Imposing time reversal symmetry

As we have seen, the age-old phenomenon of possession has a well-earned reputation for being associated with evil, destructiveness, psychopathology and violence. This distinctly negative quality of possession will always be present to the extent that the possessing daimons or complexes are disconnected from consciousness. In such a situation, the daimonic drives us blindly and uses us to attain its own goals, regardless of the undesirable or destructive

consequences. As Jung points out,

Probably no one imagines this state as being particularly harmless, and there is in fact no difference in principle between a slip of the tongue caused by a complex and the wildest blasphemies; it is only a difference of degree. The history of language provides innumerable illustrations of this. When some one is in the throes of a violent emotion we exclaim: “What’s got into him today?” “He is driven by the devil,”. . . etc. In using these somewhat worn metaphors we naturally do not think of their original meaning, although it is easily recognizable and points without a doubt to the feet that naiver and more primitive people did not “psychologize” disturbing complexes as we do, but regarded them as beings in their own right, that is, demons.³⁶

Conversely, there has always existed another type of possession—”voluntary” or “benevolent”

possession—in which the individual consciously chooses to invite the daimonic forces for

constructive purposes, like religious rituals or artistic creativity. Benevolent possession is a state of mind during which the person is guided by supposedly divine and beneficent—as opposed to demonic and maleficent—spirits or daimons. Our popular mythology about “angels” reflects this helpful, protective and instructive side of the daimon. Jungian analyst Alfred Ribi writes that

we can learn much from primitive peoples about the positive function of possession. In this extraordinary ecstatic state in which the ordinary consciousness is more or less disabled, even paranormal feats, which are often used for the welfare of the community, become possible. (Genuine seances with mediums approach this quite closely.) Ecstatic states have always been considered an exceptional religious condition and play a major role in many religions throughout the world. The oracles of the Pythia in Delphi or the soothsaying Germanic seeresses should be seen in this light. . . . The techniques for reaching such a state are many and varied—from chemical drugs to monotonous rhythms. In every case, there is an abaissement du niveau mental, a lowering of the mental level, which makes it easier for unconscious contents to cross over.³⁷

Psychoanalyst Erich Fromm relates this ecstatic, rage-inducing initiation rite known traditionally by some Teutonic tribes as “going berserk,” during which

the male youth was induced into a state of identification with a bear. [The term “berserk”

may be literally translated as “bear shirt.”] The initiated would attack people, trying to bite them, not speaking but simply making noises like a bear. To be in this trancelike state was the highest accomplishment of this ritual, and to have participated in it was the beginning of independent manhood. The expression furor teutonicus implies the sacred nature of this particular stage of rage. . . . It is rage for the sake of rage, not directed against an enemy or provoked by any damage or insult. It aimed at a trancelike state which in this case is organized around the all-pervasive feeling of rage. It may be that the induction of this state was helped by drugs. . . .The unifying force of absolute rage was required as a means to arrive at the experience of ecstasis.³⁸

We are reminded here of psychologist Robert Zaslow’s remarks in chapter one about the positive value of rage. Sacred rites des passages such as these permitted participants to fully immerse themselves in rage, redeeming it from repression, and infusing it with a positive rather than negative power.

As to the use of psychogenic drugs such as peyote, psilocybin, mescaline, lysergic acid

diethylamide (LSD), hashish, marijuana or that old standard, alcohol, to deliberately induce states of daimonic possession, there is no debating the Dionysian and mind-altering effects produced by their ingestion. Alcohol has long been utilized by artists to lubricate creativity by chemically

inducing the daimonic. Psychedelic drugs, popularized by psychologist Timothy Leary during the 1960s, are apparently having a recent renascence. Some “New Age” scientists, like

anthropologist Terrance McKenna, are calling for a return to so-called archaic consciousness through the increased use of psilocybin mushrooms. He claims that certain “entities” speak to him under the influence of this drug, presumably much in the manner of Socrates’ daimonion, or those ancestral spirits of the dead discussed in chapter three.³⁹ At all events, the insidious dangers of psychoactive drug use, even for well-intentioned “spiritual” or “religious” purposes, must not be underestimated. The daimonic is definitely never something to be naively toyed with by thrill-seeking dilettantes.

During the Middle Ages, the knights sought such ecstatic experiences by way of voluntarily surrendering themselves spiritually—though not physically—to the love of a fair damsel, who became the revered object of adoration, worship and “inspiration, the symbol of all beauty and perfection, the ideal that moved him to be noble, spiritual, refined and high-minded.”⁴⁰ Throughout history, the beneficial, restorative and invigorating effects of “falling in love” are legendary—as are the notorious, all-too-familiar pitfalls. As stated earlier, these are examples of erotic possession.

Benevolent possession can occur in the creative process as well. The artist allows him or

herself to be swept up in the raging current of primordial images, ideas, intuitions and emotions emanating from the daimonic, while, at the same time, retaining sufficient conscious control to render this raw energy or prima materia into some new creative form. Such a voluntary surrender to the daimonic, comments May, must not “be thought of merely as a Bacchic ‘letting go’: it

involves the total person, with the subconscious and unconscious acting in unity with the

conscious. It is not, thus, irrational; it is, rather, suprarational. It brings intellectual, volitional, and emotional functions into play together.”⁴¹ (We will be delving more deeply into the curious relationship between the daimonic and creativity in chapter eight.)

Voluntary possession can be a constructive, integrating, even healing experience. But its inducement demands specific attributes, discipline and skills, including adequate ego strength to withstand and meaningfully structure (rather than succumbing to) daimonic chaos. The boundary between benevolent and malevolent possession is perilously permeable, and may be abruptly or imperceptibly breached. In the absence of such essential personal qualities—as well as the much-needed external matrix of family, friends and community support—voluntary possession can quickly and dangerously deteriorate into destructive, involuntary possession, otherwise known as madness or psychosis. This is, for example, one way of thinking about mania in manic-depressive psychosis: “The very name. . . given by the Greeks to madness was derived from the root-word man, men, which occurs in the Latin Manes, and indeed the Romans thought that a madman was tormented by the goddess Mania, the mother of the Lares, the hallucinations of lunatics being taken to be spectres who pursued them.”⁴²

Manic-depressive psychosis was observed at least as far back as 400 B.C. by Hippocrates, and has always been associated with possession, madness and creativity. Clinical psychologist Kay Redfield Jamison, who herself suffers from bipolar disorder, makes a compelling (if not very convincing) biological argument for the genetic and biochemical determinants of

manic-depressive illness, in conjunction with its close correlation to the so-called “artistic

temperament.”⁴³ But bipolar disorder can also be conceived as a psychological and emotional process of voluntary and involuntary possession, involving alternating polar extremes of

destructiveness and creativity. In its manic, energized or “high” phase, it is the prototype of

“creative madness,” or positive daimonic possession. Many artists with this syndrome—especially those who are prodigiously talented—seek to intentionally invite possession by the daimon of Mania (or by the Muse, yet another daimonic symbol) in order to enhance their creative powers.

While this barely controlled, voluntary state of benevolent possession, sometimes referred to today as “hypomania,” can be abundantly productive and fruitful, it too often turns into full-blown manic psychosis: the person is swamped, inundated, swept away, overwhelmed and sometimes nearly drowned by the daimonic. Or, mania may just as swiftly turn to its opposite, psychotic depression, in yet another devastating state of negative possession about which we will have more to say in the next chapter.⁴⁴

Nonetheless, when considered within certain cultural contexts, states one author, “possession by benevolent, mystical spirits is a socially acceptable expression of psychological conflicts that functions to provide the agent with a source or abreaction, communication, status, and resolution of cognitive and emotional stress.”⁴⁵ Daimonic possession, as we have seen, can be beneficial, cathartic and even therapeutic in some cases. There are societies existing today (in Haiti and Mexico, for instance) that do not consider the possession phenomenon pathological, but rather encourage their citizens to ceremoniously, ritually, voluntarily invite the daimonic to take

temporary possession of them as a technique for resolving their troubling psychological and spiritual problems.

One excellent example of the therapeutic practice of voluntary possession is Voodoo, an ancient religion still popular in West Africa, the West Indies, Haiti, Brazil and, perhaps surprisingly, some sections of the United States.⁴⁶ Speaking of the occult belief-system of Voodoo, Esther Leonard De Vos explains that Voodoo hinges on the belief in the existence of powerful, yet invisible spiritual forces: “The belief that there are invisible forces that can affect the lives and behavior of man is one of the oldest and most prevalent beliefs. In a much earlier time these invisible forces were called gods or demons. . . . These forces are not physical nor visible,

and because of this they are referred to by the Haitian who practices Voodoo as les invisibles.

Being invisible does not make them less real; they are considered to be true and correct.”⁴⁷ De Vos goes on to say that a person may willingly invoke the deities or loa for assistance in difficult times or circumstances with the aid of the Voodoo priests or shamans But on occasion, these “invisible forces” can take possession of the troubled person, precipitating what she calls a

“possession crisis phenomenon.” De Vos describes this dramatic event as follows:

The possession crisis itself is brief in duration, usually lasting from five to eight minutes, and manifests itself in three distinct phases. The first stage is hyperventilation during which the person remains conscious but experiences distortions in perceptions, including hallucinations and loss of equilibrium. . . . The second phase follows immediately, and is typified by psychomotor agitation. . . . During this phase consciousness is lost. The third stage is marked by the collapse of the person possessed, after which he soon regains consciousness. There is always amnesia for the duration of the possession crisis.⁴⁸

This vivid depiction resembles a highly condensed version of what we clinicians call a “brief psychotic episode.” But De Vos, a Jungian analyst, notes: “In contrast to analysis, where

individuality is retained and developed, the possession crisis ceremony brings people together in a common ritual with a prescribed goal. The individual abandons himself to the group in a kind of ecstasy or act of surrender. Something greater than the individual emerges;. . . the energy

released is channelled toward. . . healing.” And, as she goes on to say, “Possession in Christianity is not dissimilar from possession in Voodoo, except that in Christianity the only possession sought is by the Holy Ghost; all other possessions are considered works of the devil.”⁴⁹ Voluntary possession is indeed similarly practiced by some Christians, as De Vos correctly points out; particularly Christian fundamentalists, for whom possession by the “Holy Ghost” or “Holy Spirit” is something to be enthusiastically encouraged within the supportive and containing context of the congregation, and highly prized for its presumed healing powers, both spiritual and physical.

Voluntary possession also holds a place of major importance in the time-honored tradition of shamanism. Jungian psychiatrist Alfred Ribi reports one such self-induced initiatory experience related by a South Dakotan medicine man, during which he was visited in a sublime vision by what would later become his “helping spirits” or spiritus familiares—the “winged ones”:

“supernatural beings, somewhat comparable to our angels. . . . If he follows these destiny fraught powers, they will show him their helpful side. If he struggles against them, they will turn their demonic, destructive side to him.”⁵⁰ (We will touch again on the topic of “angels” and their psychological significance in chapter eight.)

But to sum up succinctly for now the potentially positive, cathartic, creative, integrating and therapeutic uses of daimonic possession, we turn to yet another distinguished Jungian analyst, M.

Esther Harding, who states concisely that

in the orgiastic religions, in which awe of the god and inspiration by him were experienced as part of the ritual, the goal of the religious practices was the attainment of an ecstasy in which the worshipper felt himself to be possessed by his god. . . .The wild and prolonged dancing of the dervishes of Mohammedan countries produces an ecstatic, trancelike condition. Ascetic practices are also undertaken for the same purpose, as among the medicine men of some American Indian tribes, and also among Eskimos, who become nearly crazed from fasting, loneliness, and self-inflicted pain. The latter practice played a part also in the ritually produced ecstasy of the flagellantes of mediaeval times, whose cult has survived even to the present day. . . .In India, the yogin seeks this ecstatic state, called samadhi, through meditation and other yogic practices. . . . Drugs such as hashish,. . . marijuana, or peyote, in addition to alcohol, have been used in widely separated parts of the globe in connection with religious rituals to induce states of trance.⁵¹ There has always been a primal connection linking creativity—and religiosity—with the vitally

transforming phenomenon of daimonic possession. “In such experiences of inspiration and rapture,” concludes Harding,

the poets of all times have felt themselves to be filled with a divine influx. . . . For a short space of time such an individual feels himself to be made whole through submitting to possession of his being by a power greater than himself. . . .

There is no doubt that life is renewed through contact with these instinctive depths, dangerous though such a contact [can be]. . . . Individuals who have had such experiences assert that they attained a sense of redemption. . . through such a consummation of union with the daemonic force, which they conceived of as God.⁵²

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