There is an old idea that each soul carries a deep memory of wholeness. Not the wholeness of perfection, but of belonging to the world in a meaningful way. That sense often gets covered over by the chaos and pace of modern life, yet it never disappears. It lives beneath the noise, in the roots of our being. It waits.
In mythology, the journey into the depths is always sparked by some kind of trouble. The surface life no longer holds. A dream unsettles us. A symptom takes root. A sadness lingers without explanation. These are not signs of failure, though they may feel that way. They are signs that the soul is speaking again.
Carl Jung called this deeper center the Self. Not the self of preference or personality, but the inner source of our becoming. A kind of hidden fire that knows what our life is meant to face. It is both the oldest part of us and what we are still becoming. The Self does not shout. It shows up in quiet ways. In dreams. In longings. In strange urges to leave, or to stay. In moments when the outer world falls apart and something ancient inside begins to stir.
One of the stories told in this work is of a woman whose childhood was lost early. In her dream, a witch steals her child self. The witch demands that she complete three strange tasks. Each one touches something she has spent her life avoiding. Her body, her fear, her history. The tasks seem cruel. But within the cruelty lies meaning. This is how the Self reclaims what was stolen. Not through avoidance, but through a deeper courage.
The witch, the child, the impossible tasks. These are not just symbols from one person’s life. They are echoes from the collective unconscious. Images that live in every human soul. The language of the old stories. Each of us lives inside such a story, whether we know it or not.
The Self speaks a mythic tongue. It does not say “do this” or “be that.” It moves in images and moods. In the way a crow circles above when something has died. In the way an old song can draw tears without warning.
The ego wants to be in charge. It wants answers and plans. But the Self works by rhythm and necessity. It will bring the whole house down if it needs to. Not to punish, but to redirect.
James Hollis, a soul-wise Jungian analyst, teaches how to listen to these movements of the psyche.
The old ones knew this. They listened to dreams. They sat with their stories. They read the body and the world like scripture. We do not need to return to the past, but we do need to return to the deep.
The way forward is always through. Not around. Not above. Through the tangled forest of the soul. Through the dark night, where symbols rise like stars. Through the very thing we hoped to avoid.
The Self is not here to make us feel good. It is here to make us whole.
When we stop trying to fix everything, and instead listen, something ancient responds. The images grow louder. The soul moves closer. And we find, beneath the surface of our troubles, the map we have been carrying all along.
Madeline– Soulful Nuggets Team
This blog is a reflection on the course ‘Introduction to Jungian Psychology‘ taught by James Hollis .
