D1

VIII. PSYCHOLOGICAL TYPES

By Stephen Palmquist (stevepq@hkbu.edu.hk)

22. Four Levels of Attitude Adaptation

As we learned last week, the archetype of the Self includes not only the sum total of all archetypes, but the whole content of our conscious mind as well. The transformations that take place inside the "cocoon" of our individuation as we await the formation of the "butterfly" of our true Self must therefore include our conscious attributes. Last week we focused on our unconscious character traits, the archetypes, so this week we shall turn to an area of Jungian psychology we have largely ignored up to now: his four-level theory of the ways we adapt ourselves to the external world. Because this theory of "psychological types" relates mainly to our conscious character traits, it has been by far the most widely accepted (for some, the only accepted) part of Jung's psychology.

How do you respond to new situations? Are you more likely to initiate conversations when in a room full of strangers, or to wait until someone else approaches you? Are your actions more likely to be determined by how you feel, or by what you think about what is happening? By what your five senses tell you is actually happening, or by what you believe might happen? Simple and relatively straightforward questions like these lie at the basis of Jung's theory of psychological types.

When I was in my first semester of college, my older brother (who was in his final year at the same college) came to me once to express concern about how I was adapting to my new life as a student. He told me a friend of his thought I didn't have any friends, because she had noticed I would always eat breakfast alone in the college dining room. His friend was someone who would never eat a meal alone in public, and assumed anyone who does this must be very lonely. I reassured my brother that I was making plenty of friends, but that I actually preferred to eat breakfast alone. It meant I could sleep later and/or finish the homework for my 9 am class while I was eating! I didn't care much about what other people thought about this habit; however, I do remember being rather surprised that this person who hardly knew me assumed I would be lonely just because she would be lonely in such circumstances.

Actually, aren't we all guilty of making this same kind of mistake? We can never see into the depths of another person's soul, so we normally base our opinions about their character on our observations of their outward actions and ways of adapting to certain kinds of situations. We tend to assume that a person who acts in a certain way must be experiencing the same thing on the inside that we would be experiencing if we were to behave in that way. This phenomenon is similar to, but not the same as, projection. As explained in Lecture 17, projecting some aspect of our unconscious character onto another person is, being unconscious, largely uncontrollable and difficult to detect as it is happening. But the tendency to assume that other people's ways of adapting to the world all reflect the same attitudes we have when adapting to the world is a conscious prejudice that is controllable and relatively easy to change.

One of the main purposes of Jung's theory of psychological types is to make us aware of the built-in prejudices of our own attitudes in adapting to the world. By learning to discern how our attitudes differ from other types of prejudices people may have, we not only increase our own self-understanding; we also transform our relationships with other people, freeing them to be themselves, whereas before we tended to treat them as copies of ourselves. Jung was particularly interested in how this tendency affects the relationship between therapists and patients. Therapists who are not aware of their own psychological type are likely to use methods or recommend treatments that are designed for people like themselves; but if the patient's psychological type is different from the therapist's, such an approach could backfire, making the patient's problem even worse rather than improving it.

Jung's theory consists of four sets of polar (yes/no) oppositions, forming a perfect fourth-level analytic relation with sixteen possible combinations (see TP 74). Although he claimed to have constructed this theory on the basis of empirical observations of his patients' actual character-traits, the data is obviously organized in a highly logical form: there are exactly sixteen possible psychological types simply because 2x2x2x2=16! In this lecture I shall give a general overview of each of the four choices that make up these levels, as shown in Figure VIII.1. Lecture 23 will then focus on how to recognize these types, both in our waking life and in our dreams, how to relate them to our unconscious archetypes, and how to use them as tools for transformation. This will prepare us to examine in Lecture 24 how an awareness of psychological types can influence our attitudes toward and participation in traditional religious beliefs and activities.

The two most basic "levels" (or binary distinctions) in Jung's theory -as mapped onto the horizontal axis in Figure VIII.1-relate to our means of adaptation to new situations. The root level, forming the bedrock of Jung's theory of types, is the (now well-known) contrast between

"extraverts" and "introverts". (Note that the former term is nowadays

Figure VIII.1: Four Levels of Psychological Types

usually spelled "extroverts"; but Jung originally used an "a" in place of the "o", so I shall follow his spelling.) In popular usage, "extravert" refers to an outgoing person, while "introvert" refers to someone who is shy. Such generalizations may often be accurate; but they do not always correspond to Jung's more subtle, technical way of using these terms.

For Jung, this first distinction relates to the flow of energy to and from our psyche. Extraverts adapt most comfortably to new situations by sending psychic energy out to the world or to other persons, while introverts adapt most comfortably by drawing energy in toward themselves. (In Latin, vertere means "to turn", extra means "outward", and intro means "inward".) To "turn outward" involves focusing energy on the object (i.e., on how something external to the psyche is responding to the psyche's influence); to "turn inward" involves focusing energy on the subject (i.e., on how one's own psyche is responding to external influence). Obviously, the former is more likely to result in "outgoing" behavior and the latter in "shy" behavior, but the opposite is also possible: a person who acts shy could be pouring psychic energy out to the surrounding objects, while an outgoing person could actually be focusing psychic energy internally, despite appearances to the contrary.

Jung's second primary distinction is based on whether a person is more likely to respond to new situations in a predetermined, rational way, or in a spontaneous, arational (though not necessarily irrational) way. Jung associates the former with a tendency to steer one's way through the world on the basis of rational (mind-based) judgments, while the latter type of person depends more on arational (body-based) perceptions. How these tendencies affect your personality will depend on whether you are an extravert or an introvert. An extravert judging type will have a high regard for the opinions of society and one's peers: collective wisdom will take precedence over individual preference. An introvert judging type, by contrast, will regard his or her own point of view as more important, even if it means disregarding "conventional wisdom". For perceiving types, though, experience is more important than anyone's rational theories or opinions. An extravert perceiving type will adapt to new situations by appealing to outer experiences of some sort-his or her own, or someone else's. An introvert perceiving type, on the other hand, will focus on his or her inner experiences.

As we go through these various psychological types, you should be trying to identify which ones apply to you. To assist you in this, I shall share with you in Lecture 23 my assessment of my own psychological type. For now, though, I'll continue explaining the intricacies of the theory. Before going on to discuss the third and fourth levels (i.e., the ones focused on functions), let's pause for a moment to reflect on how Jung's theory fits in with the rest of his psychology. According to Jung, everyone's psyche actually includes all sixteen types. But each person tends to emphasize one type more than all the others as his or her "strongest" (i.e., most conscious) type: the ones we do not emphasize will be unconscious to varying degrees. The principle of compensation (see Lecture 12) determines that a person's "inferior" (i.e., most unconscious) type will be the opposite of the strongest type (see CW 9.541). Thus, if you are an extravert, then your unconscious will compensate for this by being introverted. Likewise, if you are a judging type, your unconscious will tend to focus on themes relating to perceiving. This is all part of the psyche's natural tendency to regulate itself by seeking balance and wholeness.

The combination of the first two levels can be regarded as giving rise to the two secondary levels of distinction. Judging and perceiving each have their positive and negative poles, just as extraversion and introversion do. Without stretching the standard meaning of the terms "extravert" and "introvert", we can say the four functions (see Figure VIII.2) are generated when the judging-perceiving distinction interacts with the extravert-introvert distinction: extraverted (i.e., objectified) judging is thinking, while introverted judging (i.e., judging applied to the subject) is feeling; likewise, extraverted perceiving is sensation, while introverted perceiving is intuition. Like the first two levels, these third and fourth distinctions interact to make up a perfect 2LAR (second-level analytic relation), delineating the basic functions we tend to favor in any process of adaptation.

This fourfold distinction is the central core of Jung's theory of psychological types. Once again, all of us have all four of these character

Figure VIII.2: Jung's Four Functional Types

traits (see e.g., DA 11). But one will dominate our conscious tendencies, while its opposite dominates our unconscious tendencies; the other two will be partly conscious and partly unconscious. Because of the theory's logical structure, these pairs of extremes will always correspond to the pairs mapped onto the two axes of the cross in Figure VIII.2. If, when forming judgments, you normally tend to base your reasoning on what a thing is (i.e., on its objective nature), then thinking is your conscious function, thus pushing feeling into your unconscious. If, on the other hand, you normally base your reasoning on a thing's value to you (i.e., on its subjective nature), then feeling is conscious, making thinking unconscious. Likewise, when responding to perceptual experiences, if you normally tend to depend more on what is right in front of you, then sensation is your conscious type, while intuition is unconscious. But if your perceptions depend more on the unseen potential of what might happen, then the reverse is true: intuition is conscious and sensation is unconscious.

Each person will have a primary and secondary (or "stronger" and "weaker") conscious function, with corresponding primary and secondary unconscious functions. These are determined by one's preference for either judging or perceiving on the second level. For example, a judging type will have either thinking or feeling as the primary conscious type, with the other being the primary unconscious type. The logical structure of the theory makes it impossible to have (for instance) thinking as one's primary conscious type but sensation as one's primary unconscious type. The two primary types (as well as the two secondary types) must both be located on the same axis of the cross in Figure VIII.2. If you believe your experience conflicts with this limitation, feel free to explore this possibility in your dream diary. But keep in mind that your case will be abnormal, and may even indicate a deficiency in your psyche's ability to perform its self-regulating function.

Theorists after Jung have expanded and clarified this theory of psychological types in various ways. The most influential example is the development of the "Myers-Briggs" type-test. This test asks a long series of dyadic questions (i.e., questions with two opposite answers) that are designed to enable a person to select one of the sixteen possible types as one's own. The abbreviations normally used to refer to each type are: E/I for Extravert/Introvert, S/N for Sensation/iNtuition, T/F for Thinking/Feeling, and J/P for Judging/Perceiving. The conventional order used here, incidentally, moves clockwise around Figure VIII.1, beginning at the top position. Since each of these pairs presents us with two opposite alternatives, we can also use the logical apparatus introduced in The Tree (see Chs.11-12) to distinguish between the sixteen types, with the first option in each case being represented by "+" and the second by "-". The correlation between the standard abbreviations and this more logically "pure" method is shown in Figure VIII.3:

Figure VIII.3: Abbreviations for the Sixteen Types

This figure maps four versions of Figure VIII.2 onto a cross whose quadrants are labeled according to the 2LAR formed by the first two levels of Jung's theory. Note that the order I have used to introduce the four levels does not correspond to the order of the letters/symbols in these abbreviations. Instead, the letters/symbols referring to the third and fourth levels are sandwiched in between those for the first and second levels-an appropriate symbol of the way the first pair generates the second pair.

To identify your psychological type, simply answer the following four yes/no questions (one for each level), presented here in the order of the conventional abbreviations, as shown in Figure VIII.3:

1. Do I tend to adapt to new situations by sending energy out to the world, rather than by drawing it in from the world? Yes = Extravert (+); No = Introvert (-)

2. Are my perceptions normally guided by the facts of the given situation, rather than by its unseen potential? Yes = Sensation (+); No = iNtuition (-)

3. Are my judgments normally guided by a thing's objective nature (i.e., what it is), rather than by its (subjective) value? Yes = Thinking (+); No = Feeling (-)

4. Do I tend to adapt to new situations by making rational judgments, rather than by depending on arational perceptions? Yes = Judging (+); No = Perceiving (-)

Your answers to these questions will place you at one of the sixteen positions on Figure VIII.3. The simple, four letter/symbol abbreviation corresponding to that position will tell you, at a glance, whether you are an extravert or an introvert, which of the four functions is primary and which is secondary, for both your conscious and your unconscious.

A type test I recently took showed me to be "INFJ". If accurate, this would mean I'm an introvert judging type, with feeling as my most conscious type and intuition secondary. (Sensation would be my secondary unconscious type, with thinking as most unconscious.) A good way to check the results of such a test is to consider whether the opposite of each type represents a definite weakness. Thus, my introversion is confirmed by the fact that I feel drained after situations when I need to pour my psychic energy out, as in giving a lecture. (An extravert would tend to feel emotionally charged in such situations.) My preference for intuition is confirmed by my tendency to get lost fairly easily. (A sensation type would have a very good sense of direction.) My preference for feeling is confirmed by the fact that engaging in rational debates over the past few years has tended to make situations worse. (A thinking type would tend to win such arguments, rather than get into trouble as a result of them.) And my preference for judging is confirmed by my tendency to neglect what is going on around me. (A perceiving type would be very observant.) One of the main reasons for identifying our types in such detail is to enable us to focus attention on strengthening our weaker functions, in order to bring greater balance to the psyche. I'll discuss this in more detail in the next lecture.

In preparation for this practical application, let's close this lecture by briefly relating the psychological types to their counterparts in the collective unconscious, the archetypes. In Week VI we saw a few hints of possible connections between the main archetypes (Figure VI.2) and the four functional types (Figure VIII.2). For instance, Jung claims (in DA) that men normally tend to let their thinking show in public (i.e., in their persona), while women tend to let their feelings show. Applying the principle of compensation, he thus associates a man's anima (i.e., his unconscious, inner persona) with feeling and a woman's animus with thinking. Similar correlations can be made between the perceiving types and the ego-based archetypes: the typical male ego is chiefly concerned with sensation (e.g., with developing physical strength, as evidenced by the tendency of men to be more interested in sports), while the typical female ego is more concerned with intuition (e.g., with developing "inner beauty", as evidenced by the tendency of women to be more interested in art). To compensate for these tendencies, the male shadow will normally hold the key to developing a man's intuitive capacities, while the female shadow will normally relate more to a woman's sensations.

As long as we keep in mind that these parallels do not imply strict identity between the functional types and the basic archetypes, but merely broad tendencies that are almost certainly culturally determined, we may regard the following table as outlining the most typical (though somewhat outdated) gender-based correlations:

Figure VIII.4:

Gender-Based Correlations of Types to Archetypes

In the next lecture I shall discuss how such correlations might be helpful in interpreting our dreams, and how they are likely to be transformed as we progress in our dialogue with the unconscious.

23. Balancing the Personality

In Man and His Symbols (MHS 45-50), Jung explains why an awareness of psychological types is an indispensable part of every psychotherapeutic relationship. If there are indeed sixteen distinct personality types, sixteen fundamental differences in the way individuals are likely to undergo the transformations that give shape to the Self, then therapists must be careful not to use their own type as a basis for interpreting a patient's reaction to a certain situation. A patient with a different psychological type is likely to experience the same event in a fundamentally different way from the therapist, so the response that is most likely to lead to a healthy transformation is also likely to be different. Being aware of this fact will enable a therapist to compensate for the difference between his or her own psychological type and that of each patient, and in so doing, to serve as a more sensitive guide for the patient's individuation.

One of the main points about psychological types that was not emphasized in the previous lecture is that they are not absolute features of our personality that stick to us like a fixed label throughout our entire life. Rather, they are fluid tendencies that play a key role in how we experience a given stage in our individuation. Although Jung gives only brief hints about the changeable nature of the types, the correlation between types and archetypes shown in Figure VIII.4 suggests that the types are as much involved in our personal transformation as are the archetypes. Indeed, archetypal and type-centered transformation appear to be two sides of the same coin.

To understand how such transformations work, let's recall how the alchemists dealt with what Jung called "complexes". A complex, as you may recall from Lecture 15, produces intense feelings focused around a given set of associations or life experiences. A person's complexes are, to a large extent, what must be transformed before the genuine wholeness of the Self can come into being. Alchemists taught that such transformations are often slow processes that require great patience in order to be completed. Our tendency is usually to run away from the problems associated with a complex; but this response only insures that they will maintain their hidden influence on us, controlling our actions and emotions when we least expect it. The alchemists' "new man" (i.e., the Self) arises only when we stay with whatever emotions or other symptoms emerge naturally from our complexes (see SM 223). Facing up to such problems is one of the most straightforward and meaningful ways of balancing the conscious and unconscious aspects of our psyche.

Along these lines, Jung says in CW 9: "We always have pain where it does most harm and is most disturbing, in the feet for an infantry officer; a tenor would have it in the throat." My own experience confirms this claim: I've had a headache for much of the past 15 years, ever since I realized I was destined to be a philosopher! If, instead of running away from such problems, we stay with our complexes until they begin to resolve themselves-e.g., until the man begins to get "in touch" with his true feelings and the woman, her true thoughts-then and only then can the complex be resolved. The more I learn to integrate my anima into my personality, the more my chronic headache subsides.

Jung's theory of psychological types is intended as one way of helping us understand and encourage such transformations. After pointing out that every person has all four functional types, Jung points out that "each function has its specific energy which should be applied or it will apply itself" (DA 11). In other words, we have a choice: either we learn to express consciously our natural abilities to think, feel, sense and intuit, calling upon each psychic function when it is most appropriate, or else our complexes will unconsciously determine when each function is dominant, leaving us often surprised or embarrassed by our unexpected responses to our life situations. The ultimate goal of learning about psychological types, then, is to find ways of shaping all aspects of our psyche into a balanced whole.

The realization of this goal requires us to focus attention on developing and learning about our most unconscious type-what Jung sometimes calls our "inferior function". This is because "the inferior function is practically identical with the dark side of the human personality"; it "is the door into the unconscious and the gateway of dreams" (CW 9.222). Identifying our most unconscious type will therefore provide us with indispensable insight into the character-traits our archetypes are likely to exhibit. For instance, when I first started doing serious dreamwork about 12 years ago, I was an introvert thinking type. Not surprisingly, my first dream diary therefore had numerous themes relating to feeling. The fourth entry provides a profoundly symbolic reflection of the extent of my alienation from my feelings. Here is the text:

4. A Missing Finger

Thursday, 3 January

This is the second dream of the morning.

I. I am in a high school boys P.E. class (but at my present age). It's time for calisthenics and I'm one of the last ones out on the gym floor. My place is second from the front and second from the left (as was the case one year in high school), behind Mr. B (a South American friend and fellow Oxford graduate student, with whom I've had numerous conversations concerning his religious doubts).

II. The first exercise is leg stretching, led by Mr. T (a very short high school P.E. teacher, whom I strongly disliked because of his harsh manner). Halfway through his directing us, Mr. T gives way to another, younger coach (unknown identity). After the exercise ends, this new man introduces a boy of about twelve who, he says, "I can do this one [i.e., the next exercise] for a whole hour!"

III. The boy stands in front of the class and tucks both feet in a rather strange way under his crotch. He kneels in this position for about 5-10 seconds, with his hands tucked into his armpits. Then he jumps to his feet and thrusts his (left?) hand forward (as if to say "ta-da!"), extending all the fingers but the third (i.e., the ring finger). This motion is supposed to mean "times three" (i.e., "I can hold this position three times this long"). But he had not held his previous position anywhere near one-third of an hour. A woman's voice yells "that's cheating!"

IV. At first I think it's peculiar how the boy manages to keep his ring finger out of sight. But then I realize that he has no ring finger at all. This realization gives me a sick (terrified) feeling.

The feeling was strong enough to wake me up. As soon as I realized this had been a dream, I was filled with emotion and felt wide awake. The young boy, it seems, was me!

The powerful emotions accompanying this dream indicate that it relates to an important complex that existed at the time of the dream in a "raw" form. Focusing on the dream images in a dialogue with the unconscious is like "cooking" the raw elements of this complex, transforming them into something that can promote, instead of hindering, personal growth.

In order to understand the nature of this complex, let's examine some of the points of interest relating to psychological types. The setting (a P.E. class) highlights sensation. Mr. T obviously represents my shadow, not only because he is a teacher (an authority figure), but also because he is in many ways opposite to me: he is short and I am tall; he is strict and I tend to be lenient; in short, he struck me as being an extravert sensation type, while I'm an introvert with a perceptual preference for intuition. The whole dream therefore suggests that I need to work on developing ("exercising"-i.e., becoming more conscious of) my sensation function. I have, in fact, worked on this in the intervening 12 years, by engaging in various sports (especially soccer), by hiking in the hills (often alone), by gardening, and generally by paying more attention to the sensations my body is experiencing at any given point of time.

Another, even more significant theme arises when the second man introduces the boy, whose missing ring finger represents a deep alienation between me and my feeling function. This interpretation was immediately apparent to me when I awoke, because shortly before having this dream I had learned about the traditional correlation between the human hand and the four functional types: the first (pointer) finger corresponds to thinking; the middle (longest) finger to intuition; the third (ring) finger to feeling; the fourth (shortest) finger to sensation; and the thumb to the will. The realization that "this boy ... was me" was shocking because the symbolism made me profoundly aware that I was somehow separated from my feelings, just as the boy's ring finger had apparently been severed from his hand. The boy's age (about 12 years) suggests that this complex was rooted in something that took place during my puberty. At that time, an individual's personality typically undergoes drastic changes, with one of the four functions being pushed out of the conscious mind and becoming inferior. Clearly, this dream indicates that for me feeling was that function. I can recall several experiences around the time of my puberty that would confirm this hypothesis. But instead of recounting them here, I'll just note that many of the other dreams in my first dream diary also confirmed that feeling was my most unconscious type (see e.g., my dream of meeting the queen, quoted in Lecture 20).

That the complaint raised against the boy's "cheating" comes from a woman's voice shows that the dream is calling attention to an anima complex. This corresponds well with the typically male correlations suggested in Figure VIII.4, as do my associations with Mr. B in §I of the dream. (Note, however, that the correlations for the perceiving functions do not match my case, since my ego has an intuitive character, while the shadow in this dream is sensation-oriented.) That I am standing behind Mr. B suggests he represents my persona; and that I associate him with religious doubts shows that I was preoccupied with the thinking function. The "cheating" seems to have a twofold reference: just as the boy is cheating by not holding his position for a full hour (or even one-third of an hour), so also I was cheating myself at the time by believing I could reach wholeness without integrating feeling into the Self.

If you were paying attention in the last lecture, you may recall that I am no longer a thinking type: as a result of "staying with" the complex relating to my feeling-alienation over the past 12 years, my psychological type has now shifted. Jung himself acknowledges that such dramatic changes are to be expected when we do serious dreamwork. He says (DA 101) "the complete life" inevitably consists of "enormous swing[s] from high to low, from low to high; from extraversion to introversion and vice versa." So don't be surprised if you experience the beginnings of such transformations as you begin to interpret your dreams. These shifts are a sign that your individuation is proceeding as it should, that transformations are producing the personal growth necessary for you to begin discovering who you are.

Diagramming the transformation that has taken place in my own personality type over the past 12 years may help to clarify how such transformations work. Adding the conscious-unconscious distinction to the diagram in Figure VIII.2 gives us the pair of crosses in Figure VIII.5. In both cases, the term placed at the highest point on the cross represents the most conscious type, while that placed at the lowest point represents the most unconscious. The secondary pair is mapped onto the axis that is closer to being horizontal, with the conscious type slightly above the median line, and the unconscious type slightly below. Note that the relationship between the four types (as determined by Figure VIII.2) does not change as the cross rotates. What changes is the degree of consciousness exhibited by each type-though in this case, the two perceiving types remain unchanged. Intuition is on the right hand side of (a) but on the left-hand side of (b) simply because the relative position of feeling and thinking has been inverted.

(a) From puberty to mid-life (b) From mid-life onwards

Figure VIII.5: Type Transformation

Can we ever come to the point where all four functions are fully conscious? These diagrams would suggest not. One way around this, however, would be to suggest that more highly developed individuals will be able to adjust their dominant function rapidly, depending on the situation. Picturing the cross in Figure VIII.5 as a revolving wheel enables us to imagine how the logical structure of Jung's system (based as it is on a perfect 2LAR) could maintain its integrity, yet a person who is approaching a full Self-realization can learn how to have equal conscious access to all four functional types. As this transformation begins to take place, the trouble caused by our most unconscious type interfering when we least expect it will decrease.

Clearly, the transformations in an individual's psychological type will correspond in various ways to the stages of life that characterize the individuation process. Chetwynd (DS 328-332) suggests that each of life's four stages-childhood, youth, maturity and old age (cf. TP, Figure 3.1)-ideally occupies three seven-year periods (i.e., 21 years each), and that the typical sequence of a person's individuation will begin with a focus on sensation (in childhood, as the shadow is formed) and end with a focus on intuition (in old age, as the Self emerges). The intervening two stages tend to be opposite for men and women: as the ego develops during youth (roughly ages 21-41), men will tend to focus on thinking, and women on feeling; during maturity (ages 42-63) this emphasis is reversed as the man's anima puts him in touch with his feelings and the woman's animus, with her thinking. Though these correlations are slightly different from those suggested in Figure VIII.4, they do describe another legitimate way of showing how types tend to develop over time.

Whichever way we choose to correlate types and archetypes to the individuation process, we must constantly remember that such correlations do not describe fixed rules, but only broad tendencies. Some children may show an unusually high intuitive ability during childhood, and may not develop their awareness of sensation until old age. Some women may be highly intellectual in their youth, virtually ignoring their feelings (as men typically do) until they enter the third, "maturity" stage. The same flexibility is needed when interpreting Jung's correlation of the "expansion" and "contraction" laws to the first and second halves of life, respectively (see Figure V.3). This application of the laws seems to have characterized Jung's own development: he was an extravert who became more introverted in the second half of life. But an introverted youth might find it more natural to think of the first half of life as a time of external contraction, while the second half becomes a time of expansion. In such a case the initial expansion would be an inner (introverted) one. This possibility gives rise to the two possible (typical) patterns shown in Figure VIII.6. This complex view of individuation would become even more elaborate if we took into consideration the fact that each half of life itself has periods of relative expansion and contraction. Just as a warm winter day might be warmer than a cold summer day, so also we should not expect to be always expanding during a period of expansion. Correlations such as those outlined in Figure VIII.6 are only tendencies, not rigid laws.

Given the close correspondence between types and archetypes, it should come as no surprise that the types can also be correlated to the

Figure VIII.6: Two Patterns of Individuation

characters that appear in many stories and films, just as we did with the archetypes in Lecture 20. Thus, Chetwynd interprets the main characters in the famous Wind in the Willows story in terms of the four types (SD 425-426). The main character, the "clever" Mr. Toad, is the only animal in the story who lives above ground (i.e., in the conscious realm); he represents the typical male ego, boastfully trying to survive on the basis of his thinking function alone. But when he gets into trouble and is thrown into jail, the "Wild Wooders" (weasels and stoats, symbolizing the havoc wreaked by unintegrated complexes) take over Toad Hall. Toad escapes with the help of the jailer's daughter (his anima), who dresses him in women's clothing (a persona putting him in touch with his feminine side). Toad's friends, the "House-proud Mole" (depicting the sensation type), the "Loyal Ratty" (depicting feeling) and the "Wise Badger" (depicting intuition as the "Core of the Self"), finally assist him in expelling the Wild Wooders from Toad Hall. Toad returns home a transformed person, humble and well balanced like never before.

Rather than citing other such examples, I'll conclude by reflecting on where our types come from. Without contradicting the emphasis I've put on the fluidity of our psychological types, I'd like to make two rather different, but complementary, suggestions. First, I believe each person's psychological type is to a certain extent inborn. The experience my wife and I had with our own children tells me that young babies have distinct personalities even before they are born. One of our children was very active in the womb, while another was relatively quiet. The former turned out to be much more extraverted than the latter. To some extent, then, our types might be determined by a genetic predisposition.

A second factor that is at least equally, if not more, important is a child's environment while growing up. Each time I teach this course I ask my students to submit data on their psychological type and their position in the family (i.e., how many older/younger brothers/sisters they have). My goal is to determine whether birth order is directly correlated to a person being either an extravert or an introvert. Although I have not carried out this experiment in a sufficiently rigorous way to draw any definite conclusions, I have noticed that firstborn children (especially) males) are much more likely to be extraverts, secondborn are more likely to be introverts, and those with two or more older siblings are more difficult to predict.

The role of birth order in determining a person's character has been studied in much greater detail by Frank Sulloway, as reported in his recent book on sibling rivalry, called Born to Rebel. Using a Darwinian model focused on "survival of the fittest", Sulloway argues that firstborn children tend to be conservatives, while later born children tend to be rebels. This, he argues, is because the "status quo" (the situation of being the only child) is good for the firstborn, whereas laterborn children come into an environment where the current situation (with one or more older siblings already having an established place in the family) is bad. Firstborns therefore learn to be "society pleasers", in hopes of preserving their established place as much as possible, whereas laterborns learn to overthrow the established order in order to survive. Citing many examples, Sulloway admits that firstborns sometimes become revolutionary; but their revolts always aim to restore a traditional system that has been lost, whereas revolts promoted by laterborns promote entirely new systems. Firstborns normally become extraverts because there is nothing hindering them from pouring out their psychic energy into every aspect of family life. Secondborn children, by contrast, usually learn that they can get more attention by being quiet, by retreating to an inner world that the firstborn has left unexplored.

As you compare these findings to your own family situation, keep in mind that our psychological types themselves evolve over time. These reflections must therefore be taken as providing insight into how we adapted to life as children. When we pass from childhood to youth (around age 18-21), from youth to maturity (around age 36-42) and from maturity to old age (around age 54-63), our natural way of adapting to the world is likely to undergo major transformations. These are likely to be related to the "life crises" that tend to occur at such times (see Lecture 15) rather than simply to our birth order. Nevertheless, reflecting on our original situation at birth should be an invaluable starting-point for deeper reflections on how to work towards a more balanced psychological disposition in waking life.

24. Spirituality and Prayer Types

I hope by now each of you has been able to discern what your own psychological type currently is. In case you need more help, I shall begin this lecture by reviewing the basic characteristics of each option. Once you have gained confidence in identifying your own psychological type, I want to spend the rest of today's lecture exploring how a knowledge of your psychological type can help you to understand and (if necessary) adjust your attitudes toward spirituality and prayer.

The information in Figure VIII.7 should help you answer the four sets of questions I gave in Lecture 22. The table is divided into two columns: extravert types on the left and introvert types on the right. The top half describes the judging types and the bottom half, the perceiving types, with separate descriptions given for the extravert and introvert versions of each. Separate descriptions are also given for the four basic functions, as named in the sideways boxes located in the center. Each description begins by citing a few basic conscious characteristics of people who match the type in question. Sentences in italics refer to typical negative character-traits often (though not always) exhibited by such people, especially when they over-emphasize this type, thus pushing its opposite deeper into the unconscious. Examples of typical professions or persons who can be associated with a given type are provided in brackets.

This table should help you compare the different types with each other so you can select your own primary type more confidently. Since the table does not include any explicit information about secondary types, I have put a question mark in the abbreviation labeling each of the eight main boxes corresponding to the four functions; that question mark should be replaced by the letter/symbol representing your secondary type. After you select an option you think describes your most conscious function, choose a secondary conscious function from the opposite part of the table (i.e., choose one from the "judging" section and the other from the "perceiving" section). If you remember that your two unconscious types will be the exact opposite of your two conscious types (as explained in Lecture 22), the table should enable you to determine your complete psychological type.

Before discussing how an awareness of your psychological type can deepen your spiritual life, and thus promote personal growth, I would like to introduce another popular theory of types that is often used explicitly for this purpose. The "Enneagram" (meaning a nine-part diagram) is a rather speculative system consisting of nine numbered charac-

Figure VIII.7:

Basic Characteristics of Jung's Psychological Types

Figure VIII.8: Enneagram Types (and Avoidances)

ter types, as shown in Figure VIII.8. Each person is believed to be born with a natural bias toward one of these types, with several of the others being secondary in various ways. Each type tends to associate personal identity with a particular character trait (e.g., "I am successful" for the Performer) and to avoid the kind of experience that negates that identity (e.g., failure). The "avoidance" trait for each type (as shown in brackets in Figure VIII.8) is likely to be compulsive, as long as one's type remains unconscious. A good way to identify your Enneagram type is to think about which kind of experience you are most likely to avoid. For example, I naturally tend to avoid the appearance of being "ordinary", so I would probably be a "number 4" type (i.e., a Romantic).

The history of the Enneagram is shrouded in mystery: though it seems to have originated from Muslim (Sufi) mysticism, it is nowadays more often used by Christians as a way of deepening spiritual sensitivity. For this purpose the diagram has numerous applications. Discovering which character trait you compulsively avoid, for example, can be regarded as a way of identifying the psychological root of the sin that most frequently blocks you from experiencing God's presence in your life (cf. Figure II.1). Being a Romantic makes me susceptible to sins relating to the avoidance of being ordinary (e.g., being compulsively dissatisfied with the status quo, or jealous of others who are getting more attention that I am).

The arrows in Figure VIII.8 denote typical personality relationships that I think correspond roughly to Jung's shadow and anima/us archetypes. The Enneagram theory says people tend to adopt negative characteristics relating to the personality type at the other end of the arrow pointing away from their type (cf. the shadow) and positive characteristics relating to the type with the arrow pointing toward their type (cf. anima/us). If this is true, then I should take on the negative aspects of the Giver (such as being manipulative) when I am in stressful situations (when projecting my shadow), while having the positive traits of the Perfectionist (such as being conscientious and logical) when I am in more relaxed situations (when projecting my anima).

Another useful application uses the "wings" (i.e., the numbers on either side of one's own position on the circle) in a way that seems to correspond to what Jung would call our personas. Thus, in adapting to new situations, a Romantic is most likely to become either an Observer or a Performer. Here, as well as in the "arrow" application, the Enneagram describes my personality with surprising accuracy. When I am teaching, for example, I tend to adopt an extraverted style, as if I am performing on a stage. In many other situations, however, I am more likely to put on the face of an aloof observer. In committee meetings, for instance, I am most comfortable saying nothing: I usually sit quietly-unless my perfectionist anima or need-deprived shadow breaks through!

As a rigorous psychological system, the Enneagram is certainly less scientific than Jung's theory of types. With its mystical origin, it is obviously not as firmly rooted in empirical research. Moreover, the differences between the types are not as logically distinct as in Jung's system, so the overall structure does not appear to be as complete. For instance, the personality numbers are grouped into "heart" (2, 3, 4), "head" (5, 6, 7), and "gut" (8, 9, 1) categories. These correspond in obvious ways to Jung's feeling, thinking and perceiving (sensing/intuiting) types; yet Metz and Burchill describe them in ways that resemble extraversion, introversion and a mixture, respectively (see EP 86). No room is given for the possibility that a heart-centered person might also be an introvert (like me). This, together with several other shortcomings (e.g., the lack of a clear distinction between sensation and intuition types, the assumption that a person's type can never change, and an overly predetermined structure that resembles a horoscope in some ways), makes the Jungian system clearly superior. Nevertheless, the Enneagram can certainly serve as a useful supplement.

By referring in this lecture to "spirituality", I am not thinking of one particular religious tradition, but rather of something that nearly all religions have in common: a focus on discovering a connection between ourselves and some transcendent (or "ultimate") reality. People who are naturally predisposed toward religion are sometimes skeptical about the legitimacy and/or value of psychology, because it appears to challenge or compete with traditional forms of spirituality. Some psychologies (such as Freud's, as we shall see in Week XI) do indeed attempt to "explain away" religious experiences as nothing but illusions of the mind. However, this need not be the case, as we shall see in the case of the Enneagram. Jung's theory of psychological types can also be used to illustrate the way psychology and spirituality work hand in hand.

Like psychology, various forms of spirituality are often regarded as promoting personal growth. Of these, the most common form, practiced by nearly every human being at one point or another, is prayer. Before looking at how an awareness of psychological types can actually enhance our understanding and experience of prayer, a very important preliminary issue must be clarified. There are two fundamentally different (though often related) meanings for "prayer": this word often refers merely to the words we speak when we are attempting to develop a relationship with the transcendent (i.e., with God); but on a deeper level, "prayer" refers to an attitude of the heart, an attitude of being present with God. The latter is how the apostle Paul seems to be using the word, for instance, when he admonishes his readers to "Pray continually" (1 Thes. 5:17). For if this command refers to the former, purely verbal, kind of prayer, then obeying it would lead a person into compulsive behavior that is hardly consistent with a genuine religious disposition (see Matt. 6:7), which will always be psychologically healthy. The purpose of the verbal "letter" of prayer, if it is to be authentic, must always be to encourage and deepen the nonverbal "spirit" of prayer.

Learning about psychological types can assist us in deepening the spiritual meaning of our prayer in several ways. First, by making us aware of our personal strengths, it can help us discover the method of praying that best suits us, enabling us to develop a firmly grounded prayer life. In my childhood I learned to think of prayer only as a verbal conversation between myself and God. As a result, I was repeatedly frustrated with my prayer life, never feeling it was genuine or "deep". At church I was told to keep lists of prayer requests and to bring these to God every day during a regular prayer time, until each one was answered. But I always failed. As long as I viewed prayer as a form of thinking directed to God, I inevitably lost interest. Gradually I became convinced that I simply lacked the discipline to pray consistently. But when I began to experiment with feeling-centered prayer, a whole new realm of spirituality opened up to me. Now when I pray for a person, I normally use few (if any) words. I simply hold the person before God in my heart and silently feel the person's needs as my own. Praying in this way has been deeply fulfilling and easier to practice consistently.

A second spiritual benefit of becoming aware of psychological types is the ability it gives us to overcome prejudices. It can help us understand why we strongly dislike certain types of spirituality and/or prayer. As a feeling type (and a number 4 Enneagram type), I naturally tend to dislike people who are overly rational or who deal with sensitive situations in a cold, uncaring way. In terms of spirituality, this bias causes me to doubt the spiritual depth of people who view prayer mainly in terms of verbal (rational) discussion with God. What I need to recognize, however, if I am to grow toward spiritual wholeness, is that this type of prayer is right for certain types of people. I need to allow them to be who they are before God, rather than judging them just because they are not like me (cf. Matt. 7:1-2).

Once we delve more deeply into the theory of types, we can reap a third benefit, by focusing on our inferior attitude and functions. This can help us work toward a more balanced approach to our spiritual life, and so promote greater personal growth. As an introvert feeling type, I can testify to the value of adopting extraverted and perceiving methods of praying. Several years ago, I learned to use what Christians sometimes call "spiritual gifts" (or charismatic prayer). This extraverted form of prayer (discussed below), whereby I pour myself out into the world I otherwise tend to absorb, is a refreshing balance to my normally introverted attitude. Likewise, some of my profoundest spiritual experiences have happened when I take a walk alone in the mountains and simply sit quietly before God, contemplating the landscape. This perceiving approach strengthens my personality by focusing on sensation (my secondary unconscious type). As I learn to pray more deeply, I look forward to the day when I can tap the power that still lies dormant in the thought-oriented forms of prayer I still tend to reject.

To supplement this personal testimony, I'll now provide a brief overview of how Jung's theory of psychological types can be used to distinguish between radically different styles of prayer. Figure VIII.9 is based on the same format as Figure VIII.7, but specifies preferences as to how people of each type will tend to pray and worship. In each case the first sentence gives a positive description of the type of prayer that tends to be most comfortable for a person of that type. The second (italicized) sentence refers to the danger each type faces, if that preference is allowed to dominate the person's prayer life completely. And the words

Figure VIII.9: Typical Preferences in Prayer/Worship

in brackets propose a name for or example of the kind of prayer that best corresponds to that type. To use this table as an aid in deepening your prayer life, first locate your psychological type. If you do not pray, but are interested in beginning to develop a spiritual life, start with the kind of prayer corresponding to your type. If your past attempts to develop a prayer life have failed, you may have been attempting to pray in ways that do not fit your character. (Perhaps well-meaning religious leaders even taught that you must pray in this way.) Start again. This time practice your type of prayer until you feel comfortable with it. Prayer is a skill, not just an automatic reflex. As Metz and Burchill put it, "We learn to pray by praying" (EP 38). Once you are comfortable using the kind of prayer that corresponds to your psychological type, begin to experiment with other types of prayer, especially those that are opposite to your most conscious type. This will protect you from falling into the danger that threatens to destroy the spiritual value of your type of prayer, if you simply remain forever in your "comfort zone".

Metz and Burchill make a similar point in their little book, The Enneagram and Prayer. In the main text they note that the style of prayer most appropriate to each personality type will be the one that complements their natural tendencies. For anyone seeking wholeness, rather than just a comfortable life, this is certainly good advice. Unfortunately, they limit their description of the types of prayer to just three: head (numbers 5, 6 and 7), heart (numbers 2, 3 and 4), and gut (numbers 8, 9 and 1). Although they do not relate these explicitly to Jung's typology, I believe there is an implicit connection that is at least as significant as their relation to the Enneagram as such.

Describing the "head" types in terms Jung would use to refer to introverts, Metz and Burchill argue that such persons need to learn to pray in externally-oriented (i.e., extraverted) ways, such as by meditating on an object (e.g., a candle), by repeating a simple word or phrase as a "mantra", or by using dance as a form of prayer (see EP 46-47,49-59). The "heart" types, being already externally-oriented (i.e., extraverts) are, they claim, more likely to have a genuine experience of God by focusing on self-expression of their own inner states; thus, they recommend charismatic prayer as most useful for these types (47-48,60-72; see below). Because the "gut" types synthesize the head (introvert) and heart (extravert) tendencies, they are naturally full of energy; silent prayer is therefore most likely to provide these types with the complementary mood necessary for authentic prayer (48-49,73-87). Although I do not agree with the assumption that the head-heart-gut distinction corresponds directly to the introvert-extravert-mixed distinction, I do believe these recommendations can be useful when applied to the latter.

Metz and Burchill provide a more helpful resource in a series of Appendices. Among other things, they give detailed lists explaining the kinds of "sinfulness" and "giftedness" each type of person will most likely need to confront in prayer, and which scriptures are likely to be most useful for this purpose. Similar resources are also provided in a more introductory book by Beesing, Nogosek, and O'Leary, entitled The Enneagram: A journey of self discovery. After giving clear and detailed descriptions of each type, they show how Jesus can be regarded as the ideal human being: he was able to overcome all nine compulsions and exhibit a truly whole personality. The remainder of their book examines numerous possible connections between different types, showing how to use the Enneagram to understand and overcome compulsions in the process of self-discovery. Throughout the book, they given numerous valuable suggestions as to how psychological types can be used to enhance a person's spirituality. Anyone interested in using the Enneagram to explore or deepen your spiritual life, or to promote personal growth through a better understanding of your psychological type, should read one of these (or several other) good introductory books.

In conclusion, let's look briefly at two of my favorite types of "alternative" prayer. For everyone but extravert intuition types (to whom it is natural), charismatic prayer is one of the most effective ways of maintaining spiritual balance. I believe every type of person can benefit by learning to practice some or all of the nine different forms (or "manifestations") of the Holy Spirit listed by St. Paul (see 1 Cor. 12:7-11). These could readily be correlated to the Jungian types. But a more obvious correlation is with the Enneagram, for the two lists both consist of three sets of three. Indeed, both can be classified into head types (with the gifts of tongues, interpretation and prophecy corresponding to numbers 5, 6 and 7), heart types (with knowledge, wisdom and discernment corresponding to numbers 2, 3 and 4), and gut types (with faith, miracles and healing corresponding to numbers 8, 9 and 1). The correlations here relate to each type's avoidance, because God works best in our weakest area (2 Cor. 12:9-10). Allowing ourselves to experience God's presence with us through these spiritual manifestations can therefore be one of the most effective ways of promoting personal growth.

Finally, contemplation is a very special, highly disciplined form of prayer that reaches to the depths of human spirituality. The books of Thomas Merton (see e.g., CP) are an invaluable resource for anyone interested in exploring this area. Merton views prayer as a many-faceted means of self-transformation (112). If we had more time this week, we could explore this and many other ways of applying psychological types to the religious life. Not only could we explore other applications relating to prayer (e.g., the mystical visions experienced by introvert intuition types), but we could show how churches and other religious groups also have distinct "personality" types-though each should aim for wholeness in order to accommodate differences in their members. For now, however, let me conclude with a warning: do not enter the spiritual life unless you are ready for transformation; for as Metz and Burchill point out (EP 40), prayer (i.e., coming into God's presence) requires "a willingness to be unmasked, unprotected and transparent."

QUESTIONS/TOPICS FOR GROUP DISCUSSION

1. Assess the strengths and weaknesses of Jung's theory of psychological types.

2. Do you think it's possible for a person ever to achieve a perfect balance between all of the psychological types? Why or why not?

3. Evaluate your own psychological type. How (if at all) does your self-assessment differ from your peers' opinions of your psychological type?

4. Describe your family (i.e., how many older/younger brothers/sisters you have). Did your family position influence your psychological type?