The Archetypal Bridge: From Postmodern relativism to participatory pluralism

“The universe does not exist “out there,” independent of us. We are inescapably involved in bringing about what appears to be happening. We are not only observers; we are participators. In some strange sense this is a participatory universe.” 

––John Wheeler

“The participatory turn can be seen as an attempt to pave a middle way between the Scylla of an authoritarian absolutism and the Charybdis of a self-contradictory and morally pernicious relativism.” 

––Jorge Ferrer, Revisioning Transpersonal Theory

“Participation mystique involves a complex sense of direct inner participation not only of human beings in the world but also of human beings in the divine powers, through ritual, and of divine powers in the world, by virtue of their immanent and transformative presence. The participation is multidirectional and multidimensional, pervasive and encompassing.”

––Richard Tarnas, Cosmos and Psyche

The journey of cosmological disenchantment has brought us to our current predicament of a post-truth world that is drowning in the soup of postmodernity. Perhaps we can blame the Cartesian-Kantian paradigm for being overbearingly sticky. Or perhaps, this modern project is reaching its crescendo in the grand symphony we call human consciousness. Regardless, it is evident that humanity has arrived at an evolutionary junction. With the ecological crisis confronting our very own existence, a revolutionary shift in worldview seems to be one of the most significant ways in which we can redeem our natural place on this planet. Does this entail a return to a primal state of being? Not quite. The birth of an ecological civilization may come into being when individuals wake up to a world that is neither subjective nor objective, but rather, what I consider to be intersubjective. Thus, the wisdom of our prehistoric ancestors – in which the permeability of the human being was of essence – is fused with the modern mind that has been on a heroic journey of claiming and centering the anima mundi onto itself. As we currently stand at a metaphysical crossroads between objectivity and subjectivity, the inclination may be to choose either or. However, the challenge of modernity is to seek the in-between state, and thus paving a middle path is of prime importance. As Charles Taylor writes in Sources of the Self: “A modern who recognizes both these powers is constitutionally in tension (1989).” Depicting the modern state of mind as a tension between the Enlightenment (objectivity) and Romanticism (subjectivity), Taylor shines light on our inevitable fate of having to hold multiple moral sources to navigate our evolutionary unfolding. Therefore, the alchemical reaction between objectivity and subjectivity will give rise to the inclusion of an intersubjective mode of perception – which could also be understood as the transpersonal dimension – and will bring forth a human being that integrates ancient and modern epistemologies by living in a universe that is filled with meaning and purpose; while also embracing the co-creative aspect of reality, in which each subject’s autonomy is recognized through conscious participation

Before we embark on the participatory turn, it is crucial to deeply empathize with the historical lineage of our current state of affairs. Postmodernism is perhaps a reaction to religious absolutism that has pervaded human consciousness for centuries. Yet, it can also be seen as a countermovement to the Enlightenment, in which scientific objectivity reigned supreme, and a disenchanted worldview took hold. “Disenchantment, the denial of intrinsic meaning and purpose,” writes Richard Tarnas

“essentially objectifies the world and thereby denies subjectivity to the world. Objectification denies to the world a subject’s capacity to intend, to signify intelligently, to express its meaning, to embody and communicate humanly relevant purposes and values. To objectify the world is to remove from it all subjective categories, such as meaning and purpose, by perceiving these as projections of what are now regarded as the only true subjects, human beings (2006).”

And thus, like the Romantics, the postmodern being embraces subjectivity as the ultimate truth. However, in contrast to Romantic expressivism and the belief in “nature as an inner source (Taylor, 1989),” the subjectivity of postmodernity has taken a nihilistic turn. To perceive human beings as the only true subject unnecessarily magnifies the role of subjectivity. We end up in a reality that is overwhelmed by uncertainty and skepticism. Everything is true and not true at the same time because what you perceive to be true may not be what I believe to be true. Yet, your truth is true, and therefore, perception is reality. 

The moderner’s belief in the primacy of human perception can most certainly be traced back to Rene Descartes’s most famous statement: “ergo cogito sum (I think therefore I am).” By utilizing the method of doubt in his Meditations, Descartes philosophizes on the certainty of reality. He concludes that all he can be certain of is his existence, since doubting his very own existence implies that he has the capacity to think about it. And thus, thinking is equated to existing. This strong emphasis on the Cartesian cogito led Descartes to bifurcate reality into mind and matter (Cottingham, 1996). However, Descartes is not entirely to blame for the grand entry of dualism into the consciousness of the modern being. As Sean Kelly elucidates in Coming Home, there is a triphasic pattern that underlies the evolution of consciousness: identity, differentiation, and new identity. With the differentiation phase signifying the modern condition of disenchantment, Cartesian dualism can clearly be seen as a crucial process – separation of the self through the crystallization of the ego – that will eventually lead into the phase of a new (possibly) planetary identity (2010). While Descartes’s philosophy has had a powerful effect on the Western mind, it is important to note that he was conceivably one of many who created a profound narrative that became the ground of modernity. As Taylor elucidates: “philosophers helped articulate the change; and no doubt this articulation added force and impetus to it. But they did not originate it, much less bring it about unaided (1989).” Lastly, while Descartes’s emphasis on subjectivity aligns with postmodern relativism, his Cartesian dualism undeniably falls into a state of absolutism on the nature of reality. 

And riding on this dualistic train is also Immanuel Kant. Although Kant was reacting to Descartes’s rationalism and David Hume’s empiricism, he initiated subjectivity into a transcendental state. Since the mind was clearly distinct from the external world, Kant proposed that our knowledge of reality is always filtered through human perception, which is preinstalled with certain categories (e.g. space and time). And thus, direct experience of reality is inconceivable. In a Cartesian fashion, Kant separated perception into two realms: phenomena (appearances) and noumena (things-in-themselves). Like the Copernican revolution in cosmology, Kant had created a revolution in epistemology by articulating the powerful role that the human mind plays in shaping the world of experience. Kant’s solution to the skepticism of his predecessors has transmuted into a problem that the modern mind needs to face. As Tarnas says: 

“Kant had drawn attention to the crucial fact that all human knowledge is interpretive. The human mind can claim no direct mirrorlike knowledge of the objective world, for the object it experiences has already been structured by the subject’s own internal organization. The human being knows not the world-in-itself but rather the world-as-rendered-by-the-human-mind. Thus Descartes’s ontological schism was both made more absolute and superseded by Kant’s epistemological schism. The gap between subject and object could not be certifiably bridged. From the Cartesian premise came the Kantian result (1991).”

With Kant’s powerful epistemological proposition, we can understand the role that subjectivity plays in conditioning the modern mind. Along with this subjective relativism, we also find a strong absolutism in Kant’s separation of phenomena and noumena. So now, it is evident that the postmodern being is slowly initiating itself into a paradoxical realm – having to hold multiple sources (objectivity and subjectivity; relativism and absolutism, etc.) – as the yearning for a solid ground becomes evermore pronounced in the hidden depths of our collective consciousness. 

If the tyranny of one pole (e.g. subjectivity/relativism) entails the inevitable defeat of the other (e.g. objectivity/absolutism), then the urge to speculate on the inherent necessity of the two poles becomes clear. Although it may seem paradoxical to accept both at once – the existence of an absolute and relative reality – the conscious effort to hold and eventually integrate such paradoxes will only aid humanity’s progress into the next evolutionary phase of an integral consciousness. On the role of this paradox, transpersonal theorist, Jorge Ferrer writes:

“To turn paradoxes into self-contradictory statements is tempting, but I would argue that the transpersonal eye may see in this more a retreat into Cartesian habits of thinking, rather than, for example, a movement towards transconceptual and contemplative modes. From a transpersonal perspective, that is, the movement beyond absolutism and relativism can be seen not as self-contradictory, but as paradoxical. As paradoxical, the issue it raises cannot be completely solved in the arena of formal (bivalent) logic or by newer, improved, or more encompassing paradigms. Although paradoxes cannot be conceptually solved, they can be transcended in the realm of human action and experience. In my opinion, for example, many of the paradoxes raised by nonabsolutist approaches disappear when one realizes that, rather than philosophical positions to be logically defended in an absolutist domain of discourse, they are attitudes towards life and other human beings characterized by both an openness to understand and be enriched by what is different, and a surrendering to the Mystery that can never be fully apprehended by the mind. As attitudes towards life rather than as philosophical positions, these approaches can be criticized, but not refuted. And here is where the potential transformative power of paradox truly emerges: Paradoxes are doorways to transpersonal ways of being because, by ineluctably (and often humorously) showing the limits of rational-logical thinking, they invite us to expand our consciousness and enter the space of transrational mode of being and cognition (2002).”

Thus the intersubjective mode – which I will now refer to as the transpersonal – uncovers a previously hidden aspect of our multidimensional existence. According to Ferrer, the transpersonal realm comes into conscious awareness through our participation in a co-creative reality. Ferrer’s conceptualization of a participatory epistemology is a paradigm shifting approach to opening more doors of perception that inhabit our creaturely existence. What he refers to as participatory knowing, is “a multidimensional access to reality that includes not only the intellectual knowing of the mind, but also the emotional and empathic knowing of the heart, the sensual and somatic knowing of the body, the visionary and intuitive knowing of the soul, as well as any other ways of knowing available to human beings (2002).” However, with participatory theory embracing a pluralistic nature, the validity of postmodern relativism becomes a complex area of  philosophical questioning, which I will explore in further detail momentarily. 

To hold the tension between religious absolutism and spiritual relativism, Ferrer provides a unique metaphor that also aids in the avoidance of  falling into the classic perennialist account: 

“A more cogent way to explain the diversity of spiritual claims is––and this is where contextualist analyses are helpful––to hold that the various traditions lead to the enactment of different spiritual ultimates and/or transconceptual disclosures of reality. Although these spiritual ultimates may apparently share some qualities (e.g. nonduality in sunyata and Brhmajñana), they constitute independent religious aims whose conflation may prove to be a serious mistake. In terms of our metaphor, we could say, then, that the Ocean of Emancipation has many shores (2002).”

Thus, rather than viewing spirituality and religion through the philosophy of “one mountain, many paths,“ in which all paths are understood to lead to Ultimate Reality, Ferrer’s revisioning of transpersonal psychology provides one with the empathy to perceive that we all emerge from a co-creative Mystery (the ocean), out of which we disembark on a shore that signifies our own unique expression of that mystery. Psychonaut and religious scholar, Christopher Bache, has in fact provided first-hand experience of this co-creative mystery, which he also refers to as The Ocean of Suffering (2019). In a thorough recollection of his 73 high-dose LSD sessions – following the protocols of Stanislav Grof’s holotropic framework – Bache describes the recurring experience of having to deeply suffer through the collective unconscious of humanity. Carl Jung, who coined the term collective unconscious explains this hidden structure of our psyche: 

“A more or less superficial layer of the unconscious is undoubtedly personal. I call it the personal unconscious. But this personal unconscious rests upon a deeper layer, which does not derive from personal experience and is not a personal acquisition but is inborn. This deeper layer I call the collective unconscious. I have chosen the term “collective” because this part of the unconscious is not individual but universal; in contrast to the personal psyche, it has contents and modes of behavior that are more or less the same everywhere and in all individuals. It is, in other words, identical in all men and thus constitutes a common psychic substrate of a suprapersonal nature which is present in everyone of us (1969).”

By exploring the depths of his own personal unconscious via participatory psychedelia (Segall, 2013), Bache entered into the collective unconscious in quite a spiritually painful manner. Grof, having examined countless psychedelic sessions with various patients has shown that Bache’s experience is not an anomaly. “A subject can experience himself,” writes Grof

“as thousand soldiers who have died on the battlefields of the whole world from the beginning of time, as the tortured victims of the Spanish Inquisition, as prisoners of concentration camps, as patients dying of terminal diseases, as aging individuals who are decrepit and senile, as mothers and children dying during delivery, or as inmates maltreated in chronic wards of insane asylums (1976).”

By experiencing the historical pain of humanity, which in many ways has been co-created by our species, sheds light on the fact that subjectivity and objectivity are deeply interwoven in the transpersonal realm. Bache’s “ocean of suffering” is just one of infinite dimensions that constitute the undetermined mystery in Ferrer’s “ocean of emancipation.” Although both Ferrer and Bache’s oceanic metaphors hint to an ultimate nature (the ocean signifying undifferentiated oneness), it undeniably carries a multiplicity of expressions (everything that lives within and brings life to the ocean). Ultimately, Ferrer does a stupendous job of  holding the tension of absolutism and relativism, while birthing a new understanding of our relationship to reality: participatory pluralism

Yet, within a postmodern framework, the question of differentiating between relativism and pluralism becomes salient. So let’s begin by exploring the etymologies of these two terms: ‘relativism’ stemming from the Latin root of relativus means “compared to each other;” while ‘pluralism,’ also rooted in Latin from the word pluralis, means “of or belonging to more than one, belonging to many.” Another way to understand the difference between the two words is by meditating on the nature of time. Albert Einstein’s theory of special relativity determined that time is relative; implying that time passes differently depending on one’s speed and mass (e.g. a moving person experiences a shorter duration of time than a person who is stationary) Thus, in Einstein’s 4-dimensional block universe, time is elastic. On the other hand, Carlo Rovelli, one of the founders of loop quantum gravity theory, puts a microscopic lens to this grand cosmological painting, in his book The Order of Time, as he explains how the quanta of time expresses plurality:

“Time has loosened into a network of relations that no longer holds together as a coherent canvas. The picture of spacetimes (in the plural) fluctuating, superimposed one above another, materializing at certain times with respect to particular objects, provides us with a very vague vision. But it is the best that we have for the fine granularity of the world. We are peering into the world of quantum gravity (2018).”

And so, in the quantum world, there is no such thing as “time.” Instead, we are interwoven with different “times.” In a relativistic reality, one can only experience their own time in relation to another person’s time. While in a pluralistic world, one has the capacity to participate with an infinite expression of times, symbolizing the transpersonal nature of our psyches. In turn, postmodern relativism upholds a comparative, divisive, and nonchalant attitude; while participatory pluralism embraces a multidimensional, empathic, and engaging worldview. 

Furthermore, Ferrer emphasizes a non-hierarchical approach to participatory spirituality, as he says: the “epistemic value [of transpersonal phenomena] emerges––not from any preestablished hierarchy of spiritual insights––but from the events’ emancipatory and transformative power on self, community, and world (2017).” However, I am inclined to suggest that archetypal astrology may be a valuable lens through which one can perceive the radical pluralism that pervades the cosmos, and in turn, consciously participate with the world in a multidimensional manner. Although this could suggest a hierarchy of some sort, it may simultaneously be hinting towards the transcendence of an overall hierarchy. In short, I am implying that archetypal astrology can be the ground on which the moderner stands, contemplates, practices, and ultimately actualizes an integral/planetary consciousness. Tarnas discreetly alludes to this archetypal cosmos in the epilogue of The Passion of the Western Mind:

“The bold conjectures and myths that the human mind produces in its quest for knowledge ultimately come from something far deeper than a purely human source. They come from the wellspring of nature itself, from the universal unconscious that is bringing forth through the human mind and human imagination its own gradually unfolding reality. In this view, the theory of a Copernicus, a Newton, or an Einstein is not simply due to the luck of a stranger; rather, it reflects the human mind’s radical kinship with the cosmos. It reflects the human mind’s pivotal role as vehicle of the universe’s unfolding meaning. In this view, neither the postmodern skeptic nor the perennialist philosopher is correct in their shared opinion that the modern scientific paradigm is ultimately without any cosmic foundation. For that paradigm is itself part of a larger evolutionary process (1992).”

Thereafter, Tarnas schematizes the way in which the Music of the Spheres plays its grand symphony to the drama that unfolds on Earth in his book Cosmos and Psyche. On top of his deep historical analysis of the West, Tarnas applies the angular relationships and archetypal characteristics of the ten planets in our solar system to portray the deep intricate patterning that appears between the two realms through formal causation and final causation. Among the four Aristotelian causes (material, formal, efficient, and final), formal causation explains how universal forms come into being (e.g. the cause that directs an acorn to take its form), and final causation depicts the teleological process (e.g. how the acorn moves from sapling to oak tree to dying oak). Formal and final causation provide the ground for Jung’s theory of synchronicity, which “has something to do with time or, to be more accurate with a kind of meaningful coincidence of two or more events, where something other than the probability of chance is involved (Main, 1998).” Building on Jung’s synchronicity, Tarnas describes how the interconnection between psyche and cosmos cannot be understood through material causation, but rather through archetypal causation:

“Given the nature of the evidence now known, it is difficult to imagine any physical factor that could serve as the ultimate source or medium of the observed astrological correlations. At least on the basis of the principal categories of data I have examined, it seems to me highly unlikely that the planets send out physical emanations, like electromagnetic radiation, that causally influence events in human life in a mechanistic way so as to produce the observed correlations. The range of correspondences between planetary positions and human existence is just too vast and multidimensional––too manifestly ordered by structures of meaning, too suggestive of creative intelligence, too vividly informed by aesthetic patterning, too metaphorically multivalent, too experientially complex and nuanced, and too responsive to human participatory inflection––to be explained by straightforward material factors alone (2006).” 

Thus, Tarnas is indicating that there is a mysterious poetry to the way in which astrology works. And while our Cartesian-Newtonian minds may feel inclined to rationalize such complex beauty, it is only through participatory knowing that we can come to fully embody the archetypal way of being. As cosmologist, Brian Swimme says, “For just as the Milky Way is the universe in the form of a galaxy, and an orchid is the universe in the form of a flower, we are the universe in the form of a human. And every time we are drawn to look up into the night sky and reflect on the awesome beauty of the universe, we are actually the universe reflecting on itself (Swimme & Tucker, 2011).” And yet, through archetypal astrology, one has the capacity to see the infinite expressions of the solar system right here on Earth: Sun, in the shining hero; Moon, in the relationship between mother and child; Mercury, in the written word of a philosopher; Venus, in the artist’s portrayal of love; Mars, in the warrior’s battle; Jupiter, in the laughter of a fellow traveler; Saturn, in the wrinkles of grandparents; Uranus, in the moment of insight; Neptune, in the ocean of bliss; and Pluto, in the animal’s evolutionary instinct to survive. 

While all the ten planets have distinct archetypal qualities, each archetype is nonetheless multidimensional, multivalent, and multifaceted in its expression. Thus, archetypal astrology does not allow for concrete prediction, but rather archetypal prediction. For instance, if there is an upcoming Saturn-Pluto world transit, then it becomes apparent that the world will experience the archetypal quality that embraces a combination between the Saturn archetype and Pluto archetype which can unfold as: “challenging historical periods marked by a pervasive quality of intense contraction: eras of international crisis and conflict, empowerment of reactionary forces and totalitarian impulses, organized violence and oppression, all sometimes marked by lasting traumatic effects (Tarnas, 2006).” In turn, the Saturn-Pluto complex can manifest as a pandemic, financial crisis, or the incarceration of a loved one, to just name a few examples. Our collective participation (whether conscious or unconscious) with world transits can be considered under Ferrer’s map of participatory theory as transpersonal cocreation (2017). Along with the planetary movements and the way in which multiple transits unfold simultaneously – a Uranus-Pluto and Uranus-Neptune transit occurring together (i.e., times) – the multivalent dimension to the archetypes also shed light on the ineluctable nature of a pluralistic reality. As for the participatory aspect, let’s imagine a woman who has a Venus-Saturn complex in their birth chart. One valence of Venus-Saturn can manifest in the woman’s life in the form of rejecting her husband’s love. However, since archetypal astrology carries a multidirectional nature, the woman’s particular participation with the Venus-Saturn complex can have a reflexive quality to it. Thus, by rejecting her husband’s love, his hurtful reaction may in turn be felt in her psyche and external body language as a Venus-Saturn complex. In this situation – what Ferrer would describe as interpersonal cocreation – the enactive nature of participation becomes apparent (2017). Since the enactive paradigm of cognition indicates that there is a feedback loop between mind and environment, it is evident then, that the perceiver becomes the perceived. Physicist, John Wheeler also hinted to this dialectical relationship between humans and nature in his participatory paradigm. Utilizing the game of twenty questions as an analogy, Wheeler claims that “in nature, by asking questions we initiate the process of nature’s response, which, in the course of enquiry leads us to the constitution of that which we intuitively aimed (Nesteruk, 2013).” 

Since participation with the planetary archetypes can unfold in infinitely various ways, I believe archetypal astrology is the doorway into a truly pluralistic form of participatory spirituality. For instance, a person practicing Islam in a certain region may come to appreciate their religion under a Saturn-Pluto valence; while they may also find themselves interested in studying Zen Buddhism, which could be an expression of Saturn-Neptune for them. At the same time, their exploration of the Saturn-Pluto complex may manifest in their daily practice of gardening; while Saturn-Neptune may appear in their evening exercise of backstroke swimming. Thus, archetypal astrology also fulfills Ferrer’s dimension of intrapersonal cocreation which “affirms the importance of being rooted in spirit within (i.e., the immanent dimension of the mystery) and renders participatory spirituality essentially embodied (2017).” Lastly, if one were still embodying a relativistic worldview, then their specific manifestation of a certain complex (e.g. Pluto-Mercury) may be compared to another person who has the exact same complex. However, this is considered as an unhealthy approach to archetypal practice. Only in a pluralistic paradigm can one understand and fully embrace the multivalence of each archetypal complex. 

Thus far I have demonstrated that archetypal astrology can be a strong bridge from postmodern relativism to participatory pluralism. So then, if we were to return to Ferrer’s metaphor of “an ocean with many shores,” we could see the ocean as the archetypal Mystery which is always in potentia, and the many shores representing each individual that has actualized itself in the form of a unique birth chart. Yet paradoxically, the collective unconscious inherent in Bache’s “ocean of suffering,” is indicative of the objective immortality that embraces the co-creative Mystery. Within Alfred North Whitehead’s metaphysics, one could perceive a soon-to-be-born-baby as prehending all the actual occasions that have ever been, while aiming towards novelty and beauty, as it reaches the shore of its birth, and concresces into a new and creative expression of the undetermined Mystery. Archetypal astrologer, Becca Tarnas, describes this as an everlasting concrescence

“The actual occasion which concresced with the child’s first intake of air can also be seen as an everlasting concrescence, one that continues from that moment of independence onward. Each preceding concrescence takes place within the gestalt set by that first concrescence––which is how transits to the birth chart could be experienced by the individual. The birth chart is like the prism of that individual’s life, refracting the archetypal potential into the archetypal particulars of this person. That moment when the birth chart is set concresces onward, even beyond the bodily death of the individual. One can see transits to the birth chart still being operative long after the person carrying that chart has died: for instance, when a renaissance of interest in someone’s work occurs after their death (2017).” 

The spirit of a deceased person’s birth chart may possibly point to something beyond the shores. Perhaps a forest that leads to a mountain top, implying yet another paradoxical element to our multidimensional reality; as one could hypothesize that the perennialists’ metaphor of “one mountain many paths” may indicate the way in which we exist in an afterlife. The summit possibly signifying the moment our birth chart ceases to be in a living person’s memory (the animation movie Coco may provide a holistic picture of this imaginary musing), as the flame of our spirit dies out; nirvana. 

In A Pluralistic Universe, American pragmatist, William James writes:

“For pluralism, all that we are required to admit as the constitution of reality is what we ourselves find empirically realized in every minimum of finite life. Briefly it is this, that nothing real is absolutely simple, that every smallest bit of experience is a multum in parvo plurally related, that each relation is one aspect, character, or function, way of its being taken, or way of its taking something else; and that a bit of reality when actively engaged in one of these relations is not by that very fact engaged in all the other relations simultaneously. The relations are not all what the French call solidaires with one another. Without losing its identity a thing can either take up or drop another thing, like the log I spoke of, which by taking up new carriers and dropping old ones can travel anywhere with a light escort (1909).” 

Thus, from an astrological perspective, each unique expression of subject and object is interconnected by an archetypal thread. Although the manifestations may differ, the underlying pattern is what inherently connects us to everything and everyone. As Rovelli would say, “the world is made up of networks of kisses, not stones (2018),” implying that we live in a world that is inherently alive and conscious. As we begin to feel the emergence of an ecological civilization, helping to bridge the path from postmodern relativism to participatory pluralism becomes vital. As I have suggested, archetypal astrology seems to be a profound way in which that can occur. But more than anything, an archetypal cosmos adds play to our evolutionary unfolding. Like the question and answer dialectic between man and nature in Wheeler’s analogy, we can improvise with the Music of the Spheres in the way a jazz musician would through call and response. Letting the harmonic chord changes (archetypal pattern) guide our melodic improvisations (participation), as we dance to the rhythm of cosmos and psyche. 


References

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