidence is lost, it often indicates a wound that needs slow and gradual recovery for an integrated, empowered psyche to emerge.

In all these frameworks, certainty and faith are the cornerstones for building something of value. The question of what the value of doubt is, if there is any value at all, remains. I have often been lost in doubts, and felt worse for it when people who felt very strongly about their spiritual views have reprimanded me for it. I think doubt is necessary as it creates space for enhanced perspective. Where there is blind faith, one can be disillusioned, and where there is absolute belief in anything, it is easy for someone to take advantage of one’s consciousness. History has shown the destructive power of belief in an ideology where people can be led to commit evil deeds without questioning their own actions.

Doubt is not easy to handle, especially in a world where those who are most certain of themselves often emerge as winners regardless of whether or not they are actually right. I think that every seeker of life and its mysteries comes to a point where they feel deeply uncertain about themselves and their understanding of reality. But I think that doubt is as necessary for growth as faith. Doubt provides the opportunity to review our priorities. In that way, we can consciously choose where to apply our efforts according to our own values and principles. The power of faith is illustrated through the placebo effect, and there is a reason why every single therapeutic treatment or medicine has to be tested against a placebo. In medicine, faith in one’s own ability to recover is the one thing that has consistently been proven to be effective.

In a universe where little can be known with absolute certainty, and even then only a small segment of reality, the power of faith to me shows the importance of taking charge of one’s own psyche. When faced with the unknown that is at the heart of important questions such as which path is the right one to choose for one’s life, the creative potential of faith is enormous. In a sea of possibilities, faith is the tool to bring into being the things we love most, and to transcend darkness in our deepest moments of despair. Doubt encourages humility, and also serves as a reminder to investigate different points of view before deciding our stance. Where we cannot be right or certain of everything, faith is the best chance we have of creating the world according to our vision.