Jung Self Awareness Quotes

Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves.

Until you make the unconscious conscious, it will direct your life and you will call it fate.

Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart. Who looks outside, dreams; who looks inside, awakes.

But the shadow is merely somewhat inferior, primitive, unadapted, and awkward; not wholly bad. It even contains childish or primitive qualities which would in a way vitalize and embellish human existence, but convention forbids!

People will do anything, no matter how absurd, to avoid facing their own souls. They will practice Indian yoga and all its exercises, observe a strict regimen or diet, learn theosophy by heart, or mechanically repeat mystic texts from the literature of the whole world – all because they cannot get on with themselves and have not the slightest faith that anything useful could ever come out of their souls. … It is rewarding to watch patiently the silent happenings in the soul, and the most and the best happens when it is not regulated from outside and from above. I readily admit that I have such a great respect for what happens in the human soul that I would be afraid of disturbing and distorting the silent operation of nature by clumsy interference.” 

The Wounded Inner Child is the primary gateway to healing and integration. When you invite your woundedness out of subversiveness and into your awareness you finally begin to honor the past pain. You also minimize its contractive influence on your life. And you begin to offer yourself the potential of something more.

The Hiding - A Haiku In shadows he dwells, Thinking is tough, he judges, Light reveals the truth.

shadow side: (n.) self you encounter when you do not look in the mirror.

I thought and spoke much of the soul. I knew many learned words for her, I had judged her and turned her into a scientific object. I I did not consider that my soul cannot be the object of my judgment and knowledge; much more are my judgment and knowledge the objects of my soul. Therefore the spirit of the depths forced me to speak to my soul, to call upon her as a living and self-existing being. I had to become aware that I had lost my soul. From this we learn how the spirit of the depths considers the soul: he sees her as a living and self-existing being, and with this he contradicts the spirit of this time for whom the soul is a thing dependent on man, which lets herself be judged and arranged, and whose circumference we can grasp. I had to accept that what I had previously called my soul was not at all my soul, but a dead system. Hence I had to speak to my soul as to something far off and unknown, which did not exist through me, but through whom I existed.

Viktor Frankl used the metaphor of geometric dimensions to illustrate challenges in perception and understanding. Just as a three-dimensional cylinder projected onto a two-dimensional plane can appear as different shapes depending on the angle, our perspectives are limited by the "conceptual dimensions" we inhabit. Focusing on one framework or worldview casts blind spots on issues outside its purview. Like the cylinder, reality contains more complexity than any single viewpoint can capture. What appears contradictory from a limited vantage point may be reconciled from a broader perspective. Self has this broad perspective. Frankl suggested cultivating multi-dimensional awareness (Self's awareness) to overcome biases and grasp truth more wholly. Though we cannot transcend our situatedness (parts and ego), we can seek to understand the diverse dimensions that comprise the fullness of reality. Awareness of our frames allows us to interpret experiences with more wisdom and nuance.

The interpretation of dreams and symbols demands intelligence. It cannot be turned into a mechanical system and then crammed into unimaginative brains. It demands both an increasing knowledge of the dreamer’s individuality and an increasing self-awareness on the part of the interpreter

Selfish desire ultimately desires itself You find yourselfin your desire, so do not say that desire is vain. Ifyou desire yoursel£ you produce the divine son in your embrace with yourself Your desire is the father of the God, your self is the mother of the God, but the son is the new God, your master. If you embrace your sel£ then it will appear to you as if the world has become cold and empty The cOlning God moves into this emptiness. If you are in your solitude, and all the space around you has become cold and unending, then you have moved far from men, and at the same time you have come near to them as never before. Selfish desire only" apparently led you to men, but in reality it led you away from them and in the end to yoursel£ which to you and to others was the most remote. But now, if you are in solitude, your God leads you to the God of others, and through that to the true neighbor, to the neighbor of the self in others. If you are in yoursel£ you become aware of your incapacity. You will see how little capable you are of imitating the heroes and ofbeing a hero yourself So you will also no longer force others to become heroes. Like you, they suffer from incapacity Incapacity; too, wants to live, but it will overthrow your Gods.

This is no matter for astonishment, since these images are deposits of thousands of years of experience of the struggle for existence and for adaptation. Every great experience in life, every profound conflict, evokes the accumulated treasure of these images and brings about their inner constellation. But they become accessible to consciousness only when the individual possesses so much self-awareness and power of understanding that he also reflects on what he experiences instead of just living it blindly. In the latter event he actually lives the myth and the symbol without knowing it.

… A destitute joins me and wants admittance into my soul, and I am thus not destitute enough. Where was my destitution when I did not live it? I was a player at life, one who thought earnestly about life and lived it easily. The destitute was far away and forgotten. Life had become difficult and murkier. Winter kept on going, and the destitute stood in snow and froze. I join myself with him, since I need him. He makes living light and easy. He leads to the depths, to the ground where I can see the heights. Without the depths , I do not have the heights. I may be on the heights, but precisely because of that I do not become aware of the heights. I therefore need the bottommost for my renewal. If I am always on the heights, I wear them out and the best becomes atrocious to me. But because I do not want to have it, my best becomes a horror to me. Because of that I myself become a horror, a horror to myself and to others, and a bad spirit of torment. Be respectful and know that your best has become a horror, with that you save yourself and others from useless torment. A man who can no longer climb down from his heights is sick, and he brings himself and others to torment. If you have reached your depths, then you see your height light up brightly over you, worthy of desire and far-off, as if unreachable, since secretly you would prefer not to reach it since it seems unattainable to you. For you also love to praise your heights when you are low and to tell yourself that you would have only left them with pain, and that you did not live so long as you missed them. It is a good thing that you have almost become the other nature that makes you speak this way. But at bottom you know that it is not quite true. At your low point you are no longer distinct from your fellow beings. You are not ashamed and do not regret it, since insofar as you live the life of your fellow beings and descend to their lowliness you also climb into the holy stream of common life, where you are no longer an individual on a high mountain, but a fish among fish, a frog among frogs. Your heights are your own mountain, which belongs to you and you alone. There you are individual and live your very own life. If you live your own life, you do not live the common life, which is always continuing and never-ending, the life of history and the inalienable and ever-present burdens and products of the human race. There you live the endlessness of being, but not becoming. Becoming belongs to the heights and is full of torment. How can you become if you never are? Therefore you need your bottommost, since there you are. But therefore you also need your heights, since there you become. If you live the common life at your lowest reaches, then you become aware of your self. If you are on your heights, then you are your best, and you become aware only of your best, but not that which you are in the general life as a being. What one is as one who becomes, no one knows. But on the heights, imagination is as its strongest. For we imagine that we know what we are as developing beings, and even more so, the less we want to know what we are as beings. Because of that we do not love the condition of our being brought low, although or rather precisely because only there do we attain clear knowledge of ourselves. Everything is riddlesome to one who is becoming, but not to one who is. He who suffers from riddles should take thought of his lowest condition; we solve those from which we suffer, but not those which please us. To be that which you are is the bath of rebirth. In the depths, being is not an unconditional persistence but an endlessly slow growth. You think you are standing still like swamp water, but slowly you flow into the sea that covers the earth’s greatest deeps, and is so vast that firm land seems only an island imbedded in the womb of the immeasurable sea.

The impulse to sacrifice proceeds in the above instance from the mater saeva cupidinum, who drives the son to madness and self-mutilation. As a primal being the mother represents the unconscious; hence the myths tell us that the impulse to sacrifice comes from the unconscious. This is to be understood in the sense that regression is inimical to life and disrupts the instinctual foundations of the personality, and is consequently followed by a compensatory reaction taking the form of violent suppression and elimination of the incompatible tendency. It is a natural, unconscious process, a collision between instinctive tendencies, which the conscious ego experiences in most cases passively because it is not normally aware of these libido movements and does not consciously participate in them.

A further reason for becoming more self-aware, is because the unconscious is not only home to elements of our character which conflict with our self-image and elicit shame, such as our character faults and weaknesses, but it also contains much of what is best about us. This is especially true in the modern day, where we tend to rely too much on our social role, or what Jung called the persona, in the building up of our character. In so doing we make “. . .a formidable concession to the external world, a genuine self-sacrifice which drives the ego straight into identification with the persona, so that people really do exist who believe they are what they pretend to be.” Carl Jung, Two Essays on Analytical Psychology

The tendency to view the diversity of forms as bothersome illusions (maya) to be transcended is a common trap in certain nondual teachings. There is often a desire to move beyond the inconvenient multiplicity of parts back to the oneness of pure awareness. However, this practice of discarding the relative in favour of the absolute only leads to further separation and more walls dividing self from Self. Rather than escaping our parts, we can become curious about their unique vantage points. This presents opportunities for connection and appreciating our shared essence. Completely discarding maya overlooks the value of this multiplicity in allowing the absolute to fully know and express itself. The parts are not obstacles to be overcome, but rather vehicles on the path—the teachers in the schoolhouse we call life. What's in the way, is the way. As Rumi's 'Guest House' poem expresses, each part has come for a reason, bringing gifts to share. Rather than rejecting these 'visitors,' we can open the door wide to welcome their presence. By listening to their wisdom with curiosity and compassion, we can deepen our understanding and connection to the whole.

Our journey spirals inwardly towards the central point—our unique Self—contrasted with the separate self. This unique Self represents a perfect equilibrium of immanence and transcendence, particle and wave, parts and whole. It neither rejects nor clings to either polarity, instead guiding from a harmonious balance between the opposing spectrums. The unique Self transcends the ego's constraints and the abstraction of nondual awareness, allowing us to fully embody the human form while recognizing our spiritual nature. Without realizing and gravitating towards this unique Self, we remain subject to the ego's chaotic attempts to manage disparate parts. The unique Self exerts a grounding, centering gravitational force similar to Earth's pull, providing a stable point of attraction. While the transpersonal Self is the boundless, aware presence containing everything, analogous to the limitless expanse of outer space beyond Earth.

Neumann draws a parallel between the infant's initial state of absolute wholeness, where the ego is submerged in the unconscious realm of uroboric unity. As the ego emerges, we experience a painful sense of separation from this unitary state, as well as from the intimate connection to life. The pinnacle of psychological growth becomes attaining once more that lost condition of original integration, but this time with full conscious awareness under the leadership of the Self.

The presence of fire during the ordeal (dark night of the soul) symbolizes burning off remnants of burdens to prepare for integration of the part's re-awakening to its inherent beauty and positive qualities. Braving those flames facilitates this unveiling and a shift towards awareness of Self within. Just as diamonds form under incredible heat and pressure deep within the Earth, so too does the intense fire of inner turmoil and emotional pressure during the ordeal stage forge exiled parts into brilliant gems of Self-realization.

We can render this service to God because, “just as the unconscious affects us, so the increase in our consciousness affects the unconscious” (MDR: 358). This way, simply by reflecting upon life and world we already automatically contribute to God’s self-awareness, whether we know it or not. Jung’s view implies that human life has inevitable meaning.

If someone were to ask me about one must-have life skill, without a second thought, I’d answer jung-gyeon (정견 / 正見), the ability to see things as they are, to see yourself for who you are. We in our old age need this sense of astute self-awareness.

From the moment of birth, women are schooled in a million subtle ways to be overly impressed with men and masculine ways, and to take our feminine needs and interests less seriously. The covert conditioning of a lifetime does not automatically disappear just because we want it to; it becomes buried in the unconscious where it continues to influence our behavior without our conscious awareness. I think there are three main reasons why women attempt to impress men: to attract a mate, to bolster our self-esteem, or to get and keep some of the power that can be acquired by aligning ourselves with dominant males.

The depth psychologist C.G. Jung, himself deeply influenced by Augustine, divided life into two halves (see Figure 6.2, Jung’s Stages of Life). He argued that we live the first half of life on the sheer energy of being youthful biological organisms. The tasks of this stage of life are dominated by the biological need for the reproduction of the species and the social need to reproduce the collective wisdom of one’s culture through education. Then, somewhere around the middle of life,it finally hits you one day that half your life is over, that your youth is past and that time is slipping away from you. In your youth it seemed as if you had all the time in the world and as if you could do anything. Now you come to face the fact that time is running out and there are some things you will never accomplish. Mid-life is the point at which we reach the apex of the biological curve of life, that turning point where youth gives way to the inevitable processes of aging, sickness, and death. This is the life cycle of all living things, plant, animal or human.Inthe case of humans, however, we are conscious of our mortality, an awareness that sends us on a quest, seeking for a personal answer to the problem of death as a loss of self as the second half of our life looms before us. As

On this second trip, Jung had something like a mystical or metaphysical experience. He suddenly understood the meaning of self-consciousness, in an otherwise apparently oblivious universe. It was through our awareness of existence, Jung understood, that it gains meaning. On a game preserve on the Athai Plains, Jung saw huge herds of animals: antelopes, zebras, gazelles stretched endlessly to the horizon. He felt he witnessed “the stillness of the eternal beginning, the world as it had always been, in the state of non-being; for until then no one had been present to know that it was this world.” Jung separated from his companions until they were out of sight and imagined he was utterly alone. He was trying to re-create the first moment of self-consciousness, when consciousness first recognized the distinction between itself and the world, when it could first regard the world objectively, detached from it, as an observer. “In an invisible act of creation,” man had “put the stamp of perfection on the world by giving it objective existence.

Many of us are like James Joyce’s Mr. Duffy who “lived a short distance from his body.” In fact, we may live some distance from our bodies, and it can take enormous effort to get back in touch with our five senses. In trying, we often go overboard and get destructive with our bodies or what we put into them. …An unexpected pratfall is sometimes the way our “earthiness” is revealed to us. Jung once spoke of this experience as a pilgrimage back down out of the clouds into our bodies. He writes of having to climb back down to the earth to accept that the little clod of earth that he was. This wasn’t self-negation but true humility. The monk Thomas Merton records having a similar experience in a crosswalk in Louisville. He jumped for joy when he realized that he was like everybody else-a human being, a creature in solidarity with all creation. But not everybody jumps for joy at that realization. One reason we may try to ignore the senses or zonk out with excess is that our bodies remind us of our extreme vulnerability. The gift of life can be taken away so suddenly and unexpectedly. Holding this awareness rescues us from the danger of imagining that we are morally self-sufficient or excellent. Celebrating our vulnerability and finitude places our fears and dreads where they belong-not at the center of life but at its edge. We are closer to the mystery at the heart of things, to which the proper response is gratitude.

Bunch of Quotes … Legend: #/ = page number 12/ Money as Archetype. The key point is that money must have power over us inwardly in order to have power in the world. We must believe in its value before we will change our conduct based on whether or not we will receive it. In the broadest sense, money becomes a vehicle of relationship. It enables us to make choices and cooperate with one another, it singlas what we will do with our energy. 16/ The Latin word moneta derives from the Indo-European root men-, which means to use one’s mind or think. The goddess Moneta is modeled on the Greek goddess of memory, Mnemosyne. Contained in the power to remember is the ability to warn, so Moneta is also considered to be a goddess who can give warnings. To suggest money can affect us in different ways we might remember that the Greek words menos (which means spirit, courage, purpose) and mania (which means madness) come from the same root as memory and Moneta. Measurement, from the Indo-European root me-, also relates to mental abilities and is a crucial aspect of money. 95/ [Crawford relates the experience of a friend], a mother, whose only son suffered from drug addiction. … At last she overcame her motherly instincts and refused him a place to stay and food and money. [She gave him a resources list for dealing with addiction.] 98/ Even an addition, according to psychologist C.G. Jung, a form of spiritual craving. Jung expressed this viewpoint in correspondence with Bill Wilson (Bill W), the founder of Alcoholics Anonymous. 107/ The inner search is not a denial of our outer needs, but rather in part a way of learning the right attitudes and actions with which to deal with the outer world—including money and ownership. 114/ Maimonodes, Golden Ladder of Charity. [this list is from charitywatch.org] Maimonides, a 12th century Jewish scholar, invented the following ladder of giving. Each rung up represents a higher degree of virtue: 1. The lowest: Giving begrudgingly and making the recipient feel disgraced or embarrassed. 2. Giving cheerfully but giving too little. 3. Giving cheerfully and adequately but only after being asked. 4. Giving before being asked. 5. Giving when you do not know who is the individual benefiting, but the recipient knows your identity. 6. Giving when you know who is the individual benefiting, but the recipient does not know your identity. 7. Giving when neither the donor nor the recipient is aware of the other's identity. 8. The Highest: Giving money, a loan, your time or whatever else it takes to enable an individual to be self-reliant. 129/ Remember as this myth unfolds [Persephone] that we are speaking of inheritance in the larger sense. What we inherit is not merely money and only received at death, but it is everything, both good and bad, that we receive from our parents throughout our lifetime. When we examine such an inheritance, some of what we receive will be truly ours and worthwhile to keep. The rest we must learn to surrender if we are to get on with our own lives. 133/ As so happens, the child must deal with what the parent refuses to confront. 146/ Whether the parent is alive or dead, the child may believe some flaw in the parent has crippled and limited the child’s life. To become attached to this point of view is damaging, because the child fails to take responsibility for his or her own destiny.

One of the breakthrough insights of famed Swiss psychologist Carl Jung was his definition of psychological health. To paraphrase, Jung observed that everyone—every last one of us—has a gap between our perceived self and our actual self. There’s a gap between my perception of myself (who I think I am, how I think I come across, how I think others see me), and reality (who I really am, how I really come across, and how others actually see me). Psychological health, according to Jung, is narrowing the gap between my perceived self and my actual self as much as possible.2 That’s true for me. And it’s true for you. Kinda scary, huh? Of course, this gap between perceived and actual self is much easier to see in others. We are all painfully aware of the varying degrees of self-delusion our coworkers, friends, and family members carry within them. But even though that same delusion is present within us, we find it difficult to see. I’d argue spiritual health is a lot like that. Spiritual health is closing the gap between biblical rumor and actual life as narrowly as possible. Spiritual maturity is narrowing the gap between Kingdom promise and daily grind; between what I believe in my head and what I know in my heart, my emotions, and my bones; between the core beliefs I recite in creeds and sing in worship anthems and the core beliefs I live day in and day out. Spiritual health means that inevitable gap between the story on the page and the story of my life narrows and narrows like a door creaking shut on a dark room until there’s barely a blade of light left. The Holy Spirit is the experiential agent of the Trinitarian God, narrowing the gap between biblical promise and everyday experience and leading to greater spiritual health and maturity. Quiet crisis, loud crisis, or a combination of the two—everyone who attempts to follow Jesus without a deep, rich understanding of and relationship with the indwelling person, presence, and power of the Holy Spirit will one day be confronted by the gap—maybe the troublingly wide gap—between biblical rumor and actual life.

Should such an institution come into conflict with the organized State, it is soon made aware of the very real disadvantage of its morality and therefore feels compelled to avail itself of the same methods as its opponent. In this way the evil spreads almost of necessity, even when direct infection might be avoided.

  Shadow work is a profound practice of turning inward to meet the parts of ourselves we'd rather not see. Drawing from Carl Jung's groundbreaking psychological work, it's the practice of illuminating our hidden fears, buried insecurities, and unprocessed emotions that live quietly in our unconscious. When we bring these shadow aspects into awareness and learn to integrate them with compassion, we open pathways to authentic self-acceptance, deep healing, and meaningful transformation. Tarot becomes an invaluable companion on this inner journey. Rich with archetypal symbolism and layered meanings, the Tarot deck functions as both mirror and map, reflecting back what lies beneath the surface while guiding us through the landscape of our inner world. Each card we draw offers a doorway into unexplored territory, revealing truths about our shadow and lighting the way toward greater wholeness. When we bring Tarot into shadow work, the practice deepens in powerful ways. Here's how these cards can support your journey forward: Deepening Self-Inquiry: Drawing cards create natural pauses for reflection. Each spread invites us to sit with uncomfortable questions about what we fear, what we crave, and what truly drives us. This practice builds a bridge between our everyday awareness and the hidden dimensions of our psyche. Uncovering Unconscious Patterns: We all carry behavioral loops we don't fully recognize, patterns that shape our relationships and choices without our conscious consent. Tarot brings these cycles into view, helping us trace how past wounds continue to influence present circumstances. This recognition becomes the first step toward choosing differently. Exploring Emotional Complexity: Every card in the deck speaks to specific emotional and psychological territories. The Moon may surface our deepest anxieties and the illusions we cling to for safety, while the Tower confronts us with necessary disruption and the call to rebuild. Working with these archetypal energies helps us name and understand emotions we've struggled to articulate. Creating Space for Emotional Release: The cards offer a contained, sacred space where suppressed feelings can finally be acknowledged. When we give voice to what we've held back, we create movement where there was stagnation, opening ourselves to healing and building the emotional resilience that shadow work requires. Cultivating Radical Self-Acceptance: The heart of shadow work is integration, learning to embrace every facet of who we are, including the parts that shame us. Tarot holds space for this work with remarkable gentleness, offering insight without judgment. As we recognize our shadows not as flaws but as essential threads in the tapestry of our being, we develop a more loving, complete relationship with ourselves. My own journey with shadow work and Tarot has been nothing short of life-changing. The cards have helped me face aspects of myself I spent years avoiding, and each reading has offered opportunities for breakthrough, understanding, and genuine healing. This practice hasn't just expanded my self-awareness; it's fundamentally shifted how I relate to myself and others, deepening my capacity for empathy and compassion in ways I couldn't have imagined. If you're feeling the call to explore your own depths, I'd be honored to guide you. Together, we can use Tarot as a lantern in the darkness, bringing light to what's been hidden and helping you reconnect with your most authentic self. There's profound wholeness waiting to be discovered. Your journey toward integration and empowerment can begin today. More on : tarotthreads.org

  Shadow work is a profound practice of turning inward to meet the parts of ourselves we'd rather not see. Drawing from Carl Jung's groundbreaking psychological work, it's the practice of illuminating our hidden fears, buried insecurities, and unprocessed emotions that live quietly in our unconscious. When we bring these shadow aspects into awareness and learn to integrate them with compassion, we open pathways to authentic self-acceptance, deep healing, and meaningful transformation. Tarot becomes an invaluable companion on this inner journey. Rich with archetypal symbolism and layered meanings, the Tarot deck functions as both mirror and map, reflecting back what lies beneath the surface while guiding us through the landscape of our inner world. Each card we draw offers a doorway into unexplored territory, revealing truths about our shadow and lighting the way toward greater wholeness. When we bring Tarot into shadow work, the practice deepens in powerful ways. Here's how these cards can support your journey forward: Deepening Self-Inquiry: Drawing cards create natural pauses for reflection. Each spread invites us to sit with uncomfortable questions about what we fear, what we crave, and what truly drives us. This practice builds a bridge between our everyday awareness and the hidden dimensions of our psyche. Uncovering Unconscious Patterns: We all carry behavioral loops we don't fully recognize, patterns that shape our relationships and choices without our conscious consent. Tarot brings these cycles into view, helping us trace how past wounds continue to influence present circumstances. This recognition becomes the first step toward choosing differently. Exploring Emotional Complexity: Every card in the deck speaks to specific emotional and psychological territories. The Moon may surface our deepest anxieties and the illusions we cling to for safety, while the Tower confronts us with necessary disruption and the call to rebuild. Working with these archetypal energies helps us name and understand emotions we've struggled to articulate. Creating Space for Emotional Release: The cards offer a contained, sacred space where suppressed feelings can finally be acknowledged. When we give voice to what we've held back, we create movement where there was stagnation, opening ourselves to healing and building the emotional resilience that shadow work requires. Cultivating Radical Self-Acceptance: The heart of shadow work is integration, learning to embrace every facet of who we are, including the parts that shame us. Tarot holds space for this work with remarkable gentleness, offering insight without judgment. As we recognize our shadows not as flaws but as essential threads in the tapestry of our being, we develop a more loving, complete relationship with ourselves. My own journey with shadow work and Tarot has been nothing short of life-changing. The cards have helped me face aspects of myself I spent years avoiding, and each reading has offered opportunities for breakthrough, understanding, and genuine healing. This practice hasn't just expanded my self-awareness; it's fundamentally shifted how I relate to myself and others, deepening my capacity for empathy and compassion in ways I couldn't have imagined. If you're feeling the call to explore your own depths, I'd be honored to guide you. Together, we can use Tarot as a lantern in the darkness, bringing light to what's been hidden and helping you reconnect with your most authentic self. There's profound wholeness waiting to be discovered. Your journey toward integration and empowerment can begin today.