2. Existential Crisis

The Crisis

The existential crisis started ten years after ‘Dying, to Live’ and grew on me gradually, getting heavier and more pressing, until I was paralysed by not knowing what to do in life. Every turn was blocked by the question; Why? 

All my ambitions as a young man had been fulfilled. I had a great family, enough money and possessions, had lived my career ambitions and couldn’t find anything better to do. I was drifting on a mid-life plateau.

But I was also exhausted, tired of the work hamster wheel which had become very boring. My sense of purpose had gone. Where to go next? 

Who am I, why am I here, what shall I do? If I could not go on without the answers to these simple questions, and I could not find my answers, I was in a crisis. They are dangerous questions to ask, you don’t know the consequences they will bring, or where they will take you. 

Career advice brought me back to where I was. Buddhism gave me a theoretical base to work from but I found it too constricting of the human spirit. The goal-setting self-help culture was exhausting and soulless, just running faster on the wheel. I read a lot of philosophy which was interesting but difficult to convincingly live by; could religious faith turn out to be religious folly? For five years I chased all this around and came up with nothing. I could not find any satisfactory logical answers to my questions. 

As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (I just wonder how many times he has been asked “can you spell that, please”.) says in his excellent book “Flow”, that soon we awaken, alone, to realise the sophisticated affluent scientific world is not going to make us happy. Jung said his clinics were full of successful middle class people who did not know what to do with the rest of their lives. They had reached the top of their ambitions; now what? But this went deeper than happiness, or finding something else to do, it was about living in truth.

No one could tell me that my asking the question “what is the purpose of my life”, was part of the purpose of my life. Some believe this existential crisis is “a calling” from our depths to seek a connection. Could this be the first stage in Campbell’s mythological Hero’s Journey, the calling, to seek the answers to the meaning of life? “A call to adventure.” The Journey being where that search takes us. Campbell said most people reject the call, never getting to the journey that followed.

At this time I would sometimes find myself experiencing a very dark place, thick and total blackness all around me. What was out there; was I about to be struck down, eaten maybe, or was I standing there alone in this almost palpable blackness. Was this the dark night of the soul? It was a place I could go to at will. Very uncomfortable. I would find a way out of it, and it would be profound, but not for years. 

Meanwhile, compulsive escape beckoned; smoking, overeating, tea and coffee, rumination, reading, and more and more working. I searched relentlessly to find what life is for in philosophy, Jung, Assagioli and more. 

At this time I felt a huge connection with alcoholic patients at work at this time. I knew the desperate place where they were inside, alone, lost, seemingly empty. Their hopelessness would bring me to tears. The love of my family and the important though soulless routines of work carried me along.  

An Answer from Meditation

During my years of meditation, I had learned how to seek answers within. I would move into a place of calm, silent, inner awareness and then ask a question, let it go and wait for an answer. The voice would be gentle, clear, with a firm answer, as though from another person. If I tried to force an answer it would not come. Though I was guarded it never let me down, I had always been given the right answer. 

So I asked my inner voice “How should I live?” and a clear answer came. “Live your life as an example to others.” Well, I would never have thought of that. It sounded theatrical, like making a display of myself which I found repulsive, if not comical. “Look at me, aren’t I great. You should be like this, like me!” The more I thought of this, the more I realised it would come to mean living an example to myself. That became the feedback loop of a very tight self-discipline. If I were to set an example, it would be the kind of example I would want to follow. I would see myself in the third person, as though I was on a stage, viewed by a gentle reviewer, firm and fair, me. (I later came to consider that third person view of ourselves to be the meaning of the term Sophrosune, so cryptically described by Socrates in the dialogue, Charmides.)

This soon developed into treating others as I would like to be treated if I were them in their circumstances. I would not expect my living by an example to be followed by anyone else, I would be happy to get things right.

An unexpected answer from a profound encounter, which when considered carefully, revealed profound insights. I had a sense that there was a greater intelligence working within me, in my back office at it were. 

There was still no direction, or role to take up in the ordinary world, and of course, I continued to make a bad example of myself, sometimes. 

Dreams. An Introduction

Contemporaneously I started recalling vivid dreams with powerful imagery. Being curious, I picked up a small introductory book to Carl Jung and was fascinated by his ideas of shadow (the rejected parts of ourselves) and anima (the feminine in the man). One dream went like this;

I was going to a medical management conference in another hospital. I walked into the main entrance and then through a left side door, thinking I could find my way to the conference hall. I walked down the narrow white corridors in a modern building with doors numbered 1.002, 1.003, etc. I was quickly lost and unsure where to go, or how to go back as I turned back and forth confused. 

A lady appeared. Tall, slim, in her 50s, with light shortish auburn hair; she wore a blue twin set and her skirt went below her knee, stockings and short heels. She had an air of calm efficiency. “Can I help you?” she asked. I explained that I was lost and wanted to go to the conference. “Follow me.” she said, and we went along corridors and upstairs until we came to a large open hall. “Wait here.” she said and walked to a table where there were several young women dressed in black jackets and skirts. They spoke and she beckoned me over. As I went over she walked back and past me. I looked at her and said, “Thank you.” She looked ahead, walked without acknowledging me in any way. I went to the young women and they registered me for the meeting and I took a seat in the conference hall. 

I found this woman fascinating without knowing why. Direct, efficient, capable but also unemotional, a little cold. I wondered what kind of woman she might be at home. A husband, no children maybe, she sits and reads in the evenings by an amber side table light? I wanted to know her better. 

Three months later I was at work walking down a long empty corridor when a middle aged woman stepped out from a side corridor and walked ahead of me. She was alone, hunched over sobbing into a handkerchief. I quickly caught up and asked; “Can I help you, is there anything I can do?” She said, “No, no thank you.” I carried on ahead of her. She called out, again “Thank you.”  And I just carried on walking. 

I was struck all of a sudden, I had seen someone behave as I had. It took a while before I realised it was the woman in the dream; I had forgotten about her.  Had I copied her, or, as Jung might have said, the woman in the dream represented in me an unrecognised psychological dynamic that I had already expressed. As though at certain times in my life this dream lady stepped forward and took over my behaviour. 

I came to realise that I did brush off thanks and compliments given to me. I knew it happened and it somehow seemed right. Having now been on the receiving end in the dream, I wanted to be more interactive, responsive and acknowledge thanks. I no longer wanted to be like the lady in the dream.  The encounters would be more complete, and I would be a little kinder to others and myself. I resolved to change. I might say; “You are welcome.” or “No problem.” for example.

For the first time, I had seen myself in a dream character. A mirror had been held up, and not my face but my behaviour had been reflected back. It would not be the last time. I had been given a lesson. I am reminded of later reading that every unassessed dream is like an unopened letter to oneself. 

The Crisis

The existential crisis started ten years after ‘Dying, to Live’ and grew on me gradually, getting heavier and more pressing, until I was paralysed by not knowing what to do in life. Every turn was blocked by the question; Why? 

All my ambitions as a young man had been fulfilled. I had a great family, enough money and possessions, had lived my career ambitions and couldn’t find anything better to do. I was drifting on a mid-life plateau.

But I was also exhausted, tired of the work hamster wheel which had become very boring. My sense of purpose had gone. Where to go next? 

Who am I, why am I here, what shall I do? If I could not go on without the answers to these simple questions, and I could not find my answers, I was in a crisis. They are dangerous questions to ask, you don’t know the consequences they will bring, or where they will take you. 

Career advice brought me back to where I was. Buddhism gave me a theoretical base to work from but I found it too constricting of the human spirit. The goal-setting self-help culture was exhausting and soulless, just running faster on the wheel. I read a lot of philosophy which was interesting but difficult to convincingly live by; could religious faith turn out to be religious folly? For five years I chased all this around and came up with nothing. I could not find any satisfactory logical answers to my questions. 

As Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi (I just wonder how many times he has been asked “can you spell that, please”.) says in his excellent book “Flow”, that soon we awaken, alone, to realise the sophisticated affluent scientific world is not going to make us happy. Jung said his clinics were full of successful middle class people who did not know what to do with the rest of their lives. They had reached the top of their ambitions; now what? But this went deeper than happiness, or finding something else to do, it was about living in truth.

No one could tell me that my asking the question “what is the purpose of my life”, was part of the purpose of my life. Some believe this existential crisis is “a calling” from our depths to seek a connection. Could this be the first stage in Campbell’s mythological Hero’s Journey, the calling, to seek the answers to the meaning of life? “A call to adventure.” The Journey being where that search takes us. Campbell said most people reject the call, never getting to the journey that followed.

At this time I would sometimes find myself experiencing a very dark place, thick and total blackness all around me. What was out there; was I about to be struck down, eaten maybe, or was I standing there alone in this almost palpable blackness. Was this the dark night of the soul? It was a place I could go to at will. Very uncomfortable. I would find a way out of it, and it would be profound, but not for years. 

Meanwhile, compulsive escape beckoned; smoking, overeating, tea and coffee, rumination, reading, and more and more working. I searched relentlessly to find what life is for in philosophy, Jung, Assagioli and more. 

At this time I felt a huge connection with alcoholic patients at work at this time. I knew the desperate place where they were inside, alone, lost, seemingly empty. Their hopelessness would bring me to tears. The love of my family and the important though soulless routines of work carried me along.  

An Answer from Meditation

During my years of meditation, I had learned how to seek answers within. I would move into a place of calm, silent, inner awareness and then ask a question, let it go and wait for an answer. The voice would be gentle, clear, with a firm answer, as though from another person. If I tried to force an answer it would not come. Though I was guarded it never let me down, I had always been given the right answer. 

So I asked my inner voice “How should I live?” and a clear answer came. “Live your life as an example to others.” Well, I would never have thought of that. It sounded theatrical, like making a display of myself which I found repulsive, if not comical. “Look at me, aren’t I great. You should be like this, like me!” The more I thought of this, the more I realised it would come to mean living an example to myself. That became the feedback loop of a very tight self-discipline. If I were to set an example, it would be the kind of example I would want to follow. I would see myself in the third person, as though I was on a stage, viewed by a gentle reviewer, firm and fair, me. (I later came to consider that third person view of ourselves to be the meaning of the term Sophrosune, so cryptically described by Socrates in the dialogue, Charmides.)

This soon developed into treating others as I would like to be treated if I were them in their circumstances. I would not expect my living by an example to be followed by anyone else, I would be happy to get things right.

An unexpected answer from a profound encounter, which when considered carefully, revealed profound insights. I had a sense that there was a greater intelligence working within me, in my back office at it were. 

There was still no direction, or role to take up in the ordinary world, and of course, I continued to make a bad example of myself, sometimes. 

Dreams. An Introduction

Contemporaneously I started recalling vivid dreams with powerful imagery. Being curious, I picked up a small introductory book to Carl Jung and was fascinated by his ideas of shadow (the rejected parts of ourselves) and anima (the feminine in the man). One dream went like this;

I was going to a medical management conference in another hospital. I walked into the main entrance and then through a left side door, thinking I could find my way to the conference hall. I walked down the narrow white corridors in a modern building with doors numbered 1.002, 1.003, etc. I was quickly lost and unsure where to go, or how to go back as I turned back and forth confused. 

A lady appeared. Tall, slim, in her 50s, with light shortish auburn hair; she wore a blue twin set and her skirt went below her knee, stockings and short heels. She had an air of calm efficiency. “Can I help you?” she asked. I explained that I was lost and wanted to go to the conference. “Follow me.” she said, and we went along corridors and upstairs until we came to a large open hall. “Wait here.” she said and walked to a table where there were several young women dressed in black jackets and skirts. They spoke and she beckoned me over. As I went over she walked back and past me. I looked at her and said, “Thank you.” She looked ahead, walked without acknowledging me in any way. I went to the young women and they registered me for the meeting and I took a seat in the conference hall. 

I found this woman fascinating without knowing why. Direct, efficient, capable but also unemotional, a little cold. I wondered what kind of woman she might be at home. A husband, no children maybe, she sits and reads in the evenings by an amber side table light? I wanted to know her better. 

Three months later I was at work walking down a long empty corridor when a middle aged woman stepped out from a side corridor and walked ahead of me. She was alone, hunched over sobbing into a handkerchief. I quickly caught up and asked; “Can I help you, is there anything I can do?” She said, “No, no thank you.” I carried on ahead of her. She called out, again “Thank you.”  And I just carried on walking. 

I was struck all of a sudden, I had seen someone behave as I had. It took a while before I realised it was the woman in the dream; I had forgotten about her.  Had I copied her, or, as Jung might have said, the woman in the dream represented in me an unrecognised psychological dynamic that I had already expressed. As though at certain times in my life this dream lady stepped forward and took over my behaviour. 

I came to realise that I did brush off thanks and compliments given to me. I knew it happened and it somehow seemed right. Having now been on the receiving end in the dream, I wanted to be more interactive, responsive and acknowledge thanks. I no longer wanted to be like the lady in the dream.  The encounters would be more complete, and I would be a little kinder to others and myself. I resolved to change. I might say; “You are welcome.” or “No problem.” for example.

For the first time, I had seen myself in a dream character. A mirror had been held up, and not my face but my behaviour had been reflected back. It would not be the last time. I had been given a lesson. I am reminded of later reading that every unassessed dream is like an unopened letter to oneself. 

I had found the beginnings of an inner life through a connection with an inner voice, offering the idea of how to live by example. In addition, there was revealed a connection between dreams and how I behaved in life. Jung’s teachings experienced first hand. In truth, I was not wholly convinced but felt it was worthy of more consideration. There was hope that more might come and a way forward appear with experience going beyond the rational.