Journal of Analytical Psychology, 2002, 47, 629-638 The goal as process music and the search for the self Patricia Skar. Dublin Abstract: This paper explores and compares the processes of music and analysis from the author's experience as a musician, piano teacher and analyst. It explains how the use of music improvisation in analysis(with simple percussion instruments)can power- fully enhance the dialogue between the unconscious and conscious psyche, as well as deepen the relationship between analyst and analysand. This is connected theoretically to Jungs active imagination and Winnicott's concept of play within the analytic encounter Finally, the question is raised whether analytic trainings could do more to expose trainees to the possibility of using music within the analytic encounter. This touches on the more basic and controversial issue(which often separates analytical psychology and psychoanalysis)of whether expressive therapy should be used in analysis at all Key words: active imagination, analytical music therapy, improvisation, individuation process, music, piano lessons. Describing the individuation process, Jung wrote: The goal is important only as an idea; the essential thing is the opus which leads to the goal: that is the goal of a lifetime'(ung 1946/1993, para. 4oo). These words of Jung could just as easily apply to the process of music. a piece of music undergoes an individuation process in the mind of a performer, in that musicians often work on a particular opus'for a lift time. continua enewing an nd refining their expression of its essence. I remember Arthur Rubinstein saying, in a docu- mentary filmed late in his life, that he had been playing a certain Chopin Etude for fifty years and was now just beginning to understand it and play all the notes. As he had changed and matured, so had his relationship to this work of Chopin. The process of learning a musical composition requires a dialogue between conscious and unconscious processes very much like the process of in- dividuation. A performer needs his conscious functions to control the myriad facets of learning the work and to master the technical side of it. But he must also open a channel to his unconscious if he is to give more than a technically faithful rendition of the piece is somewhat natural for me to write about music and individuation since I have been a Jungian analyst for the last ten years and a musician all of my life. I started playing the piano at the age of three and violin at eight, and grew o21-8774/20o2/4704/629 O 2002, The Society of Analytical Psychology Published by Blackwell Publishers Ltd, 1o8 Cowley Road, Oxford OX4 IJF, UK and so Main Street, Malden, MA o2148, USA
0021–8774/2002/4704/629 © 2002, The Society of Analytical Psychology Published by Blackwell Publishers Ltd, 108 Cowley Road, Oxford OX4 1JF, UK and 350 Main Street, Malden, MA 02148, USA. Journal of Analytical Psychology, 2002, 47, 629–638 The goal as process: music and the search for the Self Patricia Skar, Dublin Abstract: This paper explores and compares the processes of music and analysis from the author’s experience as a musician, piano teacher and analyst. It explains how the use of music improvisation in analysis (with simple percussion instruments) can powerfully enhance the dialogue between the unconscious and conscious psyche, as well as deepen the relationship between analyst and analysand. This is connected theoretically to Jung’s active imagination and Winnicott’s concept of play within the analytic encounter. Finally, the question is raised whether analytic trainings could do more to expose trainees to the possibility of using music within the analytic encounter. This touches on the more basic and controversial issue (which often separates analytical psychology and psychoanalysis) of whether expressive therapy should be used in analysis at all. Key words: active imagination, analytical music therapy, improvisation, individuation process, music, piano lessons. Describing the individuation process, Jung wrote: ‘The goal is important only as an idea; the essential thing is the opus which leads to the goal: that is the goal of a lifetime’ (Jung 1946/1993, para. 400). These words of Jung could just as easily apply to the process of music. A piece of music undergoes an individuation process in the mind of a performer, in that musicians often work on a particular ‘opus’ for a lifetime, continually renewing and refining their expression of its essence. I remember Arthur Rubinstein saying, in a documentary filmed late in his life, that he had been playing a certain Chopin Etude for fifty years and was now just beginning to understand it and ‘play all the notes’. As he had changed and matured, so had his relationship to this work of Chopin. The process of learning a musical composition requires a dialogue between conscious and unconscious processes very much like the process of individuation. A performer needs his conscious functions to control the myriad facets of learning the work and to master the technical side of it. But he must also open a channel to his unconscious if he is to give more than a technically faithful rendition of the piece. It is somewhat natural for me to write about music and individuation since I have been a Jungian analyst for the last ten years and a musician all of my life. I started playing the piano at the age of three and violin at eight, and grew
Patricia ska up in a musical family where we all played instruments or sang I later received two degrees in music and taught piano professionally. My experiences as a stu- dent and a teacher of music (primarily of piano) seem in retrospect a natural prelude to becoming an analyst, but playing music continues to be an import- ant part of my daily life. I will never forget a marvellous piano teacher I once had, who opened our first lesson with the remark, I must tell you that i do not do therapy; I am a piano teacher and it is my responsibility to give you some insights into the music during your lesson. It was obvious that this kind, warm-hearted man had probably said this to remind himself to stick to the business of teaching rather than become emotionally involved with his students. But even though he kept his word and concentrated on the music during my lessons, being in the atmosphere of his warmth and acceptance had a tremendously therapeutic and individuating effect on me. Jung said that he preferred to ' look at man in the light of what in him is healthy and sound rather than in the light of his defects (ung 1933/1970, para. 774) This piano teacher definitely looked at my playing in the light of what wa healthy and sound, and mentioned, but did not concentrate on, my mistakes This enabled me to adopt a less perfectionistic attitude and 'ease up on myself. permitting a clearer inner pathway to the unconscious archetypal possibilities inherent in the music. This process was a lot like becoming attuned to the needs of the Self through the dialectical process of analysis. Although I was playing for him, my teacher was equally involved as he listened, and had usually worked on the same piece sometime in the past. Jung stressed that the analyst cannot take his analysand any farther than he himself has been able to go in the process of self-realization: Many times I have had the opportunity of seeing that the analyst is successful with his treatment just so far as he has succeeded in his own moral development. As we know, the analyst cannot simply use his authority to effect change because s Jung pointed out, he is in the treatment just as much as the analysand Similarly, if my teacher suggested something musically, he would invariably back this up by playing it, which showed me the sense of his conception, and more importantly, that he could do it: he had lived through it'. If he had not been able to do this, I would have been more reluctant to accept his ideas. One might remark that struggling with a musical passage is not the same as 'moral development, but any performer will readily tell you that learning a challenging piece of music develops character. At the very least, it requires the ability to stay with the physical process of learning the work until the musical goals are met In my piano teaching, many of my students were adults who were returning to the piano after studying it as children. The decision to confront the instru- ment again after many years of not playing often symbolized the facing of
up in a musical family where we all played instruments or sang. I later received two degrees in music and taught piano professionally. My experiences as a student and a teacher of music (primarily of piano) seem in retrospect a natural prelude to becoming an analyst, but playing music continues to be an important part of my daily life. I will never forget a marvellous piano teacher I once had, who opened our first lesson with the remark, ‘I must tell you that I do not do therapy; I am a piano teacher and it is my responsibility to give you some insights into the music during your lesson’. It was obvious that this kind, warm-hearted man had probably said this to remind himself to stick to the business of teaching rather than become emotionally involved with his students. But even though he kept his word and concentrated on the music during my lessons, being in the atmosphere of his warmth and acceptance had a tremendously therapeutic and individuating effect on me. Jung said that he preferred to ‘look at man in the light of what in him is healthy and sound’ rather than in the light of his defects (Jung 1933/1970, para. 774). This piano teacher definitely looked at my playing in the light of what was healthy and sound, and mentioned, but did not concentrate on, my mistakes. This enabled me to adopt a less perfectionistic attitude and ‘ease up’ on myself, permitting a clearer inner pathway to the unconscious archetypal possibilities inherent in the music. This process was a lot like becoming attuned to the needs of the Self through the dialectical process of analysis. Although I was playing for him, my teacher was equally involved as he listened, and had usually worked on the same piece sometime in the past. Jung stressed that the analyst cannot take his analysand any farther than he himself has been able to go in the process of self-realization: Many times I have had the opportunity of seeing that the analyst is successful with his treatment just so far as he has succeeded in his own moral development. (Ibid., para. 587) As we know, the analyst cannot simply use his authority to effect change because, as Jung pointed out, he is in the treatment just as much as the analysand. Similarly, if my teacher suggested something musically, he would invariably back this up by playing it, which showed me the sense of his conception, and more importantly, that he could do it: he had ‘lived through it’. If he had not been able to do this, I would have been more reluctant to accept his ideas. One might remark that struggling with a musical passage is not the same as ‘moral development’, but any performer will readily tell you that learning a challenging piece of music develops character. At the very least, it requires the ability to stay with the physical process of learning the work until the musical goals are met. In my piano teaching, many of my students were adults who were returning to the piano after studying it as children. The decision to confront the instrument again after many years of not playing often symbolized the facing of 630 Patricia Skar
Music and the search for the Self an important aspect of themselves which had been neglected. Often, I saw that the actual, physical process of playing the piano was a potent catalyst to facing long-repressed feelings from childhood. For many people whom I taught, earliest experiences of playing an instrument had been severely contaminated, their original joy and playfulness nearly destroyed by technical and performance demands imposed on them by parents and teachers. But somehow, later in life, heir original desire to make music had returned. Now it was necessary to do this with someone who could hold their attempts with love, and in the spirit of play. In this connection, it is important to remember that finding the right music is crucial. Music contains the opposites: it not only potentially lifts our souls to heaven but can also throw them into hell when we are forced to listen to or learn a piece of music we do not like. I took special care to encourage my students to play music they really loved, not just the standard repertoire. I found that an attraction to certain types of music may indicate what is lying dormant in the nconscious, or what aspects of the personality are in need of balance In many cases, my students seemed to prefer music which exhibited complementary qualities to what appeared to be their dominant conscious attitude or characteristics. This is similar to what Jung had to say about the dream: the first question we should ask, in interpreting a dream, is 'What con- scious attitude does it compensate? 'It is interesting in this context that Duke Ellington, when asked about his music, said that what he played wasnt music it was'dreaming(quoted in a BBC2 programme, Jazz: pure pleasure,, aired on 4th July, 2001). a While training to become an analyst, I wondered about the possibilities of niching analysis with some aspect of the musical process which had informed my own personality and life experience. In my research, I naturally first looked for what Jung had to say about music, and found disappointingly little(there are only a handful of references to music in the Collected Works). Interestingly, though, I discovered that he had met, late in his life(I956), the concert pianist and music therapist Margaret Tilly, who for many years was Head Music Therapist at the Langley Porter Clinic in San Francisco. Prior to her trip to Switzerland, Tilly had sent some of her case histories to Jung, and he was so impressed with them that he invited her to his home to discuss her work. As Tilly describes their meeting, Jung told her that he had always thought music therapy was sentimental and superficial, but that her papers were entirely different. Jung asked her to treat him as if he were one of her own patients, and as she alternately played and related case histories, Jung was more and more deeply moved, finally saying: This opens up whole new avenues of research I'd never even dreamed of. Because of what you' ve shown me this afternoon-not just what you' ve said, but what I have ctually felt and experienced -I feel that from now on music should be an essential part of every analysis. This reaches the deep archetypal material that we can only sometimes reach in our analytical work with patients. This is most remarkable. ly 1956/1977,p.275)
an important aspect of themselves which had been neglected. Often, I saw that the actual, physical process of playing the piano was a potent catalyst to facing long-repressed feelings from childhood. For many people whom I taught, their earliest experiences of playing an instrument had been severely contaminated, their original joy and playfulness nearly destroyed by technical and performance demands imposed on them by parents and teachers. But somehow, later in life, their original desire to make music had returned. Now it was necessary to do this with someone who could hold their attempts with love, and in the spirit of play. In this connection, it is important to remember that finding the right music is crucial. Music contains the opposites: it not only potentially lifts our souls to heaven but can also throw them into hell when we are forced to listen to or learn a piece of music we do not like. I took special care to encourage my students to play music they really loved, not just the ‘standard repertoire’. I found that an attraction to certain types of music may indicate what is lying dormant in the unconscious, or what aspects of the personality are in need of balance. In many cases, my students seemed to prefer music which exhibited complementary qualities to what appeared to be their dominant conscious attitude or characteristics. This is similar to what Jung had to say about the dream: the first question we should ask, in interpreting a dream, is ‘What conscious attitude does it compensate?’ It is interesting in this context that Duke Ellington, when asked about his music, said that what he played wasn’t music, it was ‘dreaming’ (quoted in a BBC2 programme, ‘Jazz: pure pleasure’, aired on 4th July, 2001). While training to become an analyst, I wondered about the possibilities of enriching analysis with some aspect of the musical process which had informed my own personality and life experience. In my research, I naturally first looked for what Jung had to say about music, and found disappointingly little (there are only a handful of references to music in the Collected Works). Interestingly, though, I discovered that he had met, late in his life (1956), the concert pianist and music therapist Margaret Tilly, who for many years was Head Music Therapist at the Langley Porter Clinic in San Francisco. Prior to her trip to Switzerland, Tilly had sent some of her case histories to Jung, and he was so impressed with them that he invited her to his home to discuss her work. As Tilly describes their meeting, Jung told her that he had always thought music therapy was sentimental and superficial, but that her papers were ‘entirely different’. Jung asked her to treat him as if he were one of her own patients, and as she alternately played and related case histories, Jung was more and more deeply moved, finally saying: This opens up whole new avenues of research I’d never even dreamed of. Because of what you’ve shown me this afternoon – not just what you’ve said, but what I have actually felt and experienced – I feel that from now on music should be an essential part of every analysis. This reaches the deep archetypal material that we can only sometimes reach in our analytical work with patients. This is most remarkable. (Tilly 1956/1977, p. 275) Music and the search for the Self 631
632 Patricia ska Since we only have Tillys account of their meeting and nothing written independently by Jung about the experience, we certainly cannot use this quotation as a justification for making music apa art of every analy sis’. Never theless, given what we know about Jung 's enthusiasm for other forms of expressive therapy, Tillys report of his reactions seems plausible. Six years before her visit, Jung had been asked to write an article about the role of music in the collective unconscious. He had declined the request on the grounds of age and health, but what he says in his letter is worth noting Music expresses, in some way, the movement of the feelings(or emotional values that cling to the unconscious processes.. music represents the movement, develop- ment and transformation of the motifs of the collective unconscious ung 1973, p.54 Notice how Jung emphasizes the idea of'movement in this passage, using the vord twice along with the action words'development'and transformation In contrast, he speaks of emotional values that to unconscious processes Of course, music literally is movement(as sound is vibration)and the unique feature of the musical experience is that it takes place in time. ' Emotional values' would seem to be something more fixed, and we could imagine that they might sometimes be in conflict with feelings which want to ' move, develop, and transform. So, if listening to music initially connects us to our unconscious processes, it can do so because its inner workings, expressed in melody, harmony, rhythm, tempo, and overall form, are archetypal in nature connect us to the deep archetypal strata in our own natures Jung probably realized music's kinship to his concept of active imagination during his meeting with Margaret Tilly. Perhaps if he had been exposed to her work earlier in his life, he would have experimented with its possibilities in the same way he encouraged patients to draw and paint their fantasies. However he does say that active imagination.. could be done in any number of ways, dramatic, dialectic, visual, acoustic, or in the form of dancing, painting, draw ing, or modeling 'ung I954/1969, para. 4oo). Jung assumed that the healing power of active imagination resided in the unconscious contents being engaged by the conscious mind in creative activity. The forms of expression that he saw emerging with himself and his patients had archetypal elements: circles, squares, the union of opposites in a third, light and dark, etc. (ibid., para. 4oI) Jung noticed that when he and his patients consciously worked with these abstract principles coming out of the unconscious, the activity produced a self organizing effect in their personal lives. We could say that, in active imagin ation, psychic space for new patterns of thinking emerges, and also that the conscious mind is somehow tuned by giving outer form to material that comes out of the deep structural layers of the unconscious As my analytic training neared its conclusion and I continued to strug with the music and analysis question, I discovered a technique of music therapy
Since we only have Tilly’s account of their meeting and nothing written independently by Jung about the experience, we certainly cannot use this quotation as a justification for making music a ‘part of every analysis’. Nevertheless, given what we know about Jung’s enthusiasm for other forms of expressive therapy, Tilly’s report of his reactions seems plausible. Six years before her visit, Jung had been asked to write an article about the role of music in the collective unconscious. He had declined the request on the grounds of ‘age and health’, but what he says in his letter is worth noting: Music expresses, in some way, the movement of the feelings (or emotional values) that cling to the unconscious processes … music represents the movement, development, and transformation of the motifs of the collective unconscious. (Jung 1973, p. 542) Notice how Jung emphasizes the idea of ‘movement’ in this passage, using the word twice along with the action words ‘development’ and ‘transformation’. In contrast, he speaks of emotional values that ‘cling’ to unconscious processes. Of course, music literally is movement (as sound is vibration) and the unique feature of the musical experience is that it takes place in time. ‘Emotional values’ would seem to be something more fixed, and we could imagine that they might sometimes be in conflict with feelings which want to ‘move, develop, and transform’. So, if listening to music initially connects us to our unconscious processes, it can do so because its inner workings, expressed in melody, harmony, rhythm, tempo, and overall form, are archetypal in nature, and connect us to the deep archetypal strata in our own natures. Jung probably realized music’s kinship to his concept of active imagination during his meeting with Margaret Tilly. Perhaps if he had been exposed to her work earlier in his life, he would have experimented with its possibilities in the same way he encouraged patients to draw and paint their fantasies. However, he does say that active imagination ‘… could be done in any number of ways, dramatic, dialectic, visual, acoustic, or in the form of dancing, painting, drawing, or modeling’ (Jung 1954/1969, para. 400). Jung assumed that the healing power of active imagination resided in the unconscious contents being engaged by the conscious mind in creative activity. The forms of expression that he saw emerging with himself and his patients had archetypal elements: circles, squares, the union of opposites in a third, light and dark, etc. (ibid., para. 401). Jung noticed that when he and his patients consciously worked with these abstract principles coming out of the unconscious, the activity produced a selforganizing effect in their personal lives. We could say that, in active imagination, psychic space for new patterns of thinking emerges, and also that the conscious mind is somehow ‘tuned’ by giving outer form to material that comes out of the deep structural layers of the unconscious. As my analytic training neared its conclusion and I continued to struggle with the music and analysis question, I discovered a technique of music therapy 632 Patricia Skar
Music and the search for the Self based on analytic principles known as Analytic Music Therapy(hereafter AMT). Formulated in London in the igos by Mary Priestley, Peter Wright and Marjorie Wardle, it is based on the analytic principles of Freud, Jung and Klein, and can be broadly defined as the use of words and symbolic music improvisations to explore the patient 's inner life and facilitate growth. Mary Priestley is primarily responsible for clinically testing and refining the method, and I later trained with her in London. AMT uses improvisation with simple percussion instruments(the main criteria being that they need no skill to play and can be practised with individuals or in a small group setting After my training in AMT, I put together a collection of these percussion in- struments, which I keep in a corner bookshelf in my analytic consulting room. I also have art materials in the same part of the room which are available for spontaneous drawing during sessions. In both cases I would not normally in- itiate the use of these forms of expressive therapy unless the patient expressed an interest, beyond simply stating that these options are available if it becomes appropriate in our work. How a patient actually comes to the experience of using the instruments during a session is a very individual thing. Sometimes an analysand may simply ask to try the instruments, in which case we may set ide some time to explore them during a session. While trying them out, the patient may feel an emotional connection to a particular instrument, or a sound may constellate a memory. After the initial exp ploration, I usually conclude by inviting the patient to feel free to return to the instruments, should the right moment within a session arise. At other times the desire to use the instruments may arise from a dream image that the patient would like to'try in sound. Or it may simply be a feeling state that they want to express in sound While only a small minority of my patients elect to try the instruments, those who do usually find the first time much more formidable than drawing Many are afraid that they will make bad'sounds, even though none of the instruments takes any skill to play. We all know that a bad sound is much worse than a bad picture the sound literally hits us with an acoustic impact, while we can choose not to look at a picture. However, it has been my experi- ence that once an analysand gets beyond the initial fear of playing badly, the benefit from this means of expression in terms of accessing unconscious material is substantial. For example, just the sound of a particular instrument can constellate a repressed memory or forgotten state of mind. Many analysands seem to intuitively choose instruments which enable them to return to or ena a repressed aspect of themselves. If it seems appropriate and they agree, I might also play another instrument in dialogue with the person. When this works well, the analysand may not necessarily be aware of my playing at all For a fuller description of Analytical Music Therapy, see: Priestley, M. (1975). Music Therapy in Action. With a Foreword by Dr. E. G. Wooster. London: Constable(rev. ed. 1985, St. Louis Magnamusic-Baton), or Priestley, M. (1994). Essays on Analytical Music Therapy, Phoenixville PA: Barcelona publishers
based on analytic principles known as Analytic Music Therapy (hereafter ‘AMT’). Formulated in London in the 1970s by Mary Priestley, Peter Wright, and Marjorie Wardle, it is based on the analytic principles of Freud, Jung and Klein, and can be broadly defined as the use of words and symbolic music improvisations to explore the patient’s inner life and facilitate growth. Mary Priestley is primarily responsible for clinically testing and refining the method, and I later trained with her in London. AMT uses improvisation with simple percussion instruments (the main criteria being that they need no skill to play!) and can be practised with individuals or in a small group setting.1 After my training in AMT, I put together a collection of these percussion instruments, which I keep in a corner bookshelf in my analytic consulting room. I also have art materials in the same part of the room which are available for spontaneous drawing during sessions. In both cases I would not normally initiate the use of these forms of expressive therapy unless the patient expressed an interest, beyond simply stating that these options are available if it becomes appropriate in our work. How a patient actually comes to the experience of using the instruments during a session is a very individual thing. Sometimes an analysand may simply ask to try the instruments, in which case we may set aside some time to explore them during a session. While trying them out, the patient may feel an emotional connection to a particular instrument, or a sound may constellate a memory. After the initial exploration, I usually conclude by inviting the patient to feel free to return to the instruments, should the right moment within a session arise. At other times the desire to use the instruments may arise from a dream image that the patient would like to ‘try in sound’. Or it may simply be a feeling state that they want to express in sound. While only a small minority of my patients elect to try the instruments, those who do usually find the first time much more formidable than drawing. Many are afraid that they will make ‘bad’ sounds, even though none of the instruments takes any skill to play. We all know that a bad sound is much worse than a bad picture – the sound literally hits us with an acoustic impact, while we can choose not to look at a picture. However, it has been my experience that once an analysand gets beyond the initial fear of playing badly, the benefit from this means of expression in terms of accessing unconscious material is substantial. For example, just the sound of a particular instrument can constellate a repressed memory or forgotten state of mind. Many analysands seem to intuitively choose instruments which enable them to return to or enact a repressed aspect of themselves. If it seems appropriate and they agree, I might also play another instrument in dialogue with the person. When this works well, the analysand may not necessarily be aware of my playing at all, Music and the search for the Self 633 1 For a fuller description of Analytical Music Therapy, see: Priestley, M. (1975). Music Therapy in Action. With a Foreword by Dr. E. G. Wooster. London: Constable (rev. ed. 1985, St. Louis: Magnamusic-Baton), or Priestley, M. (1994). Essays on Analytical Music Therapy, Phoenixville, PA: Barcelona Publishers