The chemistry in the space. What is it all about?
There is a natural mechanism within the psyche, and the creative process, that tries to equalize an inner imbalance. In general, the conscious and unconscious aspects of the personality have different perspectives and aims in life. The conscious personality is directed toward the outside world and has to adapt to worldly situations of which the unconscious is not aware, and this is necessary; it is goal-directed. The self, on the other hand, represents the whole/total personality, our full potential, and includes the conscious and the unconscious personality; it is concerned with the general well-being of the whole personality, a perspective which is not possible for the conscious personality to have.
It often happens that the conscious personality is not aligned to the whole. When the unconscious perceives that the conscious personality neglects the whole, a complimentary load builds up in the unconscious, producing symptoms. This is not uncommon. The unconscious will then try to communicate the problem by way of a dream perhaps, or a slip of the tongue, or other ‘mistakes’ in an attempt to draw the attention of the conscious personality to the problem. Symbolic creative work can help to mediate this imbalance, to restore the inner balance and to learn something about the interfering complex. I found this mechanism beautifully illustrated in the ancient Chinese tale, The Magic Paintbrush.
Liang was a poor boy who loved to paint but could not afford to buy brushes and paper. One day he went to the schoolmaster and asked for a paintbrush, but he was chased away. That night Liang dreamt that an old man with a white beard and long white hair came to him on a phoenix. He gave Liang a golden paintbrush, and told him to use it only for the good of the people. The next day, Liang was delighted to discover that he had received a real paintbrush! He immediately started painting. To his astonishment, as soon as his picture was completed, it became alive. From then on he used his gift to help the poor.
But the emperor came to hear of it. He wanted Liang to paint gold so that he could be rich, but Liang refused, saying he worked only for the poor. The emperor was furious, and locked him up. He then used Liang’s paintbrush to paint bars of gold. However, when he tried to pick it up, it became a poisonous snake from which he had to be rescued. He realized that he needed Liang. Again the emperor asked Liang to paint what he wanted, this time in exchange for his daughter in marriage, and Liang agreed. First he wanted Liang to paint the sea; next he wanted a boat to sail in, and Liang painted it all, and it became real. Then the emperor wanted wind, so he and his followers could sail. He cried, “Paint more, paint more wind, Liang!” And Liang painted more and more wind till it became a huge storm and the ship disappeared under the enormous waves. Then Liang went home.
The emperor wants it for himself, but the old man on the phoenix wants it to benefit the poor.
This is to me the most important part of the story. We find here a conscious attitude that does not operate in a beneficial way and this problem needs to change. The psyche’s solution to the problem is the magic paintbrush to be used for the benefit of the poor people, the neglected aspects of the whole personality, not only for the benefit of the conscious personality, the emperor.
The old man on the phoenix represents the whole personality. The paintbrush is peculiar: it is a magic brush, and its products become real. It represents the symbol-making creative function, and the painted symbol that becomes alive, may be able to influence the imbalance in a beneficial way, bringing healing and nourishment. This is how I understand the chemistry of what happens within the creative space. When a fantasy is given shape, it enters the world of consciousness and may influence us, our perspectives, and our actions; it becomes real.
At first there is need, a poor child, and neglected people of the land, and this leads to the appearance of the paintbrush and the successful execution of simple tasks: nourishment is brought to aspects of the personality in need.
Finally, the problematic imbalance in the personality had to be corrected, which led to renewal on a larger scale: the one-sided attitude of the conscious personality, the emperor, has to change, and Liang has become strong enough to stand up to the problem. The old exploiting, persecutory emperor is destroyed, and Liang is able to return home, to his personality as a whole.
When I refer to symbols I think of Jung’s use of the concept.
The content of the creative space, whether clearly of a symbolic nature or not, should be treated as such, because of the way we make the space and the attitude with which we approach it. All the content of the space should be treated as the potential seed of the symbol.
The symbol is the essence of psychic energy presented as an image. It is energy; it is alive. Jung described it as the best possible expression of a complex fact not yet fully understood by consciousness. It presents “an objective visible meaning, behind which an invisible profounder meaning is hidden.” A symbolic image has many meanings, and the unconscious circles around it to present it to us from different points of view. The healing, nourishing properties of the symbol (or symbol-to-be) is in the experience of the other aspects of the truth, represented by the image, or series of images. It comes from the unconscious; it is an inner alignment, and a wider perspective. It is able to influence a one-sided conscious attitude.

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