Growing Down
by Cherie Martin Franklin

When I first discovered psychosynthesis, I came to love Assagioli's idea of "psychological breathing and feeding." To me it meant being very conscious of what to take into one's being and what not to absorb. Naturally I assumed one would want to breathe in good, nourishing things and stay away from toxins and negativity.

Now, twenty-some years later, my lived experience tells me differently. I recently lead part of a women's spirituality conference. Notes from my journal say it was "awesome, sacred, powerful, moving, magnificent and important for women." I had worked hard preparing for it, and thought I was taking very good care of myself in the process. However, the day after I returned home, I got into a huge fight with my husband, John. As the days went on, things between us got worse. It seemed like our 19-year marriage was unraveling. I experienced intense anger, rage, sadness, and despair. I wanted to go to sleep. Again, from my journal, speaking about our relationship: "What I thought was real, maybe is not at all."

Finally, at the end of a very confusing and painful week, the two of us went out to breakfast and were able to talk about what was happening from a more disidentified place. And during that insightful, compassionate dialogue over blueberry pancakes, it came clear to me that I had been so intent on "bringing in the light" for the conference, that I had neglected the more ordinary aspects of my life. My plants went untended, laundry piled up in the hamper, and my family felt my absence. In the course of this conversation, John reminded me of perhaps the deepest truth I have learned in the last two decades -- that the forces of light and dark will balance each other out, no matter what. And that if I am devoting lots of energy to the light, I better be giving the dark some attention at the same time! I never really understood the old adage -- "Give the Devil its due." I thought it meant acting out and overindulging in illegal substances or activities. But in this moment, I heard it as meaning: find ways to balance the sacred, powerful, beautiful work with something earthy, down and dirty.

So, I came home from breakfast, put on my grubbiest clothes and rubber gloves, and wedged myself into the tiny, neglected bathroom closet and went to work on the musty black mildew that had been growing there in the dark for months. A few hours later, although my body ached, my psyche was more grounded and whole again. Only the following day did I realize that our breakfast talk had happened on the Vernal Equinox -- the time when the light and the darkness are most perfectly in balance with each other.

In-breath, out-breath, light and dark. After enlightenment, the mildew! For me, this lesson is not learned once and for all, but presents itself in ever new and quite unlikely disguises all the time. A few weeks ago I was sitting meditation in a silent five-day retreat -- a gift I give myself twice a year, thinking it will be peaceful and relaxing (ha!). This time, in a silent room full of 50 meditators, the man sitting two feet behind me had a habit of "audible breathing" -- every now and then letting out a loud exhale of (what I imagined to be) hot breath all over my back. As I sat there, hour after hour, in physical pain from the rigors of sitting, and trying to cope with this recurring sound, I was appalled at the visualization that kept repeating itself in my mind, of spinning around, smacking him, and saying "STOP THAT!!!"

Sitting with it day after day, there were times when my whole body shook with annoyance and I got so angry, I cried. Recognizing that the intensity of my reaction did not fit the crime, I began to drop down beneath the anger and look for what was being triggered in me. And in that exploration, I uncovered a hard little place inside that was trying desperately to not ever have to feel "at the effect" of anyone like that ever again. My tears were about not being able to keep that sound from happening, not being able to control this man or anything else, not being able to avoid feeling that vulnerable. And in that uncovering, once I could feel the real pain, my being broke open to life. Afterwards, his breathing was still there, but it didn't find a place to stop in me anymore. It had been the most valuable learning of the retreat.

The Tibetans have a saying: "the poison is the medicine." They also have a meditative breathing practice called Tonglen, in which you breathe in the toxins, the dark, the painful in yourself, in others, in the world (that's right, breathe the darkness in!) and you breathe/radiate out to those who are suffering, compassion, loving kindness, and the Great Peace. This is a new dimension of my understanding of "psychological breathing and feeding" -- breathing in the dark as well as the light.

As I have worked on this newsletter issue on The Shadow, I have come to see that there is a great call for this breathing and feeding in our community, there is new air blowing through the cobwebs of some long unnoticed corners, and there is a refreshing spirit of openness and willingness to look into the darkness. As Didi Firman says in "From the Chair," our young AAP organization is courageous in inviting the shadow so early in its development. The psychosynthesis community has experienced distortions over the years as a result of its shadow-as have the Catholic Church, guru ashrams, Jungian Societies, and any group with a spiritual or psychological orientation. We are all vulnerable to the unconscious acting out of whatever we have "shadowed." It is human to do so, and it is happening all around us, because the shadow is, after all, unconscious. And as Assagioli said, "you can't do anything about something you can't see."

And yet, even as we make it conscious, as Chris Robertson asks, "is [the shadow] something that can be owned? Who would own it? The very ego which was creating it, of course, except that the ego cannot assimilate its own unconscious." This salient point makes me consider the need for disidentifying from the ego and marking off the boundaries of a space that is free of the pushes and pulls and investment of the ego. This is what we have attempted to do in this newsletter-create an open, clear, compassionate space in which we can, as Chris says, "grow down" into the shadow.

The editing of this issue has been a challenging and, at times, delicate process. Much has come towards us-people wanting to tell their stories, wounds from the past that remain unhealed, the desire for communication with those with whom there have been cut-offs. In an effort to honor the ongoing and complex healing process of the psychosynthesis community, Catherine Comuzzi, our Issue Editor, and I have chosen to include articles and stories that present the writers' learnings in a way that is personally responsible and accessible to everyone. We hope you find this excellent and, in many cases, hard-won material, as meaningful as we did.

Working with the shadow is the ongoing work of a lifetime. Thankfully, we have the checks and balances of each other along the way. Our next newsletter issue will be on Healing, and we welcome your responses.

With an open heart, Cher


--- from Psychosynthesis Community News
Volume 3, Number 1, Spring 1998
Copyright© 2007 - Association for the Advancement of Psychosynthesis - All rights reserved.
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