When Reality Hits

After a period of infatuation with the studies of analytical psychology at ISAP Zurich, I came to a few realizations. Or perhaps the realizations came to me.

Before I move to my realizations, I want to begin with the reason why I came to Zurich to study Analytical Psychology. It all started on one dark evening, a long time ago, when I was a small child, wandering in Lithuanian forests, stargazing, living in a world of Magic and Mystery, beauty and wonder.

I was enveloped by mystery from a young age, perhaps because I had the opportunity to be surrounded by a natural landscape—still somewhat wild, but already touched by man and his greed. It didn’t last long. When fairytales ceased at night, the forests were cut, and the Magic slowly faded in the concrete jungle of the city.

Yet something stayed—a spark, a memory, a seed—that remained dormant for over a decade, while collective duties were ever-present and dues were demanded. I lived by the book, or at least I tried, until I could no longer. And the dormant seed began to sprout, reminding me of the Magic and Mystery I had forgotten. It called me at night, in wild places, in scary places. It took time for me to nourish this Call, this Presence, this Mystery.

The very same Mystery that demanded to be heard, to be leveled with—and how could I not? But years of collective servitude had done their damage. It blurred my vision, distorted my scent, worsened my hearing and sense of smell. I struggled to hear the voice of Mystery, the sound of my Soul. Yet the damage was not irreversible. With time, patience, attunement, nature, and of course—suffering—I slowly sharpened my senses.

My senses led me on an adventure into the world of the unconscious: the realm of the dead, the realm of darkness and infinite beauty. My journey continued in the sacred lands of Scotland, where I explored depths calling me from another, more secret world. After that, I knew I could no longer continue my life the way I had. I could no longer work in IT at a desk, behind a screen, for a large corporate company that had forgotten any sense of Mystery and Magic in the world—so much so that it had become a force of suppression of the very Mystery I was seeking.

Once the corporate world has you, it’s hard to leave it—really hard. But my Soul was louder, stronger, brighter. She is the Magic I follow. And so I listened. I followed Her traces. They led me to South America: jungles, mountains, different tribes, and their relationship to Mystery and Soul, which I was fortunate to experience. After South America, I knew there was no way back into my old life. Like a snake, I shed the old corporate clothes. This was a time of deep introspection, deep confusion, and an even stronger longing to connect to Her—my Soul.

After inner and outer struggles upon my return to Europe, I was called to embark once more on another voyage—a voyage of mystery, following my Soul to the end of the world. Since my time in IT and the corporate world was done, so too were my monthly salaries.

With an end came a new beginning: a path toward a career aligned with my inner calling. When I read the syllabus of the analytical psychology course, I was blown away. In our highly rational, intellectual, rigid, concrete world of technology, to find something like depth psychology was beyond words. It was a liberation, a renewal—a thread of Magic tightly held by a few.

To say I was excited would be a huge understatement. I packed my things and went to pursue the Magic and Mystery that still existed in a world that no longer believes in Magic. And of course, I became infatuated with ISAP Zurich. It felt like heaven—to study, experience, and explore the non-rational, the Mystery, the Magic. Until I reached a certain point in my studies.

The Point

At first, my immersion in the world of analytical psychology felt divine. We explored the invisible world—the world behind the door that few dare to cross. Or so I thought. After a year, reality hit me, and my rose-colored glasses fell off. The Mystery and Magic that drew me to these studies, and for which I traded everything for a one-way ticket to Zurich, began to fade and dilute under institutional bureaucracy.

The very Mystery, Soul, and Magic I followed was nowhere to be found beneath thick layers of policies, generic requirements, exams, and bureaucracy. Realistically, there is little difference between a regular school with an authoritarian model of teaching and what happens in analytical psychology institutes—except perhaps for the subjects taught. Everything else feels the same: the same rules, the same grading, the same bureaucracy. All I see is sameness. And so I ask: can Mystery and Magic survive and be preserved in a world still governed by this rigidity, by outdated models? I don't know the answer. I can only hope that the Mystery that brought me here will remain untouched by the institutionalised world, with the help of my Soul.

While I can’t find Mystery in the classroom, I can feel it within—where it always was. The conflict arises when I seek to cultivate my relationship with Mystery and Soul, yet feel blocked by classroom walls that insist on their ways of seeing the world.

Sometimes I truly wonder whether those teaching us have experienced the Mystery and Magic I speak of. And then I ask: how can someone who has not experienced the Divine, the Magic, the depths of Soul lecture us on it? And if they had experienced it, would they even be here, part of this Jungian collective? Or comfort of consulting chair was traded for discomfort of following Her traces?

Lecturers will teach us different subjects, tell us what a dream points to, or what a patient’s drawing suggests. They will tell us what Jung meant in his writings, which sometimes feels furthest from the truth. They will share what they want us to repeat to them in exams, just as their lecturers once required of them, so that they can go to bed at night feeling a sense of achievement.

Some will warn of inflation, yet enjoy being showered with praise and idealization. They will proudly share their journey, their struggles, their bad advice—and secretly scorn you if you disagree. They will collapse into their own projections (countertransference, if we’re being Jungian) and complexes, and pretend they didn’t. Perhaps some will admit their shortcomings; others will hide behind their longevity in the field, playing it safe.

Hopefully, some of us will see this and choose to find our own path—our Soul. Others, I think, will continue walking someone else’s path, which Jung warned against repeatedly.

Yet it seems we have bought into sameness. We have bought someone else’s path. Worse still, it is no longer even Jung’s path, but a diluted version shaped by those who came after him—and we, as obedient little soldiers, continue to dilute it further with our own fears and darkness.

Will we have the courage to find our own path? Our Souls? Or will we continue to follow paths laid down by others, pretending to reap their gifts, while forgetting the Mystery—the very Mystery that led Jung deep into the underworld in search of his Soul? The Mystery that underpins and still holds our world together. The Mystery that I believe to be one of the strongest antidotes to modern neurosis and other illnesses. The Mystery now replaced by clinical dictionaries, diagnostic tools, fashionable labels, medication, and deep disrespect.

We live in a world that demands ten diplomas, ten degrees, and ten years of experience just to enter a hospital, let alone work with people. And then we call Indigenous peoples crazy, primitive, savage. It is we who are out of our minds and bodies.

Will we reclaim our minds and return to our bodies—united, coherent, and in relationship with the Soul and Mystery? I truly hope so. Otherwise, we risk becoming mindless zombies running toward their next meal, flooding the world into eternal sleep.