My unofficial Vital Study Zine #19 with observations from Vital Psychedelic Training and recent happenings in the space.

This issue: Carl Jung and the shadow side of psychedelia with Drs Ido Cohen and Gita Vaid, plus The Temple of Light and more

‘Jung’s work reminds us that our psyches are endlessly complex systems with unfathomable capabilities for healing and growth.’

Not my own prescient words, but those of my esteemed Vital Psychedelic Training course tutor Johanna Hilla in Philosophy and Psychedelics. The seminal compilation is now available in paperback out of Exeter University, Albion. That’s where Johanna, a pioneering expert in applying Carl Jung’s psychology to psychedelic use, is based. ‘Jung’s contribution may prove essential for realising a comprehensive psychology of altered states,’ she concludes in her essay Journeying into the Realm of the Unconscious.

Jung famously rejected Sigmund Freud’s focus on childhood, sexuality and biological functions. Legend has it that during a long ocean voyage spent together, the spritely Jung implied Freud’s lack of sexual experience might contribute to the significance he attached to it.

Freud shall we say was triggered. Jung spiralled into a spiritual crisis, his mind blown by the realisation Freud was not only sexually repressed himself, but possibly projecting it all over human history. The son of a priest and a medium, his confusion manifested in lavish, intense visions including an especially poignant prophecy of the First World War in October 1913. From Jung’s 1962 autobiography Memories, Dreams, Reflections:

‘I saw the mighty yellow waves, the floating rubble of civilization, and the drowned bodies of uncounted thousands,’ he wrote in his memoirs, ‘Then the whole sea turned to blood. This vision last about one hour. I was perplexed and nauseated, and ashamed of my weakness. Two weeks passed; then the vision recurred, under the same conditions, even more vividly than before, and the blood was more emphasized.’

Jung did what any of us would: he comissioned a large red leather bound scrapbook, built a massive extension on his crazy villa by Lake Zurich and retired there ‘in solitude’ AKA alongside his polyamorous coterie of society beauties, to write canonical books – and paint a unique illuminated manuscript exploring his own psyche.

The son of a priest and a medium favoured stuff that – a century later – would turn out to be highly appealing to us voyaging-through-the-netherworlds types. 

Arguably, the writing was on the wall when Jung wrote the introduction to the first-ever 1935 German edition of The Tibetan Book of the Dead, which Timothy Leary and Richard ‘Ram Dass’ Alpert would present as an LSD road manual in the 60s. His med school dissertation was written On the Psychology and Pathology of So-Called Occult Phenomena.

Jung channeled the imagination to illustrate our purpose, and the route to homeostasis. He empirically examined the use of classical tools like religious texts, alchemical practices, and dream states to understand human psychology. He believed historic methods employed a metaphysical vocabulary richer than words alone. 

The mental health crisis is a result of these more elegant methods of understanding falling into neglect, Jung decalred. Muddied are our personal blueprints for fulfilment: ‘The will can control our impulses only in part. It may be able to suppress them, but it cannot alter their nature,’ he wrote in 1951’s Aion: Researches into the Phenomenology of the Self, ‘And what is suppressed comes up in another place, in another form, but this time loaded with a resentment that makes the otherwise harmless natural impulse our enemy.’

This issue goes Carl Jung bananas: with special guests my aforementioned teach Ms Johanna Saponnen, modern-day magus Dr Ido Cohen, and many more psychedelic thinkers who tell stories with punchlines like “You must respect the circle of life to drink ayahuasca” and “Shouldn’t we be coming up with something better than ‘just trust the inner healer’?”

In this archetypal collector’s issue: