Creative Chaos
Page 4
What is desire? The invitation of beauty? The attraction of value? The magnetism of meaning? The intrigue of what is other? The excitement of new possibilities? The promise of being, of fulfillment? But why are we intrigued by beauty, attracted to value … why do we desire?
All these words - invitation, attraction, magnetism, intrigue, promise - assume some form of distance. In the pre-conscious paradise of undifferentiated union, there can be no desire, for there is no distance where there is no distinction. It is the very space between myself and the other that makes the movement of desire possible. Desire both affirms the distance and bridges it. To desire is to affirm a difference between myself and what is not self. There is no ‘I want’ if there is no sense of ‘I.’ But neither can there be a sense of distinction without the space created by desire. To be clear, after the development of a distinct self, desire can be both conscious and unconscious.
Desire forms in the space between reality as it is, and reality as it could be. Humans are not satisfied with perceiving reality as it is. We desire meaning. And in the pursuit of meaning a very powerful capacity develops to understand reality, not as something static, but as a movement that comes from the past and flows into the future. Consciousness of time gives us access to the logic of cause and effect and forms the basis of story-telling. It enables us to learn from the past, to accumulate knowledge and to anticipate the future. It opens up our understanding to the possibilities of the future.
In the story of Jacob and Esau, it is Jacob that displays this awareness of the future more keenly. It is the conscious part of us that is more aware of the logic of cause and effect, calculating and reasoning, to make a desirable future more likely. It is the independent self that takes control of the story and constructs a framework of interpretation - a tent in which he feels secure. The unconscious also generates meaning but in a more loose and unstructured way. It is less likely to settle on a definitive meaning and more likely to repetitively and imaginatively suggest many possible meanings. Think of dreams as an example.
Narrative Creation of Self
I am formed in a sequence of events. A multitude of events converges in my existence. But far from being neutral in this sequence of events, I create the meaning of these events. I am not simply the product of the events that happen to me, I am the interpretation of these events. Narrative both creates and preserves the meaning of these events. How does one make sense of all these relationships? This question opens up the inner story of my life events. With every new experience, the skill of constructing a narrative grows. Over time a fairly reliable pattern emerges, a structure by which all new experiences are measured. Lessons from past experiences inform our expectations. As expectations are met according to our predictions, the interpretive structure is affirmed and the story gains confidence. Jacob is constructing a dwelling for himself in the midst of the chaotic wilderness. His voice is growing more prominent. The multiple influences that produce the unified ‘I’ become overly reliant on the influence of Jacob - the calculated, reasonable and civilized voice. Esau is still around, but we aren’t sure where he is or what he is up to.
Within much of psychology and philosophy, this narrative-self or autobiographical self is seen as the very process by which self is constructed. Or let me say it another way: to a large extent, it is the process of meaning-making that is self. From our earliest moments of consciousness, we search for meaning. We wonder how events are connected. What is the common denominator? What gives significance to our memories? In this place of uncertainty, it seems that order will bring security and the best way of ordering events is to make them part of a story. Soon we discover there is nothing more central to our memories than the self that remembers them. There is nothing more common to my experiences than the ‘I’ that experiences them. And so, in these early stages of self-formation, I find my self in my story. The self, constructed by narrative, naturally becomes protective of the story that birthed it and continues to sustain it. If you find your self in your story, you often find your security in being right about your story. The pursuit of certitude is an early and necessary part of self-development. In this process, we lose touch with our ground, with our Esau. The imaginative fades as structured reasoning become more important. Jacob clears a space and constructs his tent. Here, within the space he controls, he can live a simple life. The unconscious is undermined for the most part as the newly formed self insists on its priority.
Narrative Identity & Illusion
As Jacob continues to carve out his own identity, he deceives his father to acquire Esau’s birthright blessing. With the help of Rebekah, he prepares the kind of meaty dish his father loves. He also dresses in Esau’s clothes and puts the hairy skins of the animals they just slaughtered on his hands. This is an elaborate scheme of deception.
Deception is only a possibility when a sense of a separate self has sufficiently developed. There is a stage when young children give us the most honest and often comical answers. But soon after they learn a new skill. Only when one perceives separation between self and others, does deception become an option. One may walk into the kitchen, see the cookie jar on its side and half-empty, and the toddlers with crumbs all over themselves. But when one asks: “Did you eat the cookies?” They shake their heads in denial while hiding the half-eaten cookies behind their backs. Deception indicates a significant development in self-consciousness.
It is also during this development that questions about identity become more prominent. When Jacob takes the dish to his father, Isaac asks: “Who are you, my son?” And Jacob said to his father, “I am Esau your firstborn ” (Genesis 27:18-19 RA).
It is the pursuit of meaning and identity that leads to the rise and dominance of the conscious self. Yet the stories we tell ourselves and others are not always as simple as they seem. The haunting question: “Who are you, my son? ” is often answered deceitfully. The conscious insists on being in control of the narrative it constructs, even if it is not entirely truthful. In this insistence on its own priority, the conscious becomes more rigid in what is allowed to become part of its story. The messages and experiences that do not fit into its structure of interpretation are suppressed. Who are you, my son? Are you indeed who you profess to be? Are you as simple as the story you’ve been telling yourself and others? The unconscious questions the validity and certainty of our conscious narratives.
At this stage, the conflict between Jacob and Esau comes to a climax. Whatever friendly relationship existed before will now give way to open rivalry. It is not so much the exchange that took place, when Esau sold his birthright, as the deceptiveness by which Jacob now assumes Esau’s identity that causes conflict. When I become overly confident in my self-knowledge, presuming to have a firm grasp on my identity to the extent that I deny the presence of this mysterious other, an unhealthy conflict begins to brew. The unconscious does not simply accept the loss of its identity. The desires, messages, and experiences it wants to express will find utterance even if no room is found for it in the conscious story.
The relationship between Jacob and Esau comes to a complete breakdown and Jacob flees to a distant land because of his fear of Esau. There comes a stage in the development of consciousness where the logical is chosen above the intuitive and calculated reasoning takes dominance over the imaginative in such a way that a real alienation takes place between the conscious and the unconscious. It’s a time during which we lose touch with our core … yet it is a necessary stage.
Every metaphor has its limits, so I won’t try and work through every detail of the Jacob and Esau story. However, two more events are significant in unraveling this relationship.
Reconciliation
Initially, the conscious self has to establish itself and guard against being absorbed into the unconscious again. Consequently, the unconscious has to recede. Despite this early and necessary conflict, the relationship continues to develop. For a person to be whole, this internal relationship must be reconciled.
Jacob constructed a narrative-identity saying: “I am Esau” and with this took the birthright and priority of Esau. Despite this deception, he is blessed by his father. Yet this confusion of identity continues to haunt him until it comes to a climax in Beth-el. The hidden other erupts in a dream in which heaven and earth are bridged. It is divine messengers who bring his fragmented interior into meaningful relation.
He awakes and exclaims: Surely God is in this place and I, I did not know.
- Genesis 28:16
It is exactly in this unknown other, this I, I did not know, that God is present. (Zohar translates it: God is in this I, I did not know.) This whole encounter happens within the dream, the unconscious, but spills over into consciousness.
The unconscious is not necessarily a place of deep, dark secrets. Rather, its deep chaos can be the infinite source of new meaning as we allow the spirit of God to hover over it and draw out the beauty that is possible for it. There is no fear in love (1 John 4:18). Fear deforms the unconscious signifiers into the worst conclusions. But in the presence of the God who is love, something new is possible. When love becomes the environment within which new meaning is created, God is found within this I, I did not know.
It is after this encounter that reconciliation between Jacob and Esau becomes possible. It is also significant that the night before Jacob is reconciled with Esau, he has an encounter with God in which his name is changed. No longer would he be known as Jacob the deceiver but as Israel - one who has wrestled with God and prevailed. For me to move out of the realm of self-deception, I have to embrace this other part of me, this chaotic depth, this unordered, uninterpreted abyss. At first, Jacob is filled with fear at the very thought of meeting Esau again, but when they finally meet “Esau ran to meet him and embraced him and fell upon his neck and kissed him, and they wept ” (Genesis 33:4).
There is beauty and truth in both the conscious and unconscious. The one is not a false self and the other a true self. Both are essential in the conversation that makes us who we are. When one is given undue preference we become less than what we could be. Ultimately the intuitions of the unconscious can be more weighty by appropriating the logic of the conscious, and the conscious self can experience the wholeness and wonder of the unconscious without having to abandon its rationality. Within this conversational matrix, the creation of meaning is much richer.
As we embark on an exploration of the Genesis texts and the many underlying narratives that contributed to these texts, I pray that we would once again discover the inherent wisdom of the unconscious. The hope is that both the logic of the conscious and the enigmatic symbols of the unconscious would become visible in these texts. Recognizing these dimensions will enable us to form new meaning and create new beauty.
Endnotes
1 Zornberg, Avivah Gottlieb. The Murmuring Deep (pp. 222-223). Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.
2 https://www.mimesis.academy
3 including Freud, Lacan, Laplanche. For an introduction to the double inscription view see: https://www.lacanonline.com/2017/04/whats-so-unconscious-about-the-unconscious/
4 Kegan, Robert. The Evolving Self: Problem and Process in Human Development . Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1982.
Chapter three
The Wisdom of the Unconscious
When stories first began they were alive and filled with wonder - not written on paper or stone but performed around tribal campfires where men and women inscribed them on the hearts of their children. These tales were not obsessed with facts, for the beauty and truth they desired to communicate had to be remembered. And it was only the most fantastic, the most captivating stories, that survived to the next generation. When, eventually, the skill of the written text was invented and these narratives were transcribed, much of what made them alive was lost. Yet, these texts preserved something of the wonder that was present in the original play.
These early forms of story-telling reoccur in the development of every child. The first pictures my children drew might not have been the best examples of refined art, but they carried a profound depth of meaning. The simple lines that represented a brother and sister holding hands spoke of a relationship of trust that no amount of artistic education could portray more honestly. At this stage of child development, the unconscious is less restrained. Impressions and feelings flowed without much filtering. I did not try to correct the perspective or discipline them for not using the correct technique. How inappropriate that would have been! No, I simply enjoyed the beauty of the truth they tried to portray. Similarly, God allows his kids to draw their pictures without needing to correct them at every opportunity. We have much to learn from the symbols of the unconscious. A wealth of wisdom and meaning lies hidden here.
Humanity in their infancy drew similar pictures and told fantastic stories. Today we refer to this genre of narrative as myth. Myth might well be likened to a different musical instrument, played according to its own rules, its own musical score. If we could only recognize this unique sound, we might again hear a much richer symphony. In these early stages of human development, the imaginary is more prominent than the reasonable; the untamed voice of Esau takes priority. This was a time in which humans were not as certain as they are today about what things meant, and consequently, many imaginative interpretations could be offered. The sun was more than a ball of chemical explosions, it was the blazing garment of God. The clouds were more than vapors of waters, they were heavenly chariots. Some of these poetic images were preserved in Scripture as well and they are as captivating today as when they first appeared (See Psalm 104). Yes, these creative interpretations may not be scientifically accurate, but they preserve an honesty and depth of meaning we can still benefit from.
Many find great value and meaning in the Genesis origin texts. But where and how were these stories birthed? If we could find the subtext, an insight into the dramas that played out around campfires long before these ideas were written down, that would add a whole new dimension to our understanding. What magical gardens and fantastic creatures flowed from the tongues of our ancient ancestors before they found their way onto papyrus scrolls? These are the unconscious texts over which the Scriptures were written. If we can trace their development, then we’ll come closer to once again experiencing the astounding wisdom of the unconscious.
The sequence of the chapters in this book will follow the sequence in which these stories developed, starting with the most ancient myths that have similar symbolism to the Genesis texts, and then moving onto Genesis 2 and 3 - also known as the Yahwist creation accounts. It has long been recognized that the Bible consists of many documents written by many authors over an extended period of time. 1 The creation account beginning in Genesis 2:4 pre-dates Genesis 1. The later addition of Genesis 1-2:4, which most scholars see as a revision done by what is known as the Priestly Source, dramatically reframes the story. 2
The Symbolism of Original Union
The earliest stories humans told, from various cultures that had no physical contact with one another, contain remarkably similar symbols. Why would diverse and independent groups use similar symbolism to communicate their ideas? Was it similar events that gave rise to similar stories as the anthropologist and literary critic René Girard suggests or was it similar states of consciousness that produced similar symbols as some psychologists would argue? 3
We’ll first consider the psychological perspective that distinct states of consciousness produce specific symbols. The development of every child mirrors the evolution of the human race. In the same way every human develops from a pre-conscio
us ‘baby’ into a self-conscious person, humanity as a whole also evolved through different stages of consciousness. Each one of these stages produces symbols that portray the new realities assimilated by that stage of consciousness. We’ll also consider the Girardian perspective in later chapters as we build multiple layers of meaning.
In the Indian Upanishads text, the egg symbolizes the process by which non-being becomes being. In parts of Africa the Calabash, a woody shell, is used to imagine the original container of all. The Chinese Wu Chi is the empty circle. It symbolizes everything before the beginning, prior to process and all other symbols; before time, before sequence, before anything finite. It is the eternal present and perfect infinity. The T’ai Chi is another circular symbol, but it contains all contradictions in one, light and dark, male and female, etc.,
The circle is an image of the undivided consciousness, before a sense of self is formed. There is no difference between the top and the bottom, between the left or the right of a circle. It also has no beginning nor end, and so represents a complete whole that encompasses all. The circular symbol developed into associated symbols such as the womb, the enclosed garden, and the circular serpent. These images of origin capture a form of paradise in which the divine is at rest.
Prior to the development of the conscious, all is one. The ego still lies dormant in this original bliss. The sequence of time and the logic of cause and effect play no role in this infinite and timeless realm. Here there is no contradiction, no separation, no conflict, no hierarchy, and no value system. The lion and the lamb lie side by side in peace. The beginning and the end meet; the alpha and omega are one.