In our profession life, as well as our non-profession life, the psychological process of erotic transference and countertransference is ever present guiding or manipulating not only our lives but those others for whom we have sensuous feelings.

from "A View from the Bridge: Where Do We Go from Here"
Inter-Regional Society of Jungian Analysts
Boulder, Colorado, October 18-21, 2000

Like a shade this topic haunts us. The more we try to deny or repress it, a shadowy cloak surrounds us. Or conversely, not unlike the Inquisition, witch hunts or a modern day Kenneth Starr investigation, our conscious righteous indignation rigidly controls the letter of the law—not the spirit of the law—and the unconscious grows darker. In our profession life, as well as our non-profession life, the psychological process of erotic transference and countertransference is ever present guiding or manipulating not only our lives but those others for whom we have sensuous feelings. And thank God that these emotions are there! These emotions are indicators that an aspect of the unconscious in analysand and analyst alike have been touched and that there is an analytical bond. Jung in his lengthy first meeting with Freud writes that Freud "asked him what he thought of the transference [phenomenon]. [Jung] responded with deep conviction, 'that it is the alpha and omega of the analytic method.' whereon Freud responded, 'Then you have grasped the main thing.'" (1) Regardless of how uncomfortable our feelings may be when dealing with transference/countertransference issues, we cannot discount their importance. How we deal with these enlivened stirrings deep within, how we consciously choose to act or unconsciously react to the quickening or the thrilling power of erotic sensations is that which I wish to address this morning. First I would like to recount some of what Jung and others wrote about this issue, and second, recall some myths which may amplify a destructive outcome of an erotic transference and countertransference. In closing I will present other myths and stories which hopefully indicate a positive resolution.

In his Introductory Lectures, Freud writes, "The decisive part of work is achieved by creating the patient's relation to the doctor—in the 'transference'—new editions of the old conflicts: in these the patient would like to behave in the same way as he did in the past...In place of the patient's true illness there appears the artificially constructed transference illness, in place of the various unreal objects of his libido there appears a single, and once more imaginary object in the person of the doctor." (2) Jung takes exception to this, in part, adding that it is doubtful that transference is always constructed artificially, since it is a phenomenon that can take place quite apart from any analytic procedure and occurs naturally in any intimate human relationship which function as helpful or disturbing factors. (3)

Jung writes, "Careful analysis of the transference phenomenon yields an extremely complicated picture with such startlingly pronounced features that we are often tempted to pick out one of them as the most important and then exclaim by way of explanation, 'Of course, it's nothing but...' I'm referring chiefly to the erotic or sexual aspects of transference fantasies. The existence of this aspect is undesirable, but it is not always the only one and not only the essential one. Another is the will to power (described by Adler) which proves to be coexistent with sexuality and is often very difficult to make out which of the two predominates. These two aspects alone offer sufficient grounds for a paralyzing conflict". (4)

Jung continues by explaining, " The transference, however, alters the psychological stature of the doctor, though this is at first imperceptible to him. He too becomes affected, and has as much difficulty in distinguishing between the patient and what has taken possession of him as has the patient himself." (5) (Possession—he writes elsewhere, "The word 'possession' describes this state in a way that could hardly be bettered." (6) He equates it with what the primitives' belief to be as 'loss of soul.') "Even the most experienced psychotherapist will discover again and again that he is caught up in a bond, a combination resting on mutual unconsciousness. And though he may believe himself to be in possession of all the necessary knowledge concerning the constellated archetypes, he will in the end come to realize that there are very many things indeed of which his academic knowledge never dreamed..." (7) If the analyst fails to be conscious of the same sufferings within himself/herself and places the total responsibility on the analysand, dismissing his or her participation (albeit unconscious) as "nothing but the transference..."then the effort is lost. Jung also writes, "But life cannot be mastered with theories, and just as the cure of neurosis is not, ultimately, a mere question of therapeutic skill, but is a moral achievement, so too is the solution of problems thrown up by the transference...The treatment of the transference reveals in a pitiless light what the healing agent really is: it is the degree to which the analyst himself can cope with his own psychic problems." (8) In the dialectic process the analyst examines emotional involvement, probing the silent questions: Wherein lies my wantonness, my neediness? How do I invite such a transference? "For two personalities to meet is like mixing two different chemical substances: if there is any combination at all, both are transformed. It is futile for the doctor to shield himself from the influence of the patient and to surround himself with a smoke-screen of fatherly and professional authority. By so doing he only denies himself the use of a highly important organ of information," (9) as Jung explains.

In the course of analysis when a strong transference develops if the analyst throws up this smoke-screen becoming oblivious to interaction in the psychic field, she or he is void of influence of other i.e. the call to search within oneself, one's complexes, one's tender wounds, and their resulting feeling tones. So insulated by 'fatherly [or motherly] authority' the analyst is overly endowed with power, beheld as the wise one, the one with absolute authority. The effect being the lesser in power gives an even greater importance to the one in power; and thus perceived through projection as omnipotent, larger than life, the mana personality living in the realm of the gods. Such a situation opens the door for ego consciousness of the analyst to become overwhelmed by a surge of constellated archetypal force to the extent that he/she may, in the countertransference, easily identify with a sense of omnipotence and limitless boundaries. The externalizing or acting out by the analyst caught in such inflation brings catastrophic results. Even the gods bring to ruin that which they touch as we find in the myth of the god Apollo.

Although Apollo was the god of reason, rationality, clarity and light, he lacked an inter-relationship with the feminine. He lacked the ability to see his inferior or interior aspect. Many myths concerning this god recount his pursuit of the beautiful, youthful feminine—that which would not only delight him but allow him to possess that missing component. In his aggressive chase after the nymph Daphne, as beautiful as she was innocent, the outcome was disastrous. When Apollo's subtle seduction was to no avail, he attempted to ravish her. Daphne's only recourse was to flee. Apollo shouts after her: "Stay, daughter of Peneus; I am not a foe. Do not fly from me as a lamb flees the wolf, or a dove the hawk. It is for love I pursue you. You make me miserable, for fear you should fall and hurt yourself on the stones, and I should be the cause. Pray run slower, and I will follow slower. I am no clown, no rude peasant. Jupiter is my father, and I am lord of Delphos and Tenedos, and know all things, present and future. I am the god of song and the lyre. My arrows fly true to the mark; but, alas! an arrow more fatal than mine has pierced my heart! I am the god of medicine, and know the virtues of all healing plants. Alas! I suffer a malady that no balm can cure!" (10)

Ever so fearful, Daphne continues her flight, but as her strength fails, she calls to father Peneus, "Help me, Peneus! Open the earth to enclose me, or change my form which has brought me into this danger!" And we know according to the myth, her feet become roots, her arms branches and her flowing hair the leaves of the laurel tree. Indeed her form has changed into something, although beautiful, wooden. As wooden as one feels without emotionality.

In another version of the myth, Daphne calls on the Gaia to rescue her. The goddess does so by opening the earth to swallow her. She is saved only by escaping to the unconscious. Contrary to a hopeful outcome of an analysis in allowing unconscious contents to safely become more conscious, we could say in such a pursuit, the very material that could prove helpful was only repressed to a greater extent.

So as not to appear sexist, there are also myths that relate ruinous outcomes in a gender reverse situation. The goddess desires the handsome, youthful yet naïve shepherd and pursues him in a not so subtle seduction. We learn of Isthtar's treatment of those she enchanted and of their final degradation from Gilgamesh. Ishthar was enamored with Gilgamesh and speaks to him:

"Come marry me, Gilgamesh! You will be my husband, and I will be your wife. I will harness for you a jeweled and golden chariot, with golden wheels and brass horns. Storm demons will be your mighty steeds and will pull your chariot. The fragrance of cedar will greet you when you enter our house. Kings, princes, and nobles all will bow before you., kiss your feet, and bring you the fruits of the plains and the hills as tribute. Even the mountains and the plains will pay tribute to you. Your goats will give birth to triplets, your sheep to twins. Your colts will have the strength of burden bearing mules. The horses that pull your chariot will be famous racers. The ox that pulls your plow will have no equal."(In other words, "Honey, I have every thing you could possibly want.")

But Gilgamesh has her number and he is quick to remind her:

"Why should I marry you? You have harmed everyone you have ever loved! Listen, for I am happy to list your lovers for you. You loved the shepherd Tummuz when you were young, but you left him and caused him to weep year after year. You struck the spotted shepherd-bird that you loved and broke his wing. Now year after year, he stays in the orchards and cries. My wing! My wing! Then you loved a stallion that was famous in war. First you whipped and spurred him into galloping twenty-one miles, and then you made him drink muddy water, causing him to die! His mother still weeps for him. Then you loved the herdsman who place piles of ash-cakes at your feet, and every day he killed the finest of his goats for your pleasure. You rewarded his love by striking him and turning him into a wolf! His own shepherd boys drove him away from the flocks and his dogs would bite into his legs. Then you loved your father's gardener of the palm trees. Every day he brought you baskets of ripe dates for your table. You turned him into a mole and buried him in the earth where he cannot move either up or down..." (11)

Abandonment, broken soaring spirit wings, the wondrous libido, one's horsepower killed by sullied waters, ravenous wolves, underground moles blind to the light of consciousness! This is not the kind of transformation one would hope for in an analytic situation. The "love", if such a possession could be called, was for the edification of the powerful deity only.

The story has ramifications in the analytic situation.. Innana was very blatant in her expressions of desire; however, the desire of the analyst may present itself in subtle ways: a fascination with the case, a lighter step on the day of the appointment waiting for that hour to arrive, a splash of after-shave or dab of perfume, a sexy sweater, a seductive pose or racy innuendoes. These are red flags that our unexamined unconscious material is staging an entrapment with unspoken promises no less enticing than Innana's. But unlike Gilgamesh, the analysand, or the training candidate in supervision, or the one whose work is being reviewed or examined may not be so quick to see what is happening. The unconscious message to the analysand translates into one of ultimate approval and desirability—ego strokes. Nevertheless, it is a psychological entrapment and for the edification of the analyst, the one in power. In and of itself, the erotic transference and countertransference is not a bad thing rather a useful tool when examined consciously—when we heed our red flags. It is a natural phenomenon of psyche, the soul's longing to unite with the "internal other." When one's ego desires over ride psyche's movement, externalizing—acting out—is when the psychological process is aborted. The new life of soul's search remains unborn.

It is not surprising that we find the same leitmotif in the modern day best seller explosion of the mystical and magical Harry Potter books. Author J.K. Rowling, in Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, names the prison guards "Dementors." (clever name that we can read in both senses—one who is demented or the opposite of a mentor.) She describes these Dementors as a "face completely hidden beneath the hood. There was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, shiny-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water... And the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath as though it was trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings...An intense cold swept over them all. Harry felt his own breath catch in his chest. The cold went deeper than his skin. It was inside his chest, it was inside his very heart." (12) The author continues to explain how the Dementors accomplish their deadly deeds. Harry asks what's under the Dementor's hood and the wise and kindly professor Lupin replies:

"Hummm...well, the only people who really know are in no condition to tell us. You see, the Dementor lowers its hood only to use the last and worst weapon."

"How's that?" [asked Harry]

"They call it the Dementor's Kiss,"said Lupin..." It's what Dementors do to those they wish to destroy utterly. I suppose there must be some kind of mouth under there, because they clamp their jaws upon the mouth of the victim and...and suck out his soul."

"What—they kill—?"

"Oh, no," said Lupin. "Much worse than that. You can exist without your soul, you know, as long as your brain and heart are still working. But you'll have no sense of self anymore, no memory, no anything...You'll just—exist. As an empty shell." (13)

Admittedly, these examples from myth and story are extreme, but the conceit is the same as when the analyst, wrapped in a hooded mantel of authority, is not attending to the work of the soul or how soul presents itself in the transference. And when the soul's need cries out for the warmth of human touch is it appropriate? The line is very fine, indeed,. Does one listen to the doctrine or law constructed by external reason and rationality or does one listen to inward ethical guidelines when attending to matters of the soul? The case of Jane Doe illustrates this point.

I recall a very difficult woman analysand of about 32 years old. She was very talented and beautiful but very troubled, racked with self hatred and suicidal thoughts. Each session she berated me for not finding an immediate cure for her. She continued to tell me how horrendous her early life had been and how it continued daily. I found myself dreading the days of her appointment—three times a week. After each hour I was angry at her and myself. One day, quite by accident, while holding her coat for her at the end of an arduous session, I automatically gently lifted her long blond pony tail out from under her coat collar. It was like a muscle memory for the movement was the same as I had done numerous times years before with my daughters when they were young. She grew still and quiet as if the rage abated in a moment of peace. The next session was more of the same but at the end of hour she waited for me to remove her pony tail from under the coat collar. For me it was not an automatic reaction this time, I was conscious and deliberate in doing this. I even fussed with her collar a bit. This became an end of the hour ritual. One day, she turned and gently hugged me. I responded in like manner and this also became part of our closing ritual. Her analysis begin to move and the suicide threats were lessened. In this case I think it was necessary that the touch of human warmth was granted in order to melt the ice surrounding her heart and soul. First the touch, then her response and then love which added the third dimension to both of our lives.

Can we also look to myths in order to discover symbolically how the erotic transference and countertransference may be channeled into an effective, no less forceful, solution? Consider, if you will, these two stories. The first is the myth of Ariadne, Theseus and Dionysos.

As we know Ariadne was a princess, daughter of King Minos of Crete. She was madly taken with Theseus, the beautiful, aristocratic young man who was sent from Athens to be sacrificed to the Minotaur. (As we recall, every nine years fourteen of Athens most promising youths—seven men and seven women—were sent in retribution because years before the King of Athens kidnapped Minos' brother.) Theseus was very athletic and could master the Minotaur by leaping over him; however, he could not master the Labyrinth in which the dangerous Minotaur was confined. And so it was that Ariadne devised a plan, a thread that Theseus when entering would trail along behind him so that it would guide him out of this disorienting maze. Ariadne also devised another plan which was that Theseus would take her far away from Crete and marry her. Proclaiming his victory over the Minotaur and the maze and true to his promise, Theseus took her away to the island of Naxos where their ship put in for the first night. But untrue to a lasting promise he abandoned her there. When Ariadne awoke the next morning realizing Theseus had left her, she was thrown into deep despair, grieving and suffering the pain of loss of love. Her feeling of ecstasy and bliss now were replaced with feelings of dark despair and grieving anguish. She longed to die and in some versions of the myth she did kill herself. In Richard Strauss' opera, Ariadne of Naxos, she sings "I will never love again and therefore I will never live again." In her darkest moments, Dionysos appears, and at first she thinks he is the messenger of death. She then recognizes he is the god, Dionysos. It is he who is her beloved and always has been. He takes her in his golden chariot to Mount Olympus where their marriage is celebrated. It is as if the heroic mortal man, Theseus, had to abandon her in order that Ariadne could recognize and realize that which was divine. Through her dark suffering and with the loss of love of mortal man she could come to full understanding of transcendent love.

Another story which parallels the Ariadne/Theseus/Dionysos myth comes from our Christen myth, The Bible. In the Gospel of St. John we find a similar triad in the relationship of Mary Magdalene/Jesus/Christ. In that narrative we find that Mary Magdalene was a fervent follower of the man Jesus, and in Coptic texts it is written she was the most beloved of Jesus and he kissed her often on the mouth. (14) We are told she was present at the crucifixion, was one of the group that carried his broken body to the tomb and on the day after the Sabbath went to anoint the dead body with spices. In a sense not unlike Theseus, the physical presence of Jesus had abandoned her, and he did so through death. And in like manner, the necessity for Ariadne to be abandoned by the physical man Theseus in order that she might then become conscious of the god, so it was for Mary Magdalene to be abandoned by the physical presence of Jesus in order that she might become conscious of the risen Christ, the Son of God.

The writer of the Gospel of St. John describes Mary Magdalene looking into the tomb where she sees two angels who ask why she is weeping. She does not notice the grave clothes laying there and assumes his body has been stolen and is fearful that she knows not where the body is. At this point something very important happens as is written in this Gospel:

Saying this, she turned herself around and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek? Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, " Sir if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away. Jesus said to her, "Mary." She turned and said to him in Hebrew "Rabboni: (which means teacher) (15)

In this passage it is written two times that she turned herself (back or around) indicating an acceptance of change, a willed responsibility for change. Something shifted in Mary Magdalene's sensibility of remaining attached to past images, of longing to stay in connection to the physical (albeit dead) Jesus. In turning around or coming to a new consciousness she then was able to see the Christ image. At first she, not unlike Ariadne assuming Dionysos to be the messenger of death, failed to recognize this figure appearing before her until he says her name. Only when he says her name—as if to give Mary Magdalene her self identity—does she then realize the image of Christ. She called him Rabboni, a word which means more than teacher or rabbi. Some writers interpret this as a word reserved for God, while others explain it as a term of intensity or even endearment as "my teacher" as if to acknowledge a more intimate relationship. The salient point is that the mortal man had to abandon her even causing great despair in order that she could turn herself around, come to a new conscious understanding of the true essence of her beloved—that which was not mortal but divine.

This verse is followed by the explanation that Mary Magdalene is overjoyed to see he who she thought was dead was now "alive" speaking out to her. She reaches out to him. Now the Christ image speaks the familiar response: "Noli me tangere." or touch me not. This translation does not serve this situation well for we are told that later he allowed Thomas and others to touch his wounds. The Greek translation makes this saying even more poignant: Do not cling to me or hold on to me. Do not bind yourself to me. So very direct. David Miller in his book, Hells and Holy Ghosts, expands the meaning of this: It is to your advantage that I go away. (16) This is not without reason when we look at the situation psychologically. Mary Magdalene had to let go of all her past projections, fixated ideas, dreams, fantasies to which she was clinging. She could no longer "touch" the outer other in order to fulfill her needs seeking a sense of completion. The not clinging to or not touching is a letting go, a letting go of ego needs, demands, wishes. It is the surrender of ego to the Self. The physical body of the beloved was dead, but the spirit remained. Physical, human love with all the entangled human emotions was transformed and realized as transcendent love.

Our story doesn't end there for the narrative of St. John continues. Christ instructs Mary Magdalene to go tell the others what she has seen. As if to say, you are my spokesperson—the locus of authority is shifting. She is thus empowered. In our analogy of this gospel and the analytic process, what better outcome could one imagine: the turning around of conscious understanding, the withdrawal of the transference, the sense of the divine within, the fulfillment of transcendent love, and the sense of empowerment or the locus of authority within.

Within the alchemical vessel of analytic process, the inter-relatedness between two people transpires in the psychic space. Erotic transference/countertransference is the underlying fire, if your will, or passion or heat that generates movement, change and transformation. Transformation occurs as the analysand experiences pain of symbolic death, the mystery, the transcendence, and comes into relation with the Self.

In closing a quote from Jung:

[Analysis] must be a genuine process of purification where all superfluities are consumed by the fire and the basic facts emerge. Is there any thing more fundamental than the realization, "This is what I am?" It reveals a unity which nevertheless is—or was—a diversity. No longer the earlier ego with its make-believes and artificial contrivances, but another 'objective' ego which for this reason is better called the "self." No longer a mere selection of suitable fictions, but a string of hard facts, which together make up the cross we all have to carry or the fate we ourselves are. (17)

© Nancy Qualls-Corbett 2000. All rights reserved.

References

The Bible: Revised Standard Edition

Bulfinch, Thomas Bulfinch's Mythology. New York: Gramercy Books, 1979.

Jung, C. G. "On the Psychology of the Transference," The Practice of Psychotherapy. CW 16, tr. by R. F. G. Hull, Bollingen Series XX 2 nd edition, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1966.

"New Developments in Analytical Psychology," The Symbolic Life.

CW 18 , tr. by R. F. G. Hull, Bollingen Series XX 2 nd edition, Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1965.

Miller, David L. Hells and Holy Ghosts. Nashville: Abington Press, 1989.

Robinson, James, ed. The Nag Hammadi Library. San Francisco: Harper, 1990.

Rowling, J. K. Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. New York: Scholastic, Inc., 1999.

Sandars, N.K. (ed.) The Epic of Gilgamesh. Baltimore: Penquin Books, 1964.

Notes

1. C.G. Jung, CW 16, p. 172.

2. C. G. Jung CW 16, p. 171n, cited from Sigmund Freud, Introductory Lectures, Part III, p. 455

3. C.G. Jung, CW 16, p.171

4. C.G. Jung, CW 16, p.173.

5. C.G. Jung CW 16, p.180

6. C.G. Jung CW 16, p.180

7. C.G. Jung CW 16, p. 178

8. C.G. Jung, CW 18, p. 493

9. C.G. Jung CW 16, p.71

10. Bullfinch's Mythology, p.20

11. N.K. Sandars, The Epic of Gilgamesh, p. 84-85

12. J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban , p. 83

13. ibid. p. 247

14. Nag Hammadi Library, Gospel of Philip 63:34-35

15. The Bible, Revised Standard Edition , John 20: 14-16

16. David Miller, Hells and Holy Ghosts, Chap. 13

17. C.G. Jung, CW 16, p.199

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