Getting Stuck in Archetypal Roles

We rarely know that archetypes exist unless something happens to activate one. Even then, most people do not understand what has been activated or what it means. An “archetype” can perhaps best be understood as an energy-field within the psyche. It is a "field" with no content—in other words, it comes without any images or emotions. It is a very powerful energy-pattern, however, and if a specific image or emotion enters its range and adequately matches its abstract structure, the archetypal field will grab onto that content and “fix” it into place as an expression of that archetype.

Sometimes this process is culturally specific—in India, for example, Kali might represent the Divine Mother archetype, while in the West the Virgin Mary might embody that same role. But archetypal and karmic patterns are often intricately interwoven, which means that some of the archetypes in an individual psyche may carry an intense karmic “charge.” Thus the Divine Mother archetype for some individuals might be embodied by a living woman known to them from earlier lives—a spiritual teacher, perhaps, or a loving relative.

There are countless archetypes within the psyche. Greek and Roman deities are the most familiar representations of them in the West. This does not mean that these deities are archetypes in and of themselves. It only means that they carry a power or energy that allows them to function as “content” to otherwise contentless archetypes. The Roman war god Mars, in other words, is not an archetype, but he represents what the warrior archetype is all about. Unfortunately, for several thousand years, this archetype has been attracting highly addictive contents. Once this archetype is activated within the psyche, the warrior's path may exert such an intense fascination that everything else pales around it. We no longer worship Mars, of course, but the reincarnations of many of Rome's finest are with us still and any sufficiently charismatic general might easily carry an archetypal “charge” strong enough to persuade his troops to follow him even into the most hopeless of battles. Such warriors die, tend to be swiftly re-born, and fifteen to twenty years later they are likely to be serving as warriors all over again—unless circumstances allow for the intervention of a more benign archetype.

Venus also is not an archetype but she shows us what the Lover archetype is all about—if a Venus-like beautiful woman activates this archetype within us, we may experience the heights of bliss but also the depths of folly. Her relationship with Mars creates special psychological difficulties.

Hera and Zeus are not archetypes either but we can understand the Royal Leadership archetype by studying how they use and abuse power; if something activates this archetype within our psyches, we may find ourselves playing out their mistakes before we realize what is happening.

The Greek myth of Persephone models for us the anguish of the Raped Maiden archetype just as her mother Demeter reveals the depths of the Sorrowing Mother archetype. Many women who have experienced firsthand either or both of these realms find profound consolation in the stories surrounding these two goddesses, for they offer a way through horror to the promise of a mysterious healing source within the psyche.

The twenty-two cards of the Tarot's Greater Arcana are another source that provides examples of what goes on behind the scenes in the underlying archetypes we recognize in the images of the Magician, the High Priestess, the Emperor, the Empress, the Hermit, Death, the Devil, the Hierophant, the Lovers, and so forth. Like all contentless archetypes, they are value-neutral: they can nurture us and give us great gifts of wisdom and insight, but if we identify too strongly with any of them, we can also wind up being possessed. Honoring one to the exclusion of the others is unwise. Similarly, a careless dishonoring of any of them is unwise. The patterns each of them represent are hard-wired into our psyches and can no more be dislodged than our blood vessels or neural nets.

As mentioned in the above section, “one-sidedness” is the clearest sign that one has been gripped by an archetypal energy, or role, with which one was probably over-identified in the past. We all know insecure comedians who are always “on”; cloyingly charming Southern Belles; smug fundamentalists who are unrelentingly “right”; and males who are defined solely by their arrogant machismo. These people are so one-sided that they seem like caricatures. They are so caught up in a single role that it is difficult to relate to them on a human level.

Here are a few other examples of what getting caught in archetypal energy might look like...

A male who refuses to mature is called a Peter Pan, or puer (an Eternal Boy). Part of this refusal to mature is cultural, for the West worships youth, but when such a trait manifests in an individual male, it could come from a life in which he died young and never had a chance to grow up. In later lives, he might cut off his psychological maturation at that same point. This becomes his way of holding onto a life he never got to live. Unfortunately, the aging Peter Pan (or what I call a "wrinkled puer"), does not get to live either—his life becomes a stale mockery of youth.

Imperious types, whether male or female, express the Emperor/Empress role, which could stem either from wishful thinking or from an actual royal life that needs to be released in order for them to more gracefully rejoin the human race. These are the people who say “You're either with me or against me.” They expect their relatives and other minions always to agree with them, praise them, and flutter around them. They become quite unpleasant, even dangerous, when this does not happen. The “charge” of the archetypal energy they carry is often quite capable of constellating a disaster or crisis designed to keep them in power. Along the way, they often retreat into psychological “bubbles” and disown disobedient family and friends.

The "saintly" archetypes such as teacher, healer, and priest-minister-rabbi-guru are notoriously easy to get caught in. These can be beautiful, nurturing, and necessary roles, but if we get so trapped in them that we have no life of our own—and our mates (like C.G. Jung's wife) are forced to manifest our own unexplored shadow sides by becoming increasingly bitter and bitchy—then we need to look at those earlier lifetimes where we first got trapped, and, again, as with Emperor/Empress, find ways to rejoin the human race.

If thinking of archetypes as force-fields seems too abstract, another analogy would be to think of the psyche, first, as a vast, interdimensional ocean mysteriously held within the “leather bag” of the brain (actually, psyche isn't limited to the brain—it’s throughout the body, but it’s simpler to think of it as living in the brain). Within that ocean are archetypes—think of them as a patterned potential for “riptides.” That potential may only rarely be activated.

Let’s use the example of a riptide for the Hermit archetype. This is a very valuable and healing archetype but it isn't currently functioning in as widespread a manner as the Warrior or Lover archetypes. If you read the luminous writings or Thoreau or the Trappist monk, Thomas Merton, you may be deeply impressed with the value of living in a solitary hermitage and communing with nature or a chosen deity. This may lead you to respect the Hermit archetype but it doesn't necessarily mean it will be activated in your own life.

The riptide potential of this archetype will only be activated if the archetype is interwoven with your own karmic patterns. This might involve a deep longing for such a life born in a past life. More likely, it will emerge from your actual experiences lived as a hermit in earlier lives. Then, it is as if a riptide reaches out of nowhere, capturing the emotions, memories, and images, and gripping you so strongly that you leave everything behind and go off to live in the wilderness. Being gripped by an archetype can be exhilarating and blissful. One can be a hermit and reach immense psychological depth and maturity. In this case, the karmic activation of that riptide was your destiny and highest good.

But this can be very tricky. If you, in your earlier hermit lives, already fully experienced the demands, challenges, and rewards of that life, then to return to being a hermit would be at best, nostalgia, and at worst, an escape. If the choice is not born from a genuine desire for growth, the archetypal energies become destructive. You then lose your footing, your sense of humor, and your psychological flexibility. Although you may hide this from others, even from yourself, you will become increasingly rigid, cold, and misanthropic.

Bottom line: any time we are caught up in an outgrown archetype, no matter how compassionate and caring it might seem on the surface, it makes us one-sided and our lives become obsessive. When this happens, the root of the problem probably lies in an earlier lifetime where we identified too strongly with the archetypal energy of a given role.

In such circumstances, exploring our own past lives, not only to find the obsessive root, but also to explore the wide range of alternate roles belonging to our own karmic palette, is highly recommended. Other options include reaching out to alternate archetypal energies and "wooing" them by taking up new interests and widening our circle of friends to include those who have already mastered “roles” we need for our own completion.

For psychic health, one needs to dance with, or at least be on speaking terms with, a wide variety of archetypes. To overly identify with one is a clue that one is stuck and unable to grow except in that one direction, until ultimately one topples over. Just as the human heart rate is healthiest when it is flexible and variable (it is locked into a rigid, steady beat only when death nears), so too the body and psyche need to embrace many flexible, variable roles.

Why Bother to Explore Past Lives?

If we have had past lives, we have also obviously had past deaths. This fact is a major reason people are interested in exploring their past lives—it places the inevitability of death in a much larger context and makes it far less fearsome. It also gives us the hope that when those we love die—whether a family member, a close friend, or a beloved pet—we will meet them again and once more share the joys and sorrows of life. We will continue growing together, laughing, being kind to one another, fighting, making up, exploring all the nuances of possible relationships.

People may also wish to explore past lives to re-discover skills they once had, for these can often be reactivated and become a new line of work, or a cherished hobby. Looking into the past for root causes of illness or unexplained fears is another important reason for past life work.

Next to reducing the terror of death, however, the most frequent reason people desire to explore past lives is to understand relationships better. Close, loving relationships never happen by accident—they emerge out of centuries of experience with that other soul. The same can be said of difficult, painful relationships—these too always have a long history. Knowing that history can help us to better understand the deeper issues, allowing either for a long overdue truce or for a permanent “divorce” if the relationship is too toxic to be salvaged, at least in this current lifetime. Knowing the history of the animosity gives us the clarity and distance to see the wisest course of action. That deeper context allows our choices to come from wisdom, not anger or despair.

Perhaps the greatest benefit to be derived from exploring past lives comes from a growing sense of serenity and trust in the process. There is often great pain and confusion in our lives and we may often feel our lives are meaningless. But when one explores the complex and often wondrous patterns in the past, things begin to fall into place and one slowly understands that a larger mystery is unfolding. As British playwright Christopher Fry wrote in his The Dark is Light Enough:

Editor’s Afterword

Debra and I (Joel) have both experienced a past-life regression with Dr. Jenks and found the experience enlightening and beneficial. We discovered some of the reasons we had been having conflict and were able to bring a better sense of balance to our relationship and more direction to our work together as a result.

We would be glad to entertain discussion about this article, past-lives or archetypal patterns in general, or related subjects on the SCS Discussion List as soon as the relevant software is functioning properly. I will post a notice to that effect here....