When I was a youngster, there were no television sets in people's homes. For regular entertainment, we read, went to the movies, or listened to the radio. Some of the weekly evening radio serials were exciting, such as "I Love a Mystery" with the characters Jack, Doc, and Reggie; "The Shadow," the cognomen of Lamont Cranston; and "The Lone Ranger". These half-hour dramas captivated us, as did the films we saw. Once my folks could afford it, after I was about seven or eight years old, we generally went to the movies once a week. We paid ten cents to see a movie on Saturday afternoon, and for that dime we were treated to two films, a cartoon, a newsreel, and an episode of an ongoing serial, such as "Batman" or "Superman." In addition to all of these, there were the books at school, books full of stories, sometimes read to us by teachers and sometimes read by us either in the classroom or at home. Dramas came at us and to us from many directions.

            Where do all these dramas originate? Someone has to create and record them. Where else could they arise other than from someone's imagination? If that is so, then a drama must represent corresponding interactivity within the creator of the drama. That implies what C.G. Jung proposed: that our minds contain sub-personalities; these are archetypal[Footnote 1] representations or images. From that hypothesis, it is not too great a step to consider that, not only are internal (mental) interactions among the archetypes portrayed in created externalized dramas, such as in books, movies, plays, operas and ballets, but they play themselves out in inner dramas - both while we are awake and in dreams. I propose that such dramas are going on within all of us all the time, except, perhaps, when we are in a very deep dreamless sleep.

            The inner drama involves interactions among two or more images that represent archetypes of the unconscious. While each drama is unique to the person experiencing it at the moment it is happening, it also has a generally human meaning, since the components of the drama are common to the human condition. Consequently, each drama can be understood as an archetypal pattern that can be found in everyone. For example, images of the Madonna and child correspond to the universal experience of a loving, nurturing interaction that can occur between the inner Mother and the inner Child. As another example, given that an individual can experience attacks by the Dragon of overwhelming anger; then that same archetype can very likely attack anyone else. Also, since the hero in one person's psyche can be aroused to find the solution to a problem, then the inner Hero in anyone can generally also be aroused to do the same for them. Any drama experienced by any person is a human drama, and consequently can normally exist for every other member of our species. Nevertheless, each of us must deal with what seems unique and personal at each moment in our lives. We are not directly privy to that which is common to all of humanity, and, especially when we suffer, we often feel very much alone with our pain.

            When someone talks to me, I attempt to pay attention to two sets of dramas that are happening simultaneously. I focus on the characters and their interactions activated within myself. And I listen to the person speaking to me, seeking to hear their inner drama that might be giving rise to what they say and how they express themselves. For example, the comment "I hate myself" implies a cast of two: a subject and an object, the hater and the hated, even though the words imply that the individual identifies with both. But if being hated causes a person unwanted pain, it does not make sense that the person would choose voluntarily to continue doing what causes them to suffer. If I am hating myself and I don't like it, then I can just stop. But why did I do it in the first place? The only rational explanation for the unwanted condition is that there is a hater and a hated. The former hates some characteristic of the person, and the person has an inherent or learned quality that is detestable to the hater. To experience this comment as an inner drama, it would be more accurate to hear the line as, "I hate you."

            Examples of other comments that imply a dual cast are "I am a nice person," "I never do anything right," and "I have talent." (These can be translated into the dramatic dialogues, "You are a nice person," "You never do anything right," and "You have talent.") In each of these there is the object (the person, "I") plus either the inner Judge or the Critic. The Judge evaluates coolly based on evidence. In the first and third of these comments, if the word "nice" or "talent" is well defined and evidence holds the person to satisfy the definition's criteria, then stating "I am a nice person" or "I have talent" communicates what amounts to a simple fact. Usually, however, these terms are not well defined, and the criteria for evaluating niceness or talent are arbitrary. The Critic revels in arbitrary standards, and he might make a seemingly positive judgment as a way of preparing the stage for a big fall when the Critic attacks with "You're not nice. You may have acted nice once or twice, but see what you just did? Deep inside, you haven't a nice bone in your body!" The same kind of build up and attack could apply to the comment "I have talent." The second actor in the second comment is clearly the Critic. The words "never" and "always" give the Critic away, since they apply absolute judgments when immediate evidence contradicts the comment. For example, the person who is being told, "You never do anything right" probably has been able to stand or sit without falling over or breathe and feed themselves successfully since birth or shortly thereafter.

            As the person amplifies statements involving a cast of two, other members of the dramatis personae reveal themselves. Consider the comment, "I hate myself because I never do anything right, and therefore, no one will ever care about me." This sentence implies the presence of four members of the cast: (1) The object (the person, "myself"); (2) The hater (which could be the inner Child) who says, "I hate you" (perhaps "because you didn't give me what I want"); (3) the Critic who says, "You never do anything right" (implying "You never take care of the Child adequately"), who judges that the person "never" does anything that satisfies an arbitrary set of standards of "right"ness; and (4) The Witch (as self-appointed seer), who says, "No one will ever care about you." The Witch invariably 'knows', without a shadow of a doubt, what is going to happen in the future. If there is an added comment, such as "I should never have been born" or "I am worthless" or "I am full of shame," then a fifth character is the dark aspect of the Mother archetype, that quality of the inner Mother whose womb is cold and unwelcoming, or even worse, poisonous. It is she who makes statements such as, "You are worthless and should never have been born."

            A drama probably lies behind every non-instinctual reaction we humans have, including emotions. (The following discussion of emotions excludes all unlearned, instinctual reactions.) Consider fear. I am not alone in defining fear as a response to a fantasy (an imagined occurrence) of a future threat. If we examine ourselves carefully, we will discover the precise nature of that fantasy. We fear a snake because we imagine it will sink its fangs into us and fill us with its poison, causing either our death or much pain and discomfort. We fear electric wires because they might (we imagine they will) electrocute us. We fear the dark because something awful might be out there and attack us. To be more accurate, we fear the dark because we imagine something awful is out there and will cause us harm. What or who in us creates images of what might or will happen? It surely is not the ego ("Not I"), since most of us would prefer not to experience pain or discomfort.

            Since fear is associated with an image of a predicted event, I propose the hypothesis that all interpreted fear involves the archetype of the Witch. In arousing fear, the Witch acts the seer who foretells only doom and gloom. (The Witch can also initiate personal damage or even death by telling us - in a truly dangerous or fatal situation -- that everything will be just fine and we don't have anything to be concerned about.) The insecure inner Child -- not the heroic part of us - is the complex that becomes infected by the Witch. The Hero in us can evaluate the situation and differentiate between real danger and our instinctual fear reaction. The hero archetype does not carry the kind of fear discussed above. Stated simply, the Hero ACTS courageously, accepts risks with responsibility, and does whatever must be done for the sake of wholeness (God's will), even if the act results in death. Fear is irrelevant to the Hero.

            In hero tales involving a witch (such as "The Two Brothers," "Hansel and Gretel" and "Jorinda and Joringel"), the heroic character either kills, disables, or finds a way to evade the witch. That symbolizes our dislodging or depotentiating the inner part of us that tries to convince us that something specific WILL happen in the future. The constructive, guiding inner Father directs our attention to past experiences that can help us estimate what is LIKELY to happen, given a variety of possible relevant actions and their various conceivable contingencies. Considering God's uncertainty of Job's piety and Satan's effortless ability to influence God in "The Book of Job," it appears that even God cannot foretell the future with absolute certainty. The inner Witch tries to convince us that she can do better. We don't have to fall for it.

            Anger is another agitating emotion. We refer to the inherent, instinctual part of anger as frustration. Frustration seems to exist in all forms of life. But the interpretation of what frustrates us is learned, and the ability to make such interpretations appears to me to lie solely within homo sapiens. Let us examine some common anger-arousing situations. A person asks to borrow your lawn mower, and you get angry that the request was made. You think, "Get your own d---- lawnmower!" There are two possible primary dramas that might lie behind this scenario. First, the inner Father (the rule-maker) in his negative[Footnote 2] form, is saying, "If someone wants something from you, you should be nice and do it for them," while the Child is feeling, "I don't want to!" In this situation, we feel the anger of the frustrated Child, who is directed by daddy to do what he doesn't want to do. The Child blames the requestor for putting him in this conflicting predicament. Missing here is the positive[Footnote 2] aspect of the Father that can set limits based on experience, so that one can freely say either yes or no, a decision that then rests on clearly definable reasons. The other possible drama that could give rise to the scenario involves the shadow complex, that part of ourselves that we reject and unwittingly keep hidden in the recesses of our unconscious. In this situation, there is a part of us that wants to be able to ask others for help, but the negative Father has taught the Child in us that borrowing is a no-no. Both the ego and shadow have implicitly adopted that arbitrary rule without evaluating it. The shadow within us longs to be able to ask others for help, but cannot; it is blocked by the one-sided ego. Hence the anger rests on the generalized principle that borrowing is morally wrong. The other person has done something wrong/bad, and we feel angrily indignant. But underneath the anger lies envy and the hidden feeling, "I wish I could do that." It is as if there were a deeply unconscious Child who pouts, "If I can't do it, you shouldn't either."

            For the inner drama to come alive, we need clear images of the characters (archetypes or "complexes") that make up the cast, just as we do when we read a novel or view a movie or play. While the portrayed personalities can seem to be as complex as ourselves, as in biographies, we can analyze the complexes activated in a particular scenario by examining the component parts operating at that time. Such an analysis implies that each basic component of the personality ultimately has a specific set of describable, unique, immutable characteristics.

            Consider the Child complex. There are many facets of the inner Child, some of whose general characteristics are dependency, naiveté, gullibility, self-centeredness, need to be cared for, security-seeking, inability to differentiate between wants and needs, and difficulty delaying gratification - the inner Child wants what it wants and it wants it NOW. The "positive" aspect of the Child knows enthusiasm, experiences awe and excitement at newness, is attracted to what appears to be potential fun, and enjoys that which gives pleasure; this aspect of the Child lies behind our having fun, knowing joy, and participating in the excitement of creativity. The negative aspect of the Child knows no fun or joy and is easily aroused to anger and frustration; as the victimized Child, it is needy, avoids responsibility, complains or pouts, feels put-upon or abused, blames others, and cannot comprehend sacrifice.

            The inner Mother lies within the feminine complex, which has to do with beingness, receptivity and the yin principle. She has both positive and negative forms. The Mother archetype in general concerns issues of child caring and nurturing. The positive Mother supports, affirms, values the child's unique qualities, and in general, does whatever is necessary to implant in the child the feeling of being welcome in the world, wanted, and special. The negative Mother can have several identifiable forms: she can be neglectful and unavailable, implying to the child that she wants nothing to do with him/her; she can smother the child with her presence, implying the child's individuality is somehow bound up with her and cannot express its uniqueness; or she can actively poison the child with words and actions, leading to feelings of unworthiness and the sense that, as an anomaly, s/he should not have been born. The negative Mother is the complex behind feelings of shame. The positive Mother is the complex behind positive self-valuing.

            The masculine complex has to do with action, penetration, discrimination, and the yang principle. The Father lies within that complex and also has both positive and negative forms. The Father archetype in general concerns the making and enforcing of laws, discipline, and evaluation of action. The positive inner Father guides and encourages about courses of action, discriminates without judging or criticizing (in a down-putting sense), aids self-discipline through setting limits and providing appropriate consequences; he teaches that "to err is human" and that perseverance in itself is valuable and does not insist on success. The negative Father uses words like "should", "ought-to", "supposed-to", "too" (such as in "too much" or "too few" or "too selfish"), and "enough" (such as, "you're not clear enough" or "you don't work hard enough"), as ways of putting down the child for what s/he has done, is doing or is planning to do. In that way, he criticizes and judges actions negatively. The negative Father is the complex behind feelings of guilt and self-recriminations; he focuses on the child's weaknesses. The positive Father is the complex behind stimulation of curiosity, feelings of self-confidence and acceptance of one's behaviors, including one's mistakes; he focuses on the child's strengths and efforts.

            Another name for the critical, judgmental negative Father is "Critic." He has appeared very frequently in my own psyche and in the inner dramas of practically everyone I have seen in my practice. He can demean or denigrate anything and everything we do. Some people walk around feeling guilty for everything they do, including listening to and believing the Critic when he puts them down. Yes, the Critic frequently gives an extra jab to the gut by also deriding/criticizing us for listening to him denigrating us!

            The inner hero is the courageous, independent part of us that takes responsibility and does whatever is necessary to maintain optimum harmony and integrity ("wholeness"). This complex accepts that risks must be taken to accomplish anything and that all action involves sacrifice. (See my book, Hero or Victim?).

            A paragraph or more could be written to describe the characteristics of every component of the human personality. Such an undertaking would fill volumes, because every definable experience arises out of an inner complex that enables us to have that experience. There is a human archetype for everything we are capable of experiencing, and an image provides a form for the archetype (which presumably is more complex than any image and inherently unknowable). To convey the idea of the number of archetypes we humans contain, consider that there is an archetype behind our experience of 'old man' and 'old woman'; the male and female adolescent; criminal (of all kinds and of both sexes); angel; witch; ogre; dragon; elf; fairy; each of the Greek, Roman, Egyptian, et al gods (including the Judeo-Christian God and Satan); dances of all kinds; house, apartment, warehouse and all other kinds of containing structures; plants of every kind; animals of every kind, every single definable (kind of) object; mountains, ravines, cliffs, and other Earth formations; rain, snow, and all other weather conditions; all celestial elements, such as sun, moon, stars, etc.; and anything else that we can conceive. If we can name, define or describe something, then it must have a representation within us that enables us to grasp its meaning. As the Taos Indian Chief once said to Jung, "If we can see the sun, we must have a bit of the sun in our own eyes."

            Some people may find it odd to analyze a drama involving animals, plants, or inanimate objects, but in our human minds anything can be personified. At least it can for me, and I know I am not alone. As an introverted and very withdrawn child, I spent as much time as I could by myself in touch with my imagination. I found comfort in making friends with such things in the world as ants, trees, rocks, clouds, flowers, cars, and traffic lights and with such fictional characters as elves, giants, Frankenstein's "monster," Jiminy Cricket and Superman. The almost constant inner dialogues with these various parts of myself brought them alive, and were an important source of support and strength, in contrast with the abusive outer world which kept pulling me down. It was also helpful in my psychological development, and more recently when I had problems with my heart, to hear my heart tell me, "I'm sick. Something is not right here. I need help." That led to the angiographic discovery of a clogged cardiac artery and a consequent angioplasty. Perhaps not all children experience inner dramas and carry on dialogues with personified real and fantasized objects, but with practice, adults can learn to do it through attentiveness and practice. Developing a relationship with sub-personalities makes the inner drama come alive, and one of the most effective ways to do that is through conducting inner dialogues. Jung coined the term "active imagination" to describe these dialogues. I understand active imagination to be the conscious interaction between the witnessing ego and other complexes of the personality. The Witness, is the complex in us that observes, evaluates, and explores as objectively as is humanly possible, without judgment or emotion.

            While awareness of the inner drama is not itself a form of active imagination, that awareness can serve as an impetus to it. And the value of active imagination has been discussed not only by Jung himself, but also by many Jungian analysts, such as Barbara Hannah and Marie Louise von Franz. Other psychological theorists have also adopted inner dialogue as a therapeutic technique. Ultimately, the inner parts of ourselves can reveal and teach us about hidden processes going on within ourselves, so that we can, through consciousness and relearning, find more effective and rewarding ways of functioning. For example, I had this experience: I was about to take a shower when the thought came to me (an inner complex said) that I had forgotten to perform a task that would best not be postponed. (This was a set-up by a devilish inner imp.) I asked my wife if she would please do it for me, and she said she would. I had just finished washing my hair, when the irritating impish voice whispered to me, "I'll bet she hasn't done it!" Still soaking wet, I stepped out of the shower to find out if she had carried out my wishes. As I did that, a good inner friend (John, whom I knew well) shouted, "You WANT to find out that she didn't do it!" I froze. Then I returned to the shower stunned in the awareness that that was absolutely true; the hurt Child in me expected her to betray me and wanted to verify that, like my mother, my wife was unreliable and had failed to take care of my needs. In my dialogues with the Child, I was able to convince him that my wife wasn't the enemy; the devil is. And the world was not going to fall apart if the task were not done just then or even if the task were not done at all! The drama arose from the Self -- the inner urge toward wholeness -- to bring about a conscious awareness of both the learned inner hurtful complex that arose out of a dysfunctional childhood and the healing complex that can set things straight.

            An awareness of the inner drama - and especially becoming actively involved in it -- can help prevent maladaptive behaviors and childhood-based disorders from persisting into and throughout adulthood. When the ego cannot separate and confront inner processes, they affect our feelings and actions without our being aware of them. When we can separate and recognize what is going on, we can at least be sufficiently aware to know that we are in the grips of something beyond our will, and either find a way of dealing with it or find help. An alcoholic whose addiction is learned or environmentally based can become aware of the inner Child that wants to run away from emotional pain and responsibility. Or, if alcoholism has a genetic basis, the alcoholic can experience the needy genes as a personified 'other' demanding satisfaction. In developing awareness of the inner drama, the former alcoholic can work on internal reparenting or relearning ways to support and guide the inner Child in its struggles. If there is a genetic basis, medical aid may be helpful. Alcoholics anonymous and psychotherapy offer support and guidance for both forms of addiction. The conclusion we can draw is that behind the addiction lies an inner drama and not a hopeless, permanent condition.

            The entertainment industry depends on our being drawn to the externalized drama. A book, play, or movie represents not only a drama within the individual who created it, but also a drama that could be occurring within every other human. When we are emotionally affected by an external drama, whether we are attracted to or repelled by it, then it corresponds to a drama that is active within us, whether we are conscious of it or not. Movies, plays and books that achieve widespread popularity attest to our recognizing (albeit, without our necessarily being aware of it) a reflection of what is or has been going on within ourselves. The external drama can help bring the inner processes into perspective when we consciously recognize an issue within ourselves. When that occurs, we can more readily work on a resolution of that issue.

            For example, in my classes at U.C.L.A. on the value of myths and fairy tales for understanding the human psyche, I often told the story of "Rapunzel," the girl trapped in a tower by a sorceress until she was released after meeting with a heroic prince. The story was analyzed as an inner drama, and one of my students saw how part of her was trapped (like Rapunzel) in a role she felt her family foisted upon her. Of course, the role she adopted was one of her own unconscious choosing. The story helped her discover and recognize a heroic part of herself that could rescue her from the self-imposed mold. From that point on, her attitude changed and her life expanded.

            Another student was deeply affected by the analysis of the emerging hero's early development illustrated in Hans Christian Andersen's "Big Klaus and Little Klaus." In the story, the student gained insight into herself and her relationship with her young son. She had vehemently, but vainly, tried to squelch the boy's assertive behavior, fearing that he would do harm. What she really feared was the potentially destructive masculine part of herself, and she projected that onto her son. Through the story, she recognized the heroic aspect in herself and in her boy; she could then see how his particular way of expressing masculine assertiveness could be - and usually was -- constructive and rewarding.

            More often, it is my observation that people do not consciously make the association between external dramas and inner ones. If the personality's development is stuck, we will tend to have recurring dreams, be driven to read a story over and over, or re-view a movie repeatedly. Years ago, I read in the newspaper about a woman who saw the film "Star Wars" over 500 times, and that was not very long after the film had been released! What was so compelling for her? Well, I never met the woman, but my guess is that she had a heroic part of her that needed to be recognized and activated. I imagine that she vainly clung to the external image of the hero but remained unconscious of the hero within her. If my hypothesis is correct, the hero for her continued to remain "out there"; she could recognize when someone else acted heroically, but she herself couldn't. I wonder what part of her needed rescuing.

            Children, and very often adults as well, tend to identify with the underdog. I suspect that that tendency is strong in us because we spend many years-our formative years, at that -- in childhood. During that time we are subject to the whims, needs, and demands of authoritative adults.

            Identification occurs when the ego attaches itself to a particular archetype, so that we feel as if the image associated with that archetype represents who we are, rather than seeing ourselves as a complex human being with a multitude of possible ways of functioning. Presumably, all archetypes associated with being human are in all of us. We ARE not any one of them. Theoretically, with exercise and practice, we can access each of them according to which one is relevant to the life situation at any moment. But before we can do that, we must discover them in ourselves - that is, they must be differentiated out of the massa confusa (lit. "the confused mass" of contents) of the unconscious. Based on inner work that I have done, it is my hypothesis that the ego is identified with one or another of the archetypes all the time. However, consciousness enables us to choose which one provides us with the optimal qualities that enable us to deal with life's conditions of the moment. Ideally, our choices would flow fluidly from one archetype to another in a constant harmonic relationship with conditions in the universe. That may sound abstract, but the idea is to maintain wholeness in all situations. In practice, this is an ideal that each of us can strive for, but the unconscious is so large that it seems extremely unlikely that anyone has ever differentiated its entire contents in one lifetime. Whatever is not differentiated usually takes over fairly easily, and we fall into an unconscious state, at least periodically. THAT'S NORMAL!

            Through inner and outer dramas, we not only can recognize interactions between complexes we DO know about, but we can also discover unfamiliar ones that pop in unexpectedly. Recognizing them and working with them - through dialog, for example - enables us to differentiate them so that we can have a conscious relationship with them. The process of differentiating the multitude of inner complexes/archetypes is an extensive one. We can do it through persistent attentiveness to our inner processes, especially if we can view the world as a mirror that reflects back to us our constant projections into it. Sometimes observing friends and relatives can constructively reflect what they see of our unconscious behavior to us. And, of course, it is precisely the goal of analysis - especially Jungian analysis - to guide us in differentiating the contents of the unconscious and identifying the inner drama.

            Most dialogues, both inner and outer, involve words that pass between discussants. Essentially, words are sounds created by the vocal chords, tongue, lips and teeth, or they can be defined as a succession of one or more characters or letters. The sounds, in and of themselves, carry no meaning. Consequently, each of us must contain an Interpreter who assigns meaning to the sounds (or string of letters) directed at us. The Interpreter also has the task of creating expressions that represent what we intend to convey when we are the communicator. But the Interpreter must have a basis for his translations, just as a word must be given meaning by the language in which it is created. For example, ding in English refers to the sound a bell makes, whereas in German it means "thing;" pays in English is defined as "remunerates," whereas in French it means "country."

            The Interpreter translates according to the characteristics of the archetype functioning at the moment of interpretation. For example, take the situation in which two people are talking, and one says to the other, "I'm thirsty." If the listener's ego is connected with the caring inner Mother, that comment might be interpreted as, "Please get me a glass of water," and the response might be, "Just a moment, I'll be right back with a glass of water." If it is the listener's guilty Child that is activated, the message received might be, "It's your fault that I'm thirsty," and the reaction might be, "Oh, I didn't realize; I'm so insensitive," or "It's not my fault; no one told me it was my responsibility to keep you from getting thirsty." The inner Father is likely to hear from the speaker, "What should (or can) I do about my being thirsty?" and respond with a set of instructions, such as, "Take a cup from the cupboard and pour yourself some water from the tap in the kitchen."

            The important message here is that each of us assigns meaning to the sounds or words directed toward us, and it does not follow that each of us assigns the same meaning to the exact same sounds or words. And we may interpret the very same sounds or words differently at different times.

            Considering that the Interpreter is involved in all communication, that archetype must be included in any analysis of the inner drama. From that statement, I conclude that the inner Analyst must consider any interpreted meaning as a hypothesis and not an absolute certainty. Doubt can be our savior, when it comes to potential misinterpretations and rigidity of opinions and beliefs.

FOOTNOTES

1. Jung postulates our "collective unconscious," which is that part of the unconscious common to all humans. Archetypes comprise the contents of this "collective unconscious" (which Jung later called "the objective psyche"). Archetypes can be understood as organs of the psyche, analogous to bodily organs, such as the heart, liver, glands, skin, etc. Normally, we all contain the same physical organs, each one having its unique function in the human being. Each definable archetype also has its unique function, but no observable structure. We cannot see an archetype directly, but we can experience its function in our own and others' behavior. RETURN

2. The terms "positive" and "negative" when applied to the archetypal images have no implication of "good" or "bad." In Nature, they just ARE. These terms represent the ego's attitude toward them. "Positive" archetypes have directly constructive effects on the personality, while "negative" ones tend toward dissolution and breakdown, which feels awful to the ego. However, when the personality has formed adaptations preventing or avoiding a constructive, harmonious development, "negative" effects serve to help dissolve the maladaptation, opening the way for a more desirable development. In this example, becoming aware of the irrelevance (to the Child's feelings) of the negative Father's admonitions opens the door for the positive Father to come to consciousness.RETURN