In Jungian psychology, it is held that when a person has an accumulation of 'unlived life', this can give rise to a great deal of suffering during the later stages of adulthood. I would say the primary reason why so much life remains unlived is that we are often unable or unwilling to cross the threshold of fear that presents itself whenever we are required to take a leap towards our own unfulfilled destiny. It is what Joseph Campbell termed 'the refusal of the call to adventure', and when the call has been refused, it leaves a residue of emptiness, nostalgia or regret in the heart.
An authentic life that has been fully lived leaves a different kind of imprint on the psyche, and on the body also. A certain kind of presence develops that is palpable, and it evokes a degree of respect, admiration or even reverence when people encounter it. You feel refreshed and inspired from being around such a person, without necessarily knowing what it is on a conscious level that makes them so attractive.
In a culture that craves the 'quick fix' and worships celebrities for no other reason than their public image, it is especially valuable to have at least one or two people in your life who embody something more substantial. My friend Beth Tyers, who passed away in December, was such a person in my life, and in the lives of many others. Beth had considerable skill as a practitioner, but it was the quality of her presence that touched those of us who knew her more than anything else. Many people took remedies and essences that Beth prescribed for them, but quite a few came to realize that it was mostly her own essence that conveyed the healing energy, and this is something that takes considerable effort to achieve.
To live a full and authentic life does not mean avoiding pain, or having a life that is free of struggle or difficulty. Indeed, it is often the fear of pain and the endless pursuit of happiness that creates a one-sidedness and a longing for something richer. What brings depth, wisdom and strength of character is when a person accepts and embraces the struggles and traumas of their life, and manages to transmute them into something finer. Through a kind of spiritual alchemy, the sadness and loss that once encrusted the heart becomes the healing agent that opens it, just as the fear that once brought isolation and separation can, when transmuted, bring forth the courage to relate and to connect with ever-deepening intimacy.
Beth was such a treasure in my life precisely because she was able to be both serious and irreverent, gentle and firm, courageous and fearful. We shared tears and laughter in more or less equal measure and this, to me, is what a full human life consists of. The beauty of it is that every single one of us already has within us the unique blend of ingredients we need to bring us to wholeness, but it is left for us to make full use of what we've been given. And, crucially, we must be willing to embrace the shadow side of ourselves, so that nothing is excluded or denied.
According to Jung, and he was drawing directly from the alchemic tradition, the gold is to be found in the dark places which, psychologically speaking means the wounded places, the hurt places, the scary places we would rather stay away from. Of course, being wounded by life brings no guarantee in itself that inner strengths will develop. They may or may not, and that largely depends on the attitude we hold.
Once you open to the possibility that these wounds contain the seeds of the vast potentialities within you, then the journey to healing and wholeness has begun। It may still be a long and at times difficult path to tread, but you know in your heart that there is no turning back. And it is reassuring to remember that those, like Beth, who inspired you through their example of a life well-lived, did so because they too passed along the same route, each in their own way.
by Ian Watson
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