Training as Jungian Analyst or YOUngian

Journey of a Jungian Analyst?

The journey of being a Jungian Analyst, Analytical Psychologist, Depth Psychologist, or downright a modern shaman is a roller coaster. One moment you might be savouring the grapes with Greek gods, and the next wrestling the darkest demons of the underworld. All this to say that it is a journey of a lifetime—an initiation—with possibilities to experience wider horizons than one can imagine. But with greater awareness and appreciation of life’s wonders comes a deeper relation to the evil and darkness that surround us. Is it worth it?

TL;DR – YES! But with a caveat.

Requirements

Personal analysis — 300 hours at least.
In order to graduate, one has to complete at least 300 hours of personal analysis. Anyone who has been in analysis can tell you that it is no easy journey. Facing one’s darkness and evil is by no means a stroll in the park. And I don’t mean facing it in a passive way. As far as I’m aware, those training to become analysts are expected to go deep—actively engaging with unconscious material and integrating it.

I suppose one could sit in a chair for 300 hours and just nod or casually chat. But would you really want to spend that time and money and not tap into the hidden treasures behind darkness, fear, and resistance?

This reminds me of a quote: You can’t take someone where you haven’t been yourself.
Which implies that you really have to get your hands dirty—continuously—if you wish to do this kind of work. And if you feel like you have faced your darkness, there is certainly more. It never really ends.

Classes.
Jungian analysts are expected to go through at least 400 hours of lectures and seminars (combined). If you think lectures and seminars are purely theoretical, I must surprise you. Besides extensive theory, there are many somatic, experiential, and creative elements.

Seminars on trauma can get most hearts beating faster, as we are exposed to difficult material. Sometimes we enact scenarios through role play, which can feel just as real. Sometimes we dance, sing, draw, and even engage in ritual-like practices (shamanism, in other words). Not because it is trendy, but because these practices open us to the workings of the unconscious, which speaks in metaphors, images, and symbols.

By expressing it, we not only experience its potency, but also learn how to facilitate such expression in others.

Supervision and Case Colloquia (a mouthful—essentially group supervision) take us further down the rabbit hole. Attention shifts from oneself to the other (the client), while still maintaining awareness of one’s own processes.

The exploration of the unconscious is supported by more experienced analysts, who help identify our biases and projections in the work, while also offering perspectives we may not see ourselves. This deepens our own journey.

This is also where humility develops. Analysts in training will make mistakes, and how they respond to them will, in my opinion, shape who they become.

Writing and Reading.
One thing is clear—you will need to spend a significant portion of your time reading and writing: symbol papers, case reports, and a thesis.

The recommended literature list is long. If I were to estimate, it might approach 1000 books. Spread over five years, that would mean around 200 books per year—which sounds less like a curriculum and more like a lifetime reading list.

All of this is intense—full of opportunities to meet oneself in its darkest glory.

But I also notice another, quieter allure.

By following the training requirements, we also follow someone else’s prescribed path. Of course, we can choose the colours, the flavours, the detours—but the core remains. If one is not careful, this path can begin to feel like destiny—where our own unique path becomes the path of a Jungian Analyst.

What about a YOUngian path?

Isn’t individuation—beyond becoming “whole” (if that is even possible)—about finding one’s own unique path, belonging, and expression in this world?

If I compare humans to trees in a forest, each has its own shape. What makes a forest beautiful is that asymmetry—that difference. A forest of identical trees would feel strange.

So why do we drift toward being shaped by someone else’s framework? In this case, Jung—or those who came after him? Not in the sense that we become Jung—that would be impossible—but in the sense that training can quietly impose standards that begin to feel like uniformity.

Practice then risks turning into a kind of recipe—something to follow—rather than a step toward one’s own unfolding, guided by the unconscious.

At times, I feel that even the Jungian frame can interfere with this unfolding. We move too quickly to interpret dreams, assign meanings, and analyse—interrupting processes that might otherwise unfold on their own. Instead of letting them live, we contain them.

And perhaps this is the deeper question: what happens when we resist the urge to understand? When we allow the unconscious to move without interpretation, without control?

It might be that this very not-knowing is the more potent catalyst for transformation.

And from that place, why not become our own YOUngians—finding our own path while using Jung’s work as a reference point, rather than something to replicate?

And perhaps, in doing so, awareness of our differences in shape and form might become the very wholeness we seek.

This might sound ironic coming from someone in the middle of training.

But if you’ve read my previous post, you’ll know what brought me here. Not the pursuit of becoming a Jungian Analyst, but a deep desire to explore the unconscious, Mystery, Soul, and Magic—and to discover what works for me and what does not.

I have had wondrous experiences with medicine men and women around the world. Their ways are magical, unconventional, and deeply healing. At the same time, I am having meaningful experiences within the Jungian Institute—equally profound, but in different ways.

One thing I’ve observed, especially among indigenous practitioners, is that they follow their own path. They may apprentice under someone for a time, but eventually, they must apprentice to the Mystery itself.

Each has to go and find their own way—guided by the unconscious into a unique expression that only they can embody.

And I wonder how much of that guidance is present within Jungian training.

It certainly exists within the YOUngian path—but it is a dangerous, unknown, uncertain, and often unpleasant one. Even Jung chose that path when he stepped away from Freud and allowed himself to be guided by the unconscious.

Does one need some separation from the norm to follow one’s true path?

I lean toward yes.

Does that mean leaving training halfway?

I don’t think so.

There are useful things here. But it can also become a trap, where the discomfort of finding oneself is traded for the comfort of the consulting chair.

Maybe for some, training becomes part of individuation. Maybe for others, it becomes its substitute. I hope the journey doesn’t end there.

One thing is clear: through this training, we will pick up many useful skills that may support our further journey into becoming YOUngians.

YOUngian (my made-up concept) — an authentic, unique expression of oneself, discovered through arduous journeys guided by the unconscious, in order to find one’s unique place in the world.

So enjoy the journey. Stay curious, aware, and grounded.