What is this wholeness that Jungians talk about of which the Self is the ordering principle? How is it different from perfection? We cannot talk about wholeness without also talking about individuation, “Jung called the journey toward wholeness the ‘process of individuation’” (Storr, 1983, p. 19). Jung wrote (CW 9i, paras. 489-524): “I use the term ‘individuation’ to denote the process by which a person becomes a psychological ‘in-dividual,’ that is, a separate, indivisible unity or ‘whole’” (in Storr, 1983, p. 212). Becoming a whole individual means we are held together by the Self, which is the mediating archetype of both the conscious and unconscious. We cannot be conscious of the unconscious factors, but we can be conscious that the unconscious factors have at least as much sway over our lives as our ego consciousness does, and I believe probably much more. Wholeness and totality occur in a well-developed personality where the ego is conscious of the unconscious in the psyche as a co-determining factor in one’s life. One is mature enough to develop as an individual—separate from the collective—and recognize that one is more than one’s own ego-consciousness. Storr elaborated:
The self, of which the mandala is a symbol, is the archetype of unity and totality…. Jung believed that only exceptional individuals reached the peaks of individual development. Individuation means parting company with the crowd; and this at first accentuates loneliness, and may seem alarming. Most human beings are content to remain safely with the majority. (p. 20)
I have certainly found this to be a painfully lonely path, but I now recognize that is part of the source of the longing for romantic relationship, which has been the catalyst for the journey—it all fits together.
The quest for wholeness involves taking into account all those neglected parts of one’s personality: one may be predominantly introverted and need to develop her extraversion, for example, as well as working toward developing awareness of areas that have be pushed away into shadow. Jung wrote (CW 9i, paras. 489-524): “The whole must necessarily include not only consciousness but the illimitable field of unconscious occurrences as well, and that the ego can be no more than the centre of the field of consciousness” (in Storr, 1983, p. 213). Although the ego has dominion over consciousness, Jung did not believe there was a center that was the ego-equivalent that had dominion over the unconscious. On the contrary, he found it unlikely because of the chaotic nature and “unsystematic form” that the unconscious phenomena manifest. Here we can suggest that the archetypes all vie for their position while the poor ego center can feel quite bandied about. The Self, Jung suggested, was the center point between the conscious and unconscious.
Perfection, on the other hand, really has very little to do with wholeness and is actually antithetical to it. One cannot be whole if one is striving for perfection. Perfection is only one pole—the bright, shiny, “everything is wonderful” pole. Imperfection—in fact, all the painful icky inferiorities that trigger our complexes and are the things we tend to want to reject about ourselves—is required for wholeness. Wholeness includes all of who we are. Everything that makes us fabulous wonderful women, as well as everything that we consider pathologies: jealousy, neediness, insecurity, and the like. In engaging with the wild woman, it is necessary that we get over our pursuit of perfection and our desire to transcend all of the painful emotions, pathologies, and suffering, and we engage with our earthy humanness. It is interesting to follow the etymology: humus (composted soil, earth, ground) is the Latin root of human, humble, humility, and humor—it reminds us of our origins, “ashes to ashes and dust to dust.” We are not gods and goddesses, but we are the vessels where they can be seen as they live out through us. Rumi captured what it means not to be alone in one’s own house in his poem “The Guest House”:
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.
Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.
The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.
Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.
(Trans. 2001, p. 109)
This is poetry of individuation—coming to know all those who arrive at our house and how we do well to treat each as a noble guest. As gracious hosts, we are guided toward wholeness.