Community for Conscious Aging

What We Most Need is Where We Least Want to Look

Thu, 09 Apr 2026 17:30:52 GMT

Friends,

The gold is in the shit.

A handful of times over the years, I heard the Jungian analyst Ron Schenk say those six words in our classrooms. Ron minces no words and suffers no fools. Aside from whatever joy he got from cursing in formal settings—a joy I sometimes share—Ron was also succinctly framing a paradox at the core of our lives.

Jung told us that we do not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious. Those are abstractions—not easy to pass off as inspirational self-help, but still a bit distant from the truth of the process. We find soul by digging in the shit: in the awful, the decaying, the offensive, the last places we want to touch. Like it or not, this is the work. It doesn't mean wallowing in what's worst about us, but rather in understanding that the stuff of growth comes out of our decaying waste, the vitality we have lost or shed, the illusions that kept us from seeing reality.

In her poem "Compost," Brigid McNeill captures this psychological truth eloquently:

Rot is not surrender.

It is participation.

The slow alchemy of apple cores,

heartbreak,

old selves and half-remembered

dreams each softened by rain,

each broken open by time.

Humus, the richly fertile product of the decay of organic matter, is the end point of the process of composting. It is also etymologically tied to our words humility and humiliation.

Many of my ideals, and my idealized sense of self, are in a season of humiliation. We are in the midst of disturbing, seismic social changes. We have launched a war that makes no sense, with unclear goals, no plan to achieve them, and ferociously expanding damage to the global economic and social order. In the last year, the federal funding that provided the most basic support to our arts, culture, medical research, and social service infrastructures have been ripped out by the roots. The Jung Center doesn't receive federal funding, but the effect of removing not-nearly-sufficient resources for our common good means already limited private philanthropic resources are overwhelmed, deeply wounding the entire nonprofit sector and stripping lifesaving services from our most vulnerable people.

We are deep in the shit. We can't escape it.

The dynamics of transformation require us to stay with the decay. We can't magically skip ahead to the golden future. The path to humility involves humiliation. In his fall lecture at The Jung Center, Fr. Richard Rohr laughed about the daily humiliations he faces—he welcomes them, knows them to be part of the alchemical process of spiritual growth. We are so unused to accepting endings, to acknowledging death, that we miss their inextricability from the work of living, which always, always depends on the fracturing and decomposing of illusory ideals and identities.

Moments like this can be sacred. Making them so – finding the gold that is also always present – involves reflecting consciously on our humiliations, by ourselves and with each other. They are never just our own, and the sacredness and growth aren’t either.

Warmly,

Sean Fitzpatrick

Executive Director

PS. Our spring semester is in full swing, and you will hear more from us very soon about our rich summer programming. Stay tuned.

In the Community

Mon, 16 Feb 2026 16:00:26 GMT

In my professional life, I am the Director of Counseling for Alief ISD, one of the most culturally diverse districts in Texas, with our students speaking over 85 languages. In my personal life, however, I am like many of you—a spouse, a parent and grandparent, a sibling, a daughter, and, always, a champion for mental health. During the height of the pandemic, all of those roles were stressed, strained, and stretched.

In my professional life, I was feeling those same pressures, especially as I led our District Crisis Response Team (DCRT), which is deployed throughout our district when there is a death of a staff member or student. Last school year, when I had the great fortune to become more acquainted with The Jung Center through the generous support of H-E-B, our DCRT was being requested more and more frequently to support issues of death, grief, and loss. I became increasingly concerned that my team of amazingly dedicated counseling professionals may begin to give way to compassion fatigue and burnout. I shared my concerns with The Jung Center team, and Dr. Sean Fitzpatrick and Dr. Alejandro Chaoul created a dynamic two-day training for our team. I vividly remember that before the first day ended, there were already members of my team in tears as they expressed in small groups some of the collective toll of trying to balance work and home, and how it was impacting their emotional wellness.

Over those two days, The Jung Center provided us space and understanding as they walked us through self-care versus community care, how to combat burnout, and mindfulness techniques among other tools, reminding us to navigate life in healthy ways.

And if that was not enough, The Jung Center returned to present a full-day workshop to over 100 of our amazing school and district nurses, who, at the time, had conducted more than 25,000 COVID tests over nearly a two-year period, always with a warm smile—while understanding that every interaction could have put them at personal risk. During their “Day of Care for the Caregivers,” as we coined it, the nursing staff kept coming up to me and saying, “I can’t believe someone did this for us. Someone did this just for us.”

Since then, The Jung Center has sought and received funding from The Junior League to return to Alief. This year, Jasmine Shah and Dr. Fitzpatrick led two workshops for our counseling team as well as a full-day workshop for our district and school nurses.

So, when I think about the impact The Jung Center had in Alief ISD, I think about the thoughtful support and stellar resources that The Jung Center provided for our counseling and nursing staff to ensure that we were emotionally healthy while we cared for ourselves and others. For that, we, along with the over 40,000 students that we serve, say, “Thank you!”

Sherpas and Guides

Mon, 02 Feb 2026 16:00:12 GMT

When I had passed midlife but didn’t quite think of myself yet as old, I came across a quote from Carl Jung:

“No, thoroughly unprepared we take the step into the afternoon of life; worse still, we take this step with the false assumption that our truths and ideals will serve us as hitherto. But we cannot live the afternoon of life according to the programme of life’s morning; for what was great in the morning will be little at evening, and what in the morning was true will at evening become a lie.”*

The words hit me in some truth center of my being. They clarified feelings of unease, displacement, restlessness, uncertainty—quiet and deep—that had been building in me since midlife. They gave me the beginning of a way to age differently from what I had seen modeled in my family and the culture around me. Family— despair and bitterness. Culture—Botox and pills.

And then I stumbled onto the beginning of the Community for Conscious Aging at The Jung Center. It became a home with fellow sojourners in this journey that we all face: growing old and dying. How does one do that in a way that is vital and purposeful, willing and willful—creative, and real, and in community? How does one live from midlife onward when the way ahead is unclear and goals of the past may no longer work as well as once they did?

There is no ritual or meaning out there to help me move into this. Carl Jung writes in his essay “Stages of Life” that there is no university for midlife onward, but I feel like the Community for Conscious Aging gives me what I need. I find knowledge and advice. I find people who are on the same journey as I am, or even ahead of me. I find community.

I’ve attended free programs, as well as book studies and workshops. Every month, I can hear a speaker over Zoom talk about some aspect of aging, from the practical to the esoteric. The talks are called Lunch & Learns, and they are free. I’ve learned about everything from how to age in place, to what records and documents I need done before I die, to the fact that “my kids don’t want my stuff” and the practice of Swedish death cleaning.

This spring, my Lunch & Learn choices are: “Understanding Death in a New Way,” “Ethical Wills,” and “Stories We Inherit.” This spring, I can attend workshops like “Letter to My Children on Inheritance,” “Positive Aging: The Spirituality of Later Life,” or “What Matters Most: How Can We Accept Mortality?” I can meet in circles to talk deeply about anything and everything. I can go to a Jung Center Gallery Artist Talk to learn that creativity is ageless.

And being part of The Jung Center means programs exist in its other divisions— The Mind Body Spirit Institute, Creating Your Life, The McMillan Institute for Jungian Studies—that cross over to enrich and feed my life.

I’m now 77. I am climbing the high mountain whose summit I cannot see but know is there. Two of my sherpas and guides are the Community for Conscious Aging and what it offers, followed by The Jung Center itself with all its riches.

*“The Stages of Life”, The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche (Collected Works of C.G. Jung, Vol. 8)

My Father’s Telescope

Mon, 05 Jan 2026 22:22:03 GMT

When I was twelve years old, my father took me by one hand. In his other hand, he held a telescope. He led me to our backyard, where he had set up a tripod. As he positioned my eye to the scope, he asked, “Can you imagine what life on other planets might be like?” He was teaching me to wonder as much as he was teaching me astronomy. Telescopes allow us to see the unseen in stars and planets. Imagination is also a telescope for the unseen.

My father pointed out the shape of the Little Dipper with its handle ending in the North Star. Once you know north, you can navigate the globe. Thinking back to that moment, he was showing me how to zoom out to infinity, how to zoom out to the possibilities imagination brings, and how to zoom in to the clue that is always available—how to find north. You can be lost in the wonder of infinity and still find your place on Earth.

I followed his prompts to zoom out, to practice seeing things from above. When I was in high school, Sputnik went up. This Russian satellite was the first to enter space. It kicked off a space age, a scientific race, and a new worldview—seeing Earth from above. At that moment, I knew immediately what I wanted to be. It was not an astronaut. I wanted to be a “space lawyer”. I wanted to invent the terms that would bring agreement to the biosphere, as admiralty law did for the oceans. I imagined space law as the next iteration of the United Nations.

I did not become a space lawyer, but I still practiced zooming out. I joined NBC Network News in Washington, D.C., and made documentaries in Liberia, Abu Dhabi, Israel, Northern Ireland, Cuba, and other countries in tension and transition. Filming foreign cultures was another way to see the unseen, to experience the wild variety of ways to live in this world.

Just as the Big and Little Dipper use shape to key us to the stars, I started to think of shape as a way to understand human history. I remembered that when I filmed in tribal cultures, their shelters, social systems, and sacred sites were all circular, from round thatched huts to Stonehenge. When I filmed in cities, it seemed a ladder dominated their worldview, from pyramids to skyscrapers. Today, the network model masters our global lives, from technology to the map of our brain. These thoughts led to my book, The Telling Image: Shapes of Changing Times .

Throughout my life in Houston, I came to The Jung Center as the place to understand the shapes and patterns in human history and in my own life story. I took courses in mythology and fairy tales, studied my night dreams and daydreams, researched symbols and wrote poetry, and took courses in the history of human ideas.

The Jung Center is a place of learning, though not a school. It is a center that addresses spirit and mystery, though not a house of worship. It is a place of creative arts, though not a museum. The Jung Center offers us ways to see the unseen, to zoom out to the universe, and to zoom into ourselves.

Listening is Our Forgotten, Necessary Work

Mon, 05 Jan 2026 20:27:50 GMT

Friends,

Circles represent symbolic wholeness. At moments of great crisis and disequilibrium, Jung understood that circles may appear in our dreams, as ways of reflecting the greater order that underlies our experiences of chaos.

In early November, a group of wary Houstonians gathered for a tough conversation around a set of round tables in a large hall at Interfaith Ministries of Greater Houston. They came from across the political spectrum to discuss complex issues with people who disagreed with them. Depending on the table, participants discussed either freedom of speech or immigration, in a set of structured dialogues led -- but not controlled -- by moderators at each table. The founders of this dialogue were unlikely allies: Republican City Councilmember Julian Ramirez and his chief of staff, Democrat Leah Wolfthal, who met while they were both running for the same council seat. Councilmember Sallie Alcorn has joined them as a host. A third is planned for January 14. I’ll be there. The movement is growing.

The round tables of the Bringing Houston Together initiative do not promise cheap or easy wholeness. They tell us that the work of coming together across deep rifts is risky and uncomfortable. And the bulk of the work is internal, as we open ourselves to honestly host the reality of those whose differences from us seem -- or may even be -- threatening to our most fundamentally-held values. Listening closely, not persuading or being persuaded, is the work our community has forgotten. It may be the hardest, most necessary work we have right now.

Personal wholeness does not come cheap or easy, either. It's a life's work – or, rather, the way of a life lived with integrity. It involves walking toward what we fear, toward what disgusts us, toward those things we are sure that we are not -- except for that aching suspicion that, deep down, we are those things. It involves rejecting fantasies of purity to accept what is real. How do we accept what seems unacceptable about us? How do we live with it -- and not just live with it, but find what we've been missing, perhaps what we most need?

You may have noticed that circles have become a bigger part of our public offerings. These are not classes, but opportunities to sit across from each other and practice listening deeply to the mystery revealed through each of us. When our staff collects for in-person meetings, we gather in a circle.

Our circle is growing. This fall, we hosted 20% more students in our public programs than we did last fall. That growth has come from the skill of our instructors, from the tightening of the weave among our committed, deeply caring staff. And from you, and your willingness to be transformed by holding our great, difficult questions together in community. Thank you for being a part of this circle.

Please consider helping us expand the circle in 2026 with a meaningful gift to our annual fund. You can do that right now, by clicking here. And if you have already given, we are grateful.

Warmly,

Sean Fitzpatrick

Executive Director

A Season of Change

Tue, 21 Oct 2025 20:43:10 GMT

It is so hard to find stillness in our world

It is so hard to find stillness in our world. It's a vanishing, precious resource. Finding it -- especially in community -- can change our lives.

The Jung Center board granted me a sabbatical this summer, and I spent most of it on the road, alone, tent camping across much of the north and west, in tremendous natural beauty. I wanted to make room to be still, to listen. On a cool morning in late July, standing (mostly) alone in a mountain meadow about an hour west of Manitou Springs, Colorado, a clear, unmistakable voice in the stillness told me what I needed to hear.

It is time for me to leave my role as the executive director of The Jung Center. It's a transition, not a departure, which will happen at the end of our fiscal year, on June 30, 2026. My call now is to deepen my work as a wounded healer, a teacher, and a writer, work I will continue to do in The Jung Center community. The board has asked me to serve as a McMillan Institute Scholar, which will include teaching here and advising the staff and board regarding our work across the community.

Twenty-eight years ago, in 1997, I started work here at the reception desk, answering the phone a couple of times an hour and otherwise studying for grad school. When I conclude my time as executive director, I will have served in the role for eleven years, as long as my great mentor and friend, Jim Hollis. My whole adult life has been enriched by this precious community.

In that mountain meadow in late July, I was alone -- but not quite. After five weeks of sabbatical, I had stepped back into my Jung Center role for a week to facilitate a class of Houston leaders doing their own deep inner work in the Colorado high country. They were spread out across a half-mile around me, each sitting in solitude, in the stillness, listening for what each needed to hear.

What had been whispers around the edges of my awareness when I was camping by myself emerged in that moment because of the community around me. I could hear the voice of the Self, clearly, because of the care and integrity with which those leaders were listening to the stillness.

This is why The Jung Center matters. We do not do the work of becoming conscious alone. We recognize what matters most when we are in community. We heal our woundedness in relationships. This is why our divided world needs you to show up, to do the hard work of coming to know your inner divisions and to bridge them. None of us can do it alone.

Our board chair, John Price, along with the executive committee and the board, are beginning the work of guiding The Jung Center through this transition into its next phase. You will hear more in the months to come. Stay tuned.

Sean Fitzpatrick

Executive Director

Real Life in Divine Places

sgarcia@junghouston.org (Sarah Garcia) — Fri, 22 Aug 2025 15:00:09 GMT

Dreaming is a necessary ingredient for any beautiful creation or meaningful life

We’ve long been enchanted by the promise of transcendence — a natural and deeply human desire. The spirit of overcoming is foundational to Joseph Campbell’s Hero’s Journey, religious doctrines with the largest followings, and more concretely, the American Dream. Possibilities of enlightenment, ascension, or liberation compel us to imagine beyond our circumstances. Such dreaming is a necessary ingredient for any beautiful creation or meaningful life — often associated with divinity or, at least, the mechanism of evolution.

Sometimes, in James Hollis’ language, when making our way through “the complex thickets of choice,” we discover that we are reacting with a transcendent impulse, rather than harvesting self-insight and collective wisdom in service to the ascension of soul or Self. The unconscious pursuit of transcendence yields variations of human shadow — spiritual bypassing, outright denial of human vulnerability, careless self-advancement, megalomania, grandiose entitlement, fateful self-denial, or intergenerational sabotage through destruction of resources — all with their unique contribution to personal and collective symptoms. These failing attempts at control and perfectionism are actually expressions of resistance which mask and stifle the potential for life-affirming transformation.

It’s absurd and hilarious that we do this! It reminds me of Jesus in Gethsemane — being so fearful and avoidant about his impending transformation. Okay — fair enough — he’s literally about to be crucified. Ultimately, his resistance to suffering reveals his mortal vulnerability- it’s endearing and inspiring- as he stays the course. And it is a reminder that the practice of change isn’t about the absence of fear or resistance, but about maintaining integrity through it. As seekers, we’re ignited with spiritual yearning but continually bound by earthly design and human imperfection. Reaching above the treetops, or finding sustained enlightenment, is reserved for few. For others, meaning, beauty, and truth are found only in a deeper place — through profound interconnection. Spaces between heaven and soil are windy, rocky, fiery, or watery — perilous pathways supported by helping hands, tools, and instinct. Circumstances which contain this archetypally transformative landscape include the midlife threshold, identity or existential crisis, grief and loss, and of course, bodily death — all messy and numinous endeavors.

Immersed in the liminal, we aim to honor the promise of transcendence, while integrating our human nature. This Fall, our programming bridges the two in a variety of ways:

In September, “Death in Collectivist Cultures” illuminates relational dying – in contrast to our highly medicalized and monetized Western tendencies, alongside a practical discussion for understanding our identities and coping capacities within the “sandwich generation.”
In October, we go deeper with “Making Peace with Aging,” an exploration of how we hold the tension of somatics and spirituality in an older body, and a book study on Finding Meaning in the Second Half of Life — a guidepost for those traversing a powerful — and notoriously unmapped phase.
In the flux, November provides an opportunity for grounding through “Mindful Practice with Nature,” followed by insights to support conscious, ascending, and rooted growth-yielding realizations which tend to imply deliverance in lieu of stagnancy. “Menopause as Psychic Rebirth” elucidates the art of alchemical processes and offers a personal entry point to the journey of aging. Our voyages are never entirely solitary — Sharon Blackie joins us for “Hags and Wise Women: Older Women In European Myth and Fairy Tales,” where we’ll dive into the collective wisdom gleaned only through community, intimacy with Earth, and feminine archetypes.
Our season closes in December with a Lunch & Learn interlude through the phantasmal and utterly human experience of shadowy grief — alongside an invitation to light with “Turning Pages,” our annual celebration at The Jung Center bookstore. Along the way, there are opportunities for community connection following the programs which you find most resonating.

As Clarissa Pinkola Estés notes, “Even raw and messy emotions can be understood as a form of light, crackling and bursting with energy. All emotion, even rage, carries knowledge, insight, what some call enlightenment. Our rage can, for a time, become teacher.” The Community for Conscious Aging welcomes you to our space for human vulnerability, raw realization, messy but illuminating growth, and loving connection. Here, we welcome the surrender of pretense — or whatever obstructs your authentic expression — in favor of something more true, something both real and divine.

Sarah Garcia

Manager, Community for Conscious Aging

photo by Sarah Garcia

Descending to Become

Fri, 15 Aug 2025 15:00:29 GMT

The Gift of the Liminal

“ Liminal space is where transformation takes root—but not always with our permission. ”

Autumn is the season that teaches us how to let go. Trees shed what no longer serves them—not in despair, but in trust that something unseen is at work. In the same way, our inner lives ask us to surrender just when we long for clarity. We find ourselves between who we were and who we are becoming. This is the sacred work of the in-between.

The liminal is derived from the Latin word ‘limen’: the threshold space where the ego loosens and a new consciousness begins to stir. It is often disorienting, tender, and initiatory. But when we shift our perspective, it unfolds as a sacred space of dynamism, rather than destruction. Something numinous will emerge. We’re not who we were, but we’re not yet who we’re called to be. And there is no map—only trust. It is the space where what was has not yet ended and what is has not yet arrived.

This threshold, reminds me of a scene from the film Monkey Man—a haunting and sacred visual metaphor for rebirth. After a brutal collapse, the main character, played by Dev Patel, falls into the water—symbolically dying. He’s pulled from the depths by the Hijra community, an often-marginalized group embodying the archetype of the third—neither this nor that, but something more whole. In their hands, he is not merely saved. He is initiated.

During his healing, he experiences a hallucinatory awakening—visions that strip him of vengeance, fear, and false identity. This descent into the watery unconscious cracks him open and prepares him to return with clarity of purpose, not just power. He emerges not as the same man—but as the one he was always meant to become.

That’s what the liminal does. It breaks us open, not to punish us, but to prepare us. When we stand in the nebulous space between what was and what will be, we are often being transformed. And yet, it is essential that in this transformation process, we resist the urge to bypass the pain. In spiritual space, we must be cautious not to use language of light and love to dismiss real suffering. Toxic positivity turns away from truth, while authentic presence leans in, with courage, grief, and tending.

Crisis can be clarifying. When the world outside no longer reflects safety or certainty, we turn inward for a new lens—one shaped by intuition, ancestral wisdom, and the collective unconscious. In this sense, crisis becomes initiation.

At the Mind Body Spirit Institute, we believe in this kind of integrated healing. Where seeing becomes not just about sight, but insight and transcendence–a call to surrender to the depths of the water and guide our journey for expansion.

By embracing the spaciousness of the liminal, we return to ancient ways of knowing–through shared experiences of transcendental art and music, nourishing food, restorative rituals, and embodied practices to serve as an anchor in exploring consciousness.

Yoga, for example, does not ask us to escape the body or bypass the brokenness. It teaches us to stay with the discomfort and to breathe through the suffering, to build capacities for grief, and to hold both personal and collective healing in the same vessel. It is not a path of escape, but of engaged presence.

This season, I invite you to see your uncertainty not as something to fix, but as something to listen to. The liminal may not come with answers, but it always offers deeper questions—the kind that change you from the inside out.

Like the Kid in Monkey Man, like trees in autumn, may we allow ourselves to descend—not to disappear, but to become. And in the descent, may we remember we were born to step through the threshold.

Jasmine Shah

Director, Mind Body Spirit Institute

Leaning In

Fri, 08 Aug 2025 15:00:19 GMT

If life’s challenges hold opportunities for our growth and transformation, how can we suspend ourselves courageously in a moment and lean into the unknown?

My favorite dreams are ones where I have superpowers. They are especially fun when I realize I am dreaming. I begin to play with the powers and lean into facing things that are unpredictable and outside my control. I’ve had dreams where I can fly, breathe underwater, and connect with others like entangled light. This is the mood and the imagery that show up in my poetry and in my paintings.

In the most vibrant and imaginative dreams there is often a point where I realize that even with the superpowers, I am unable to fix or solve the challenge at hand. If I am lucky, there will be a moment where I have the realization that rather than do anything at all, I have the opportunity to be with what is. When I release the stress and panic I lean in, physically, and take flight. I begin to soar out of a complete lack of effort and with total acceptance and curiosity. I begin to lift and soar. I see the bigger picture and am full of awe and a freedom that goes beyond words.

When I wake up

I try to hold this sensation

To linger in the liberation

To recognize the invitation

To consciousness

I marvel at the peaks in my life’s timeline

Sparks of spirit

Suspended in awe

Facilitated by my willingness to

Surrender and lean in

The more harsh the human experience seems to be, the more I long for the power to lean in and resist the urge to deny the reality, control the unpredictability, or escape the suffering. When I reflect on the most powerful moments of my life, the deep connections made when leaning in, I am given more courage to connect with my curiosity and open myself to transformation.

Witnessing my grandfather spontaneously speaking in his father’s native tongue.
Surrendering to silence with my grandmother when she could no longer hear me. Holding our attention, on a silent phone call while our souls were suspended in loving entanglement.
Attuning to poetic words of oneness with light rolling out of the mouth of a student, using his own words to accept his arrival into adulthood one week and his impending death the next.
Sitting in Healing Circles, connecting deeply as hearts and souls relying on invisible signals that encircle the globe.
Exploring words and images with yesterday’s strangers, harvesting insights from our shared underworlds through the simple selection of words on a page of text.

If life’s challenges hold opportunities for our growth and transformation, how can we suspend ourselves courageously in a moment or a memory that seems heavy with suffering and lean into the unknown? When we are exposed to painful parts of our country’s history, when we learn of current-day challenges that are happening under the radar or outside mainstream media, when we become aware of and face forces outside our control—an illness, a loss, a change in abilities or resources—the temptation can be to retreat to the perception of safety or a pattern that was developed for our protection. Can we recognize the opportunity? Are we familiar with our patterns? Do we have the tools to meet the moment with courage, curiosity, and compassion?

Events at The Jung Center expose us to concepts and ideas, to prompts and reflections, and to shared experiences that invite us to lean into curiosity and courage to experience something beneath and beyond—to connect and recognize that there is more for each of us to discover as individuals and the collective.

We can learn how to:

recognize our patterns and tendencies to deny realities and repress our emotions,
reflect on events of our lives that hold meaning,
clean the lenses of perception that separate us from what is so that we can navigate the stages of our lives and accept the twists and turns of our journeys as invitations for deepening clarity, creative expression, and meaningful connection.

As the Director of Curriculum, my focus is on curating educational opportunities for individuals and the collective by supporting our public programs in a variety of ways. Recognizing that one person’s experience and perspective is not wide enough to filter what a growing community seeks, we use a collaborative approach to attract and evaluate programs and events.

When we ask you “What Matters Most?” we really want to know, because your answers lead us to better questions. Your feedback in our evaluations, surveys, and comments on our social media posts become the data driving our decisions and fueling our efforts to expand the curriculum and deepen your educational experiences with even greater awareness, curiosity, understanding, and sense of belonging.

By Brooke Summers-Perry

Director of Curriculum

Achilles' Heel

sfitz@junghouston.org (Sean Fitzpatrick) — Mon, 28 Jul 2025 20:49:30 GMT

The value of being forced to slow down

If you have read J.R.R. Tolkien's Lord of the Rings or seen the movies, you know what I mean when I say I have a Gollum-like attachment to my brown leather recliner. As my wife and son would likely tell you -- eyes rolling -- if anything is my preciousss , it's the chair I'm sitting in right now. I'm writing this on the second day of my sabbatical, a Sunday in late June; you may be reading this toward the end of my time away. The Jung Center board gave me six weeks to rest and reflect. It's a tremendous gift. It's also already more challenging than I expected.

Sabbatical relates, as you might guess, to the Jewish practice of keeping the Sabbath. While the Sabbath is a day set aside for rest and reflection each week, the sabbatical comes from the wise agricultural practice of not cultivating a field for a year every seven years. Most high school students know that the American Dust Bowl era almost a century ago resulted in great part from failing to maintain this timeless practice of letting fields lay fallow for a season. We have to rest and reflect to restore our generative capacity. It's non-negotiable.

I'm in my chair right now because a bone spur at the back of my heel is rubbing against my Achilles' tendon. Yes, I get it: my Achilles' heel. The pain, at its worst, keeps me from sleeping or thinking clearly. The only way to ease it is to be still and elevate it. I'm not at the gym; I'm not cooking or doing chores or running errands. I'm just sitting here. It's driving me a little crazy. And I think it's necessary.

One of my friends, a retired nonprofit executive, wrote to me excitedly when she heard about the sabbatical to tell me about her out-of-office email message: "I am on sabbatical until xxxx. YOUR EMAIL WILL NEVER BE READ." I told our staff leadership team about it at our last meeting before my departure, laughing. What a crazy idea.

They took it very seriously. Elissa and Brooke and Danna and Andria and Jasmine made it clear that it was essential. I remain profoundly touched. Also knocked a bit off-kilter by their determination that real rest requires that kind of clear boundary. And humbled by the care and respect it expressed. They will be leading while I am away.

Thoughtful friends have asked me about what I want to get from the experience. Sabbaticals are not exactly vacations; they are time away from regular roles so that more focused reflection and research can happen. But it's awfully tempting to put a new, ambitious set of achievables together -- hey, I could work on a new book! -- that keeps me from listening for what has been called "the still, small voice" by Jewish scripture, and what might be called the voice of the Self in Jungian psychology. The pace we keep is too fast and loud for it. It requires rest and space to be heard.

Which is why I need my Achilles' heel. It's forcing me to slow down, to not rip out the back porch or purge the office clutter or go out for five mile walks. At least not right out of the gate. The regular (which isn't to say healthy) tempo has to become much slower. And yes, I get the mixed message here, because obviously every word I'm typing is still Jung Center productivity. On a Sunday. But I'm listening.

Warmly,

Sean Fitzpatrick

Executive Director

In Times of Disaster, Our Most Powerful Medicine is Connection

Fri, 11 Jul 2025 21:48:27 GMT

Dear Friends,

I often find myself contemplating the absence of ritual and rites of passage in our culture—those

thresholds that mark our movement through life with meaning. One of the most enduring rites we still

collectively honor is summer camp. I spent seven summers at Camp Longhorn, and my wife spent eleven

at Camp Mystic. Just one week before the flood devastated our beloved Hill Country, we picked up our

daughter from her first summer at Camp Mystic.

Camp is more than a childhood tradition—it’s a sacred rhythm. It teaches children how to separate,

struggle, return, and reconnect. And as we all now know, that rhythm was violently interrupted this

summer.

We now sit in grief—painfully and prayerfully—with all the families affected. As a psychotherapist, I

meet with many people each week, and I don’t know anyone—personally or professionally—who hasn’t

been touched by this disaster. The full scope of devastation has yet to reveal itself.

There are communities still beginning to understand what has been lost. Whether you’ve been directly

affected or are holding space for someone who has, this is a moment that calls us to come

together—healing through connection.

Texas is in pain—and we must remember that we do not heal alone. In times of disaster, our most

powerful medicine is connection. Whether you’ve lost everything or are bearing witness, this is a

moment to lean into relationship.

At The Jung Center, we have long understood that the way we navigate suffering depends on the depth

and quality of the relationships we carry—including the relationship with ourselves.

Grief moves through us all—sometimes loudly, sometimes in silence—and these moments of rupture

are also invitations to come together. To listen. To offer. To receive. Whether you’re the one being held

or the one doing the holding, remember: we heal together.

With deep care and connection,

John Price

President, The Jung Center of Houston

If you are looking for connection and community, consider joining us for our weekly Power of Community

online meditations on Tuesdays and Thursdays

( https://junghouston.app.neoncrm.com/np/clients/junghouston/event.jsp?event=12358 ) or our online

Meditacion en Español on August 6

( https://junghouston.app.neoncrm.com/np/clients/junghouston/event.jsp?event=12363 ). Or consult our

events calendar ( https://www.junghouston.org/events ) for a continually updated roster of classes and

events.

Additionally, The Jung Center's Mind Body Spirit Institute offers essays, podcasts and interviews, and a

variety of guided meditations - all free - on Substack https://themindbodyspiritinstitute.substack.com/ .

If you would like to give to the affected communities and families, you can do so through the Community

Foundation of the Texas Hill

Country https://cftexashillcountry.fcsuite.com/erp/donate/create/fund?funit_id=4201 , or you can give

to the Institute for Spirituality and Health’s Greater Houston Healing Collaborative

https://www.paypal.com/donate?campaign_id=Q8KZJT2Y8WREJ .

Loneliness and the Longing for Real Connection: A Spiritual Renaissance

Sat, 07 Jun 2025 15:00:07 GMT

In an age of constant digital contact, why are we still aching with loneliness? Loneliness, anxiety, and depression feed each other in a feedback loop, revealing how emotional and spiritual disconnection can mirror and magnify psychological suffering.

More than 1 in 5 adults report serious, chronic feelings of loneliness (Harvard, 2024). And while our minds reach for obvious explanations — social media, remote work, the breakdown of community — the root often runs deeper.

Dr. Lisa Miller, clinical psychologist and author of The Spiritual Child , names what many of us intuitively feel: loneliness is not just a social issue — it’s a spiritual crisis. She reminds us:

“When we feel lonely, we may have narrowed our perception of reality, forgetting we are innately connected — to one another and to a larger, spiritual consciousness” (Miller, 2023).

In Jungian terms, this is a loss of archetypal grounding. Carl Jung wrote that our spiritual needs are as vital as food or safety (Jung, 1928). When these needs go unmet, we begin to feel unmoored — not just emotionally, but existentially.

Loneliness is the soul’s alarm bell and a call to return to what is sacred and alive within us.

From Dopamine to Oxytocin

We are living in a dopamine-driven world, where likes, messages, and quick hits of digital feedback mimic connection but rarely nourish it. But true belonging happens through oxytocin — the hormone of trust, touch, and presence. One gives us the rush of being noticed. The other gives us the roots of being known.

We are not starving for more information. We are starving for intimacy, for a spiritual resonance for the kind of connection that doesn’t flicker out when the screen goes dark.

Our Disconnection from Nature, Spirit, and Soulful Community

As we drift further from nature, spiritual rituals, indigenous wisdom, and collective healing, we lose the very threads that once held us together.

We’ve traded sacred communities for curated content.

And yet, something ancient is stirring. As Dr. Miller observes, we may be standing at the threshold of a spiritual renaissance, a reawakening of our longing to live in communion with the sacred (Miller, 2023).

Many of us feel the pull to return to sacred circles, to breath and experience stillness, to forests and rivers, to each other. A kind of collective tapestry to bond and heal.

Real Connection: A Grounded Return

So then, what is real connection?

It is presence.
It’s being witnessed in our wholeness — not just our highlight reel. It’s communal care.
It’s a shared breath. Shared silence. Shared story.
It is the remembrance that we belong — to one another, and to something greater than ourselves.

Jung would call this the reunion with the Self — a return not just to intimacy with others, but to soul-level grounding in who we truly are.

At The Jung Center’s Mind Body Spirit Institute, we believe healing happens in relationship — with ourselves, community with each other, and the sacred. This is where we bring the numinous to life.

As James Hillman reminds us in The Thought of the Heart and Anima Mundi, our deepest psychological and spiritual healing depends on the return of the soul to the world. To end loneliness, we don’t need more noise–we need more noticing. We need to hold relational space, as the forest does, linked by a vast mycelium network, present into reverent communion.

References

Harvard Graduate School of Education. (2024). What’s Causing Our Epidemic of Loneliness — And How Can We Fix It? Usable Knowledge. Retrieved from https://www.gse.harvard.edu/ideas/usable-knowledge/24/10/what-causing-our-epidemic-loneliness-and-how-can-we-fix-it
Miller, Lisa. (2023). The Great Spiritual Decline . Big Think. Retrieved from https://bigthink.com/the-well/the-great-spiritual-decline/
Jung, C.G. (1928). The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche , Collected Works Vol. 8, para. 403. Princeton University Press.
U.S. Department of Health and Human Services. (2023). Our epidemic of loneliness and isolation: The U.S. Surgeon General’s advisory on the healing effects of social connection and community . Office of the U.S. Surgeon General. https://www.hhs.gov/sites/default/files/surgeon-general-social-connection-advisory.pdf

Cartography & Connection: The Art of Aging Consciously

sgarcia@junghouston.org (Sarah Garcia) — Sat, 31 May 2025 15:00:02 GMT

We live in the age of information- inundated daily with data, news, and seemingly competing perspectives. The clamor creates a cacophony which can be felt internally as well as clearly observed in the collective. This flow of information can be experienced as a tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm or flood the channels for action. To make matters more challenging, as cultural theorist Byung Chul Han notes- information is “Janus-faced– it simultaneously produces certainty and uncertainty.” How can we respond to such an onslaught of illuminating but destabilizing input?

As Carl Jung has always emphasized, a reliable first step involves cultivating self-awareness. Through ongoing, deep introspection and discourse with the wisdom of those around us, we identify our distinct nature. As James Hollis advised us, we need to “access our inner compass, the promptings of the psyche that help us find our way through the complex thickets of choice.” The art of composing contour, discerning boundaries, and carving out the path ahead is at once personal and relational. It aligns us in the midst of disorienting circumstances. Immersed in this active process, we uncover our own creative fingerprints, the unique offering which we contribute to the evolving design. Supported by our community- through clumsy but genuine reciprocity and mutual care, we are delivered into uncharted and renewing territory.

One established practice of collaborative self reflection is the ‘life review’. Hospice professionals and death-tenders have long documented the transformation and healing which comes from imagining our personal narratives and mythos in a structured way. Therapeutic professionals, and the clients they serve, have realized this process is also constructive before end-of-life– for caregivers, those at midlife transitions, or anyone aiming to approach their own story intentionally. A recent piece from The New York Times, A ‘Life Review’ Can Be Powerful, At Any Age , explores this expansion and informed the creation of our Summer Lunch & Learn offering, “Reimagining Your Story Through the Eyes of Wisdom”. This introductory hour is followed by an opportunity for deeper, collaborative practice through a workshop series. The collective dreaming and practice here invites us into the empowering experience of being an authority in imagining our own life stories.

Other Summer programming with The Community for Conscious Aging includes delving into Drew Leder’s ‘Chessboard of Healing’, which highlights the strengths and shadows of various coping strategies that keep us afloat as we navigate troubled waters. A Lunch and Learn explores identity and resilience for those making the midlife transition– especially those in the “sandwich generation” who practice the precarious balancing act of caregiving for elders while also parenting and, somehow, trying to self-actualize. A book study engages the question- how do we imagine ourselves beyond the roles we’ve been prescribed, or adopted out of necessity, so that we can more deeply experience soulfulness? And a virtual workshop approaches the timely issue of growing older alongside the digital age.

When we find ourselves facing daunting thresholds or deluges of information which threaten to blot out guiding light, I’m reminded of the voice of Joseph Campbell, “The dark night of the soul comes just before revelation. When everything is lost, and all seems darkness, then comes the new life and all that is needed.” The Community for Conscious Aging welcomes your voice to our space for envisioning, and experiencing, relational clarity and wholeness.

Why Learn in Community?

Sat, 24 May 2025 15:00:03 GMT

Without a learning community, I tend to get stuck and stay there. I have a couple of red flags I watch for. I may binge watch shows on streaming services or mindlessly buy art supplies or office supplies that I don’t need.

Once I notice the drain of time and money, I know it is time to get myself in gear. I typically start with reading and listening. My Audible list and bookshelves are full of resources---more books than I can consume. But this can become a stuck place, too, avoiding the work of change by leaning on others’ knowledge. Changing my perception, shifting my habitual behaviors, and improving my relationships involves discernment and action. What influences do I want to be changed by and what are the actions I need to take?

In 2007, following intense periods of reading and attending lectures and workshops, I started participating in practice groups. These groups, much like a lab that accompanies a college lecture course, were designed to help learners process the teachings and apply them in their everyday interactions. They became an invaluable tool to catalyze growth and transformation. When a lecture or workshop didn’t have a practice group as a follow up, I would gravitate toward other learners and start one.

Since 2017, I’ve consistently practiced in one group that regularly gathers across various topics and interests with the common thread of self-reflection, expression, and harvesting insights that change our lives. I tend to stay motivated and inspired as long as we meet regularly. We share resources and invite each other to lectures and workshops. We’ve even taken our learning community on weekend retreats in the nearby Piney Woods to engage in a time for practice, reflection, and connection.

Our learning lab agreements have become the heart of our community, building trust, compassion, and grace. We relate with care — not transactionally or co-dependently. Between meetings we use a group text string to share growth milestones, celebrate when we set healthy boundaries, and request and offer support. When someone needs help — like a ride or a hand with a move — we say, “all invitation, no expectation,” honoring each other’s capacity without needing explanation. Through consistent practice, we’ve created the change and connection we were seeking from the start.

This summer it is my great pleasure to host two learning labs for The Jung Center community, one online and one in-person. We will share what we are learning from The Jung Center programs, programs in other spaces, and through our life experiences. Using specific agreements and a structure for equal and respectful contribution, we will highlight what inspires us, name our blocks and barriers, and honor each person’s journey and inner guidance as we harvest and apply insights that help improve our lives and contribute to the broader community.

Losing the Illusion of Safety

sfitz@junghouston.org (Sean Fitzpatrick) — Mon, 05 May 2025 20:17:04 GMT

Much of our safety is an illusion

About ten years ago, my family took a short trip into the Hill Country, west of San Antonio. It was brutally hot, and we decided to go tubing on the Frio River. The three of us stood at the launch point, uncertain. Frio means cold in Spanish, and it was; the narrow river moved fast. Our son Daniel, perhaps six at the time, clambered into his tube and pushed off. He was around a corner and out of view in a heartbeat that I felt in my throat.

We were in after him quickly, around the same corner and back in sight. The river widened for a time, and we floated together. We needed the cold and the fun, though that stretch of the Frio was not the lazy Guadalupe I'd floated in the past. When the river narrowed again, we all sped up. Around a corner, Danny's tube pulled toward the shore and caught in a little whirlpool, where he spun in slow, bumpy circles. The current shot me past him. I got to the side as quickly as possible and held onto a root to steady myself. And I watched him there, perhaps ten yards away, as fear and helplessness grew. If he fell out of the tube, I could not get to him -- the water was too fast.

My wife Melanie pulled up next to me. We coached him to push off whatever solid thing his erratic path brought his way. Finally, his foot found a tree root and he was able to get back into the current. We'd gotten lucky.

Now sixteen and driving, Danny mentioned recently that the two of us hadn't gone on a road trip for a while. It's the kind of offhand remark the parents of teenagers listen closely for. We scheduled a rare weekend away, and that beautiful stretch of the Hill Country around the Frio came to mind. And then that memory of Danny spinning, out of reach.

It doesn't take a therapist to figure out why that particular memory surfaced. Danny is behind the wheel now, and soon I won’t be riding shotgun. He's heading into the world, and I can't keep him safe -- or can't pretend I can, the way I have all these years.

Much of our safety is an illusion, though that illusion keeps us functioning, keeps us from seeing and reacting to the threats that are, actually, everywhere. They are much easier to see riding with a new driver. I have to ask myself: what illusions of safety have I accumulated – hoarded, even – that keep me from living essential parts of my life?

In America, we’re going through a time in our communal life when illusions of safety and stability are rapidly crumbling. Some few of us here have been the rarest of the rare in human history, wild outliers so insulated from scarcity and conflict that we have lost all sense of our shared reality, our shared risk, our shared responsibility. Of our shared humanity.

The Jung Center matters now because we offer a limited but essential safety, a space where we can regain our humanity as we lose those illusions. Free of the fantasy that, for some of us, some things are guaranteed – “safe” – how much more becomes possible for us, and for our communities? We need much more possibility now, more of the real life we have been trading for our illusions.

Reclaiming Wholeness: The Integration of Masculine and Feminine

Sat, 01 Mar 2025 19:43:19 GMT

Growth doesn't come from avoiding discomfort but from holding the tension of opposites

Transformation is rarely neat. Often, it feels like a rupture—something breaking apart in order to break open. But within the mess lies an invitation to wholeness, a reminder that growth doesn’t come from avoiding discomfort but from holding the tension of opposites: light and shadow, doing and being, the masculine and the feminine.

For years, I lived fully immersed in the hyper masculine. As the eldest daughter in a South Asian family, I stepped into a provider’s role after my father’s passing—armoring myself with strength and resolve to navigate a world that often felt unrelenting. This armor served me well in corporate America, where productivity and results were prized above all else. I learned to thrive in this dynamic, yet over time, the cracks in my shell began to show.

My body, which I had long ignored in favor of deadlines and deliverables, finally demanded to be heard. Fatigue set in, then inflammation, and eventually a rare autoimmune diagnosis forced me to confront the reality I had been avoiding: I was living out of balance, disharmony, resulting in dis-ease. I had over-identified with the masculine archetype of pushing, striving, and controlling while neglecting the nurturing, intuitive, and restorative qualities of the feminine within. It was in the midst of my suffering—physical, emotional, and spiritual—that I was forced to reimagine what wholeness could look like.

The Dance of Opposites

Wholeness, as Jung teaches, comes from holding the tension of opposites. It requires us to honor both the masculine and feminine energies within us—not as rigid roles or binary concepts, but as dynamic forces that ebb and flow depending on what is needed. The masculine gives us structure and direction, the ability to act decisively and create order. The feminine invites us to slow down, listen, and move with the rhythms of intuition and connection.

When these energies are out of balance—whether in individuals or organizations—disharmony follows. Yet balance does not mean equal measures of both at all times; it means integration. It means cultivating a dialogue between these energies, allowing them to inform and complement one another.

For me, the journey toward integration began with letting go of control. This was not an easy task. Control had been my anchor, my compass, my safety net. But heart-centered leadership—and indeed, heart-centered living—requires a willingness to embrace vulnerability. It requires the courage to feel deeply, to look at old ways and transform them into new more powerful ones, and to trust the unfolding process.

Personal and Collective Wholeness

This work is deeply personal, but it is also collective. Just as individuals must integrate the masculine and feminine within themselves, organizations too are called to balance these dynamics. In workplaces dominated by hustle culture and hyperproductivity, the emphasis often tilts toward the masculine—results, efficiency, and bottom lines. But what if we made space for the feminine? What if we prioritized rest, creativity, and the relational aspects of leadership?

Organizations, like individuals, thrive when they honor the whole. This might look like creating environments where employees feel seen and valued not just for what they produce, but for who they are. For me this meant designing practices that invited collaboration, improving EQ, and care—qualities that stem from a heart-centered approach.

Midwifing a New Era

In many ways, we are collectively standing at a threshold, a liminal space where the old ways are falling apart and something new is waiting to be born. This is messy work. It asks us to examine our assumptions, confront our shadows, and stay steady in the discomfort of uncertainty. But it is also sacred work.

As we navigate this messy, beautiful journey of being and becoming, I invite you to pause. To listen—not just to the world around you, but to the quiet wisdom within. What are you being called to integrate? Where are you holding on too tightly, and where might you soften?

The Sri Yantra, a complex geometric symbol that appeared in my meditation, embodies this sacred integration for me. Its interlocking triangles represent the tension of opposites—masculine and feminine, action and stillness, earth and sky. For me, it is a reminder that wholeness is not about erasing differences, but about weaving them together into something greater. Instead of polarizing opposites, how may we begin to harmonize and heal?

Together, we can midwife a new way of being—one that honors the fullness of our humanity and invites us to lead, live, and love from a place of wholeness.

With grace and courage,
Jasmine

Emerging and Engaging

Sat, 01 Feb 2025 16:47:31 GMT

One of the most formidable thresholds we may have the fortune of facing greets us at midlife

Our world is governed by powerful cycles of transformation. In response to these cycles, we often try to ground ourselves in a sense of permanence or familiarity- a wish to counteract the disorientation and messiness of traversing phases. Despite our best efforts to control, we all remain swept up in the greater rhythms of life. Autumn turns to Winter without consulting our personal calendars- our bodies send us untimely yawns and soup cravings- internally mirroring the external shift of seasons. And finally, following the fallow period of quiet stillness, deep nourishment, and necessary rest… alongside the archetypal return of the light… Spring arrives.

Often associated with imagery of gleaming eggs, pastel hues, and the general sweetness of being newly born- Spring is defined by rebirth and reemergence. Beyond potentially saccharine visions, we confront the reality of change. For anyone who has found themselves crossing one horizon into unknown, murky territory- it becomes quickly apparent that change is both daunting and messy.

One of the most formidable thresholds we may have the fortune of facing greets us at midlife. The Community for Conscious Aging formed in 2018 with an aim of meeting this potent transition, and the path ahead, with intentionality and grace. Our genesis came from conversations between friends about the process of aging, questions about how to find or keep a community, and how to deal with the mounting challenges of aging. A collection of volunteers, committed to an evolving vision of aging well, created a space for engaging these concerns and welcoming others as they embark on and prepare for their own version of the same journey.

Acknowledging the inherently tangled experience of aging, our Spring programming aids in navigation of the forest ahead, sharing light from those with expertise and experience. Monthly ‘Lunch & Learns’ offer free opportunities for folks to convene virtually for an hour, engaging such topics as reclaiming joy in aging, accepting oneself as an ‘emerging elder’, and tending to our personal needs- alongside those in the collective. Workshops and community circles follow, inviting deeper engagement, learning, and connection- all in service to steadying a heartfelt experience of aging.

In the afternoon of our lives, the Community for Conscious Aging sustains an intention to grow an inclusive learning community of vitality, purpose, and wisdom. C.G. Jung wrote, “In the second half of life, the necessity is imposed of recognizing no longer the validity of our former ideals, but of their contraries.” Our upcoming programs confront what’s behind us and support charting the course ahead, so we can approach the journey of aging with clear eyes, supported by communally-held wisdom. We welcome you to join us this Spring.

Becoming Whole is Messy

Wed, 01 Jan 2025 16:29:21 GMT

Growth and transformation work can be like cleaning out a closet

Carl Jung reminds us, “There is no coming to consciousness without pain.” It is by growing through the pain that comes with awareness, acceptance, and integration of our hidden aspects, that we find freedom from our illusions and false narratives that magnify suffering.

Growth and transformation work can be like cleaning out a closet. It requires awareness, discernment, and patience. Some of us find the process grueling. We know that if it has been a long time, the next step may be filling up a whole roomful of stuff to sort before we decide what is staying and what is going. It can be difficult to get motivated because it usually gets worse before it gets better.

If we ignore it long enough and keep cramming new items in without sorting out the old, the shelves could collapse and require immediate attention. A sudden clean-out might give us a clear view of the shadows that hid behind all that stuff we piled on over the years. Talk about messy! Like a violent spring cleaning we didn’t ask for, crisis can empty the closet leaving us sitting on the floor wondering what was there before, where it all went, and what we did to deserve the shakedown. Alternatively, we may feel like we are lying on the floor with all our stuff piled on top of us, finding it hard to see the light or breathe.

At mid-life, I was jolted into growth work by personal and professional crises. My life, my closet, was overpacked and it needed renovation. A few health scares, my own and those of loved ones, seemed to empty me out. I was left with thoughts like, “What even matters anymore?” At other moments I felt I was buried under a pile of roles, responsibilities, and expectations that were part of who I thought I was but no longer wanted to be.

The sudden clean out was more than I could manage on my own. I hired a couple of closet organizers, a Jungian analyst and a spiritual teacher. Through one-on-one work and through book and workshop recommendations which lead to learning and practice communities, I was able to develop a system for accepting, understanding, and supporting a more authentic and fulfilling life. I began journaling, practicing mindfulness and meditation, and dabbling in creative writing and visual art for self-connection and emotional expression. I dove into learning about personality types and patterns and the principles and practices associated with nonviolent communication. The insights that were curated during study and practice provided plenty of motivation for developing discipline.

Daily practice became my regular sorting of who I am, what I care about, and how I want to spend my time supporting my mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual wellbeing. I aimed my intention and motivation toward becoming more authentic and whole. My combination of practices began evolving with me. At some point I realized that if I keep learning and practicing, it would be unlikely that I would ever get as far away from myself as I once was.

Many of the theories, practices, and communities I have connected with over the years have direct ties to the Jung Center Houston. It is such a joy to continue the messy journey to wholeness here, where folks can explore a wide variety of theories, tools, and practices so that they can discover what works for them in a community oriented toward individuation, wellbeing, and wholeness.

We Live Among Spirits

sfitz@junghouston.org (Sean Fitzpatrick) — Wed, 18 Dec 2024 21:16:20 GMT

Holding space for the search for wholeness

Recently, my son and I took our cameras and rambled through Sealy and San Felipe, small and much smaller towns west of Houston. It was the first day for months that I had nothing on my calendar. San Felipe once was home to Stephen F. Austin's colonial headquarters. William Travis raised a militia in San Felipe and left from there to defend the Alamo, where he was martyred. After the Alamo fell, the residents of San Felipe fled in advance of the Mexican army, and they made the choice to burn the town rather than leave its timber and goods for the enemy. They never returned.

Danny and I roamed the reconstructed cabins, school, and meeting house, clicking away here and there. Like most historical sites I've visited, San Felipe is placid. Horses grazed nearby. You must imagine the life that once filled these empty spaces, life so consequential as to merit a (well-curated) temple to its vanished significance.

We live among spirits. We tend to use that word to refer to metaphysical beings, ghosts that haunt us, angels that protect us, ancestors that guide us. Whether we think of them metaphysically or metaphorically, they are psychologically real. We have conceptual language to talk about them: archetypes, cultural complexes, intergenerational trauma. They all refer to the enduring truth expressed by William Faulkner: "The past is never dead. It's not even past."

The trick is noticing the spirits, the past that is present. They live in our language, our stories, our landscapes, our bodies. Some that would disrupt our certainties yearn to emerge into our awareness. At the heart of Jung's way of seeing is a movement toward wholeness. Not goodness per se, or moral purity, but a reconnection and relationship among parts that have become separated. For that to happen, we need spaces in which they are welcome.

Danny and I had lunch at the Saddleback Saloon in Sealy. The bartender saw his camera and parked at our table for a while, talking lenses and gear. She learned on her father's film camera, in her high school's darkroom. A single mom whose eldest is a bit younger than Danny, she freelances on the side because she clearly loves it. We stayed after lunch for a couple of games of pool. More people drifted in. She brought their orders before they could place them, hugged a few. We were the only strangers. And we weren't anymore.

Zeus' sister Hestia was the goddess of the hearth and of hospitality. In ancient Greece, the first sacrifice was always made to Hestia, because hosting, welcoming, holding space comes before all else. Hestia, like all the figures we call gods, evokes an enduring pattern in human life, an archetype, which Jung suggested "is like an old watercourse along which the water of life has flowed for centuries, digging a deep channel for itself."

The work of hosting isn't heroic. It's relational, curious. It creates space for connection, nourishment, mending, discovery, celebration. It's the work of The Jung Center. We create space for our complexity and complication, for all our spirits to emerge into relationship.

For the first time in our history, we have launched a special giving campaign. We have tripled the reach of our educational programs in the last five years. Our financial resources need to grow to match current and future community needs. Please consider giving. To learn more, visit https://junghouston.app.neoncrm.com/campaigns/bridging-the-gap .

Sean Fitzpatrick, PhD

Executive Director

The Darkness of the Womb

sfitz@junghouston.org (Sean Fitzpatrick) — Fri, 08 Nov 2024 16:56:43 GMT

Real change can only emerge from fierce love

Friends,

This is a sacred week. It doesn't feel that way.

Before sunrise a few days ago, I walked bleary-eyed through the aisles of the grocery store three blocks from my home. Milk for a teenager who blows through a gallon a day if it's around, frozen vegetables, quick things for dinner. Feeling sad, exhausted, and anxious, as I often have in this season in our communal life. So much is at stake this week, and so little will be resolved. Tension will give way to more tension.

In the dairy section, a song lyric from the store's sonic wallpaper broke through my gloom: "A time for love, a time for hate." We've all heard it, likely -- "Turn, Turn, Turn" by The Byrds, from 1965. Before my time, but not by much; it was part of a moment that my ironic generation struggled to relate to. But that song has always affected me. It's based on Ecclesiastes, the book deeply cherished in Jewish and Christian traditions.

It voices a hard human truth, one we struggle to accept. Hate and love are fundamentally human. Killing and healing, too. They are timeless dynamics in society and in each of us.

We live in a brutally polarized time. Brutal because of its rhetorical violence and its inevitably increasing physical violence. But also because of the violence done to each of us by forcing us into inhuman binaries. Half of the country will see election results as a triumph over evil, while the other will see them as the end of democracy.

I have my own politics, of course. They aren't centrist. They are more complex than the binaries of the ballot allow -- like most of us, I bet. Part of me will either grieve or feel a kind of relief when the ballots are counted. A growing part of me will grieve no matter what happens, and will be drawn to despair.

But this time is sacred. A few years ago, the Sikh civil rights activist Valarie Kaur posed a question that continues to grow in power: "Is this the darkness of the tomb, or the darkness of the womb?" It may sound like another binary, but it isn't. It speaks to the life contained within death, to the work of carrying our uncertainty and fear without losing hope, without closing off the possibility of a future that escapes our fiercely defended binaries.

Hope lies in tearing our gaze away from the dangerously hypnotizing spectacle of national politics and bringing it back to what is in the sphere of our responsibility and agency. In refusing to reduce complexity to artificial simplicity. In doing the harder, more powerful work of relating across differences, here, with people in our communities. This is the time for bridging, an idea borrowed from John A. Powell of the Othering and Belonging Institute and an important element of our collaborative work with the American Leadership Forum. When we bridge, we relate with empathy to those whose politics and narratives are far different than ours, without pressing them to convert or change.

There is a time for breaking, too: when our fundamental right to exist is denied or breached. But we are being herded to break with each other by forces that have no interest in preserving our shared humanity.

Our work is to rehumanize each other.

Valarie Kaur tells us that social change movements rooted in anger and grievance are unsustainable. Real change -- in each of us first, and then in our communities -- can only emerge from fierce love. If we stand on love, we allow something unexpected, unplanned, and unbound by our false, violent binaries, to emerge. Something new, and sacred.

With fierce love,

Sean Fitzpatrick, PhD

Executive Director

After Beryl

Fri, 12 Jul 2024 16:32:00 GMT

Friends,

I’ve been dreaming of the apocalypse since I was a child. When I was younger, it was a horizon-swallowing tornado, or hundreds of them, which later were uncannily reflected back to me in Jeff Nichols’ haunting film Take Shelter. In one dream, maybe a decade ago, the sun went out, extinguished in a blink. Light, and all our certainties, were instantly gone. We knew it was coming, but could do nothing to stop it.

That dream came back to me as I stood at my kitchen sink this morning, washing dishes in a daze while a hurricane, Beryl, shook every living thing outside my window. Beryl wasn’t supposed to come this far east. It’s hard to find new language to write about something so powerful and yet common, repeated on this stretch of the southeast Texas coast every several years. A couple of months ago many of us learned a new word, derecho , for a different kind of invisible god, one that ripped trees out by the roots and flung them across neighborhoods. Right after the derecho hit, unknowing, I took the spookiest drive of my life in the dark, around downed limbs and debris, not encountering a working traffic light on six miles of city streets.

I’m writing this in the parking lot of a grocery store near my house, the last of Beryl’s winds blowing through the open windows of my car. Neighbors’ cars pull in and out — the store is one of the only places nearby with power. Trees are down across the street, and fire trucks and heavily armored police vehicles speed by regularly. On my short drive here, I passed neighbors cleaning up their lawns. A group of millennial dads in cargo shorts and mucking boots stood around a portable table drinking beer, their chainsaws on the driveway. Couples walk past, holding hands, on their way to the store.

A flock of pigeons amble outside my car, too. Some have plopped down on the asphalt; others are pecking and preening. My father’s father raised pigeons. He raced them in southern Pennsylvania — one of my earliest memories is of gently packing them in crates, releasing them an hour from his home, driving back to the house to time their return. I’ve seen them hundreds of times in this parking lot, and also never saw them until today.

That dream I mentioned earlier didn’t end with the sun going out. The expanse of the Milky Way snapped into vivid presence, illuminating us differently, as if by candlelight.

These experiences elude rational concepts. The psychiatrist C.G. Jung borrowed a good word for them, though: numinous. It describes experiences that fill us with awe and terror. For a moment, we can see something else that is also present, something that may shake our foundations. That invites us to see in new ways, to look past our screens (frustratingly unresponsive on my side of town today). To see what is hidden in plain sight. To hear what is humming under our language.

We can choose where we put our attention, even when all else seems out of our control. Now, more than ever in my lifetime, I believe we need to develop that capacity so we can choose wisely, before the invitation to see in new ways becomes an increasingly destructive demand.

With concern for all affected by this storm,

Sean Fitzpatrick

Executive Director, The Jung Center, sfitz@junghouston.org

Interviewing Derrick: A Story of Resilience, From Poverty to Harvard

Thu, 20 Jun 2024 21:55:00 GMT

With all the socioeconomic challenges he faced as a young adult, Derrick Ngo would have disappeared in the eyes of the American system. I interviewed Derrick, an Asian American student growing up in poverty about his upbringing, from poor student to Harvard graduate.

Growing up in poverty is an often condemning status that sets many Americans up for failure. Looking at Derrick’s situation, success would not have been a likely outcome for him. Explaining his childhood, Derrick said: “My biggest challenges while growing up were lack of access to quality food, healthcare, and educational resources. Basically, if I got sick I didn’t get treatment. So I had to figure out life one hundred percent on my own.” Looking back on his circumstances he states: “I did not receive as much access to opportunities and support as many of my peers.”

Despite the chance of success not being in his favor, his journey to college serves as an example of his persistence. He emphasizes the importance that his goals had on his journey: “Even if I did not have a clear idea of my long-term goals, I was setting my goals in the right direction: to work towards a better future.” Regarding the significance of his story, he later says: “I think what made me stand out was that I emphasized my future and learning as a teenager.” He adds: “In my junior and senior year of high school, I decided to apply to the Ivy League colleges. I didn’t really think I had a good chance at them, but I thought they were worth applying to.” This decision turned out to be a good one as his hard work was recognized by Harvard University, who offered him admission in 2019.

Derrick’s story is a testament to achieving one’s potential despite the challenges they faced. He represents resilience and persistence, two traits that are critical to enduring the challenges and obstacles of life.

In concluding his interview, Derrick was asked about his biggest takeaway from his upbringing, to which he answered: “try to have a clear sense of purpose, try to define what you want to achieve and why. It is difficult to get to a place if you don’t know where you’re going.”

Interviewed by Kien Tom, a freshman at Post Oak High School. As part of an internship with The Jung Center, Kien is expressing his passion for story-telling by holding conversations with members of our community and highlighting their stories and the ways they’re helping make Houston a better place.

The post Interviewing Derrick: A Story of Resilience, From Poverty to Harvard appeared first on The Jung Center of Houston, Texas .

Noticing Synchronicities as a Mindfulness Practice

Tue, 18 Jun 2024 21:28:00 GMT

If you’ve ever set foot in a Jungian space, you’re probably familiar with the concept of synchronicity . The term was coined by Carl Jung in the 1920s, and refers to the phenomenon in which otherwise unrelated events are connected through personal meaning. In other words, a synchronicity is an apparent coincidence that holds an emotional or spiritual connection for you. For example:

● Dreaming about an old friend the night before they reach out to you for the first time in years.

● Hearing the same specific phrase repeatedly from different sources.

● Watching a random episode of a tv show in which the characters are dealing with the same issues you’ve been dealing with.

It’s fun to notice synchronicities in our daily life, and as a practice, taking note of synchronicities can actually improve mindfulness and mental well-being.

It Builds a Sense of Interconnectedness

Our most recent blog post talks about the interdependence of the human race, and the importance of remembering that we’re all connected. Observing synchronicities is another way of reminding ourselves of this interdependence.

An overheard conversation between complete strangers could happen to give you the answer to a question you’ve been wrestling with, noticing that you’re wearing the exact same outfit as someone else at the bar could be the beginning of an impactful friendship – every person we meet has the power to change the course of our lives forever (and we hold that sacred power as well).

It’s an Insight into Your Subconscious

If you find you’re repeatedly noticing synchronicities in your life, that can be your brain’s unconscious way of steering you towards something you need to focus on. Try keeping a journal of the synchronicities you observe, and see what themes are frequently cropping up for you, and what personal significance they hold.

Say you’re having recurring dreams about frogs, and suddenly you’re seeing frogs all the time when you go out for walks, watch TV, and scroll social media. If you keep noticing them, start to consider what you personally associate with frogs. Are they the favorite animal of someone special? That could be your subconscious inviting you to reach out and spend time with that person. Does a frog hopping from place to place symbolize a sense of freedom for you? Maybe you’re feeling stuck somewhere, and you’re being urged to take a metaphorical leap into something new.

There’s no wrong answers. Analyzing the things that repeatedly catch your attention and the thoughts and feelings they evoke can provide a powerful glimpse into what’s bubbling up below the surface.

It Anchors us to the Moment

When we take note of a moment of synchronicity, it holds our awareness in the present. Appreciating the weird coincidences in life gets us to pay attention to the right-here-right-now, and the simple act of wondering at what feels like a magic little moment curated just for us, and basking in the joy of it, is a mindfulness practice in itself.

What are Some Synchronicities You Can Appreciate?

The next time you hear a stranger hum the song that’s been stuck in your head all morning, or a friend texts you seconds before you were about to text them, take a moment to sit with the joy of the experience. Wonder at the perfect timing and laugh at the strangeness of the moment, and how many little pieces had to fall into place just so in order for you to have that experience.

Mindfulness teaches us to be fully present in the moment, and what better way is there to do so than to stop and appreciate life’s little magics?

– –

Article by Rachel Connelly (Mind Body Spirit Institute Associate)

The post Noticing Synchronicities as a Mindfulness Practice appeared first on The Jung Center of Houston, Texas .

How do we honor those we depend on?

Mon, 03 Jun 2024 19:29:00 GMT

Kindness Matters

Last month, I talked about the importance of acknowledging humanity’s interdependence. Recognizing how much we need each other can help us develop our ability to accept and feel kindness toward others. As Dr. King says above, we rely on the efforts of thousands of workers of all types from across the globe, simply to put breakfast on our plates. Consider that for a moment — teams of farmers, maintenance crews, shippers, marketers, grocery store staff, and more — all of these people were necessary for you to get the nourishment you need this morning.

Yet, we live in a society that often overlooks our everyday essential workers. We’re so accustomed to having our basic needs met, it becomes easy to forget how much global human effort goes into meeting those needs.

For many of us, COVID was an eye-opener in this respect. We rarely went a day without hearing the phrase “essential workers”, and we were constantly seeing fellow humans risking their health and safety in order to keep our society functioning. And while today, the danger and health risks are (thankfully) minimized — also thanks to countless people working endless hours — essential workers are still just as essential to our community and livelihood.

So how do we acknowledge them, and let them know how much we appreciate what they do for us? To put it simply — be kind. Tip your servers well, have patience when your delivery is running late, thank the person bagging your groceries sincerely. Offer a helping hand or listening ear to your friends suffering from work burnout. It’s a matter of remembering that every worker, every person, is a human trying their best. Everyone has their own talents, struggles, goals, good and bad days, and is deserving of care and respect.

There’s a story I’ve always appreciated about a child who watched her mother get their mailman cold water and ask about the health of his son when he came to deliver their mail for the day. The daughter asked incredulously, “Mom, are you friends with the mailman?!”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” the mother responded. “We could not get mail unless someone like Sam did his job. I appreciate his work. And being a mail carrier is not who he is ; it’s what he does . He’s no different than you and me.”

What if we all had that attitude with those who contribute to our lives?

It’s important that we extend that appreciation to ourselves as well. Think also of processes that you play a part in and consider what special talents you have that benefit those around you. This can be your role in the workplace, with family, or in your social circle. Are you a great baker, ensuring that every party you attend is supplied with dessert? A great organizer, able to help your friends unpack after a big move? While you are a human being , not a human doing , you have something special and unique to contribute, as do we all.

The more often we acknowledge that all of us matter, the more acceptance and loving kindness we will feel for ourselves and others.

by Ann Friedman, Director of Curriculum for the Mind Body Spirit Institute of The Jung Center, Psychologist and Mindfulness Facilitator

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What Retirees Want: A Holistic View of Life’s Third Age

Fri, 31 May 2024 16:41:00 GMT

Ken Dychtwald, PhD, and Robert Morison

Hoboken, New Jersey: John Wiley and Sons, Inc: 2020. (300 pages).

Ken Dychtwald, building on his sixteen books and career research on aging and his co-author, Robert Morison, present their collective experience in What Retirees Want: A Holistic View of the Third Age. In a multidimensional examination, the authors cite their research of the Baby Boomers, who are amplifying the impact of aging on life as we know it. Sixty-eight million retirees with a life expectancy of 79 years, in the US, (21% of population) are projected to grow to 82 million by 2040. (pg.10). Baby Boomer retirees are distinguished by: a) increasing numbers; b) increasing longevity; c) increased number of educated, skilled and working women; d) rising racial and ethnic diversity and e) increasing wealth. These educated, wealthy retirees have also become the most powerful consumer group in history (pg.11). Characterizations of current retirees reveal their perceptions and understandings of how they want to live. The authors identify four categories of retirees: Ageless Explorers welcome opportunity, adventure, exploration and personal reinvention. They don’t intend to wind down and expect a better balance between work and leisure. Comfortably Contents have much in common with Ageless Explorers, however, they approach retirement as reward for conscientious work, “you worked hard now you can play”. Live for Todays hope to continue with new experiences and adventures in retirement, seeking personal growth and reinventing themselves. Worried Strugglers , compared with other segments are less ready and able to enjoy retirement. They have fewer financial resources and dreams for what they would like to do. Note: Twenty per cent fall in the first three groups. (pp. 20-23). Generally, “what they want is health for life, freedom to be one’s authentic self and a chance to pursue one’s purpose and personal version of happiness.” (pg. 26). A strength of What do Retirees Want: A Holistic View of the Third Age , is the examination of specific trends to describe the “lifescan” of the current retirees. Retirement, for them, is a journey not a destination. A destination for which there seems to be little training or preparation.

In the second half of the book, the authors explore ageism questions and offer observations of the: a) perceptions of elders and their roles, b) expressions of elder engagement in society and c) challenges elders experience in retirement. “ The social narrative is basically that mid-life is a crisis. And after that you have decrepitude. But you are much happier in your 60 and 70’s. Why aren’t you preparing for that? “Chip Conley, Founder of Modern Elder Academy. (pg.53) posits. Despite the vigor and activism of current retirees, the perception persists that old is bad and young is good. A “reframing of aging” in language, imagery and actions is the call to action voiced by the authors. Elder, for example, has a positive meaning in indigenous populations and religious circles, emphasizing the revered, state of elderhood, while “old” is rejected by most elders. Modern elder is a proposed term as well as older adult, older person or older, mature, senior or elder depending on context. “Retirement” typically contemplated 15 years prior to actual retirement, does not capture the scope of opportunities of contemporary older life experiences. While labeling of “retirement” is inadequate, those approaching it recognize the potential transformational change generated by this new stage of life.

One prominent expression of the ageism is media presentation of seniors who are often represented as ailing and inactive. While retirees are an unprecedented social and market force, marketing has been largely disinterested in this groups. (pg. 27). With diverse interests, tastes and experiences, one size fits all marketing approaches are insufficient to entice retirees into the market. They are, in fact active, working and generously spending on families and leisure pastimes.

The labor participation rate of workers 65+ has risen to levels not seen since 1950’s (pg.63) with seven in ten Baby Boomers expecting to work in new ways after age 65. The authors present the case for employment, by debunking existing myths of senior workers and underscoring their experience, wisdom and empathy contributions as well as their skills. While industries may not be ready or trained to engage the retired work force, investment in and accommodations for retirees generates productive work conditions for all employees.

Soon to be retirees often ask: “ What will I do in retirement?” With 50 trillion leisure hours (worldwide) to fill (pg.88) Including $200 billion in travel (pg.93) as well as choices to work, Boomers have unprecedented options. Leisure is driving massive growth in the experience economy-products and services (pg. 92). Travel may be the tip of the iceberg with online leisure, health, exercise, social connection and nature are key attractions for retirees. Demand is high for education, food and family time, often including multigenerational travel. Free time not dependent on wealth, sparks these adventurous spirits.

Maximizing the work and leisure opportunities is largely influenced by health status. Health is the most consuming concern for retirees and the most important ingredient for happiness. Retirees are motivated and engaged with healthy habits of nutrition and exercise, believing they can influence and change health status by diet and exercise. (p.121). Yet, Americans (67%) believe the health care system isn’t ready for an aging population (p.140). With rising costs of health care and the almost unaffordable care at late life facilities, retirees often sacrifice health and drugs to accommodate these rising costs.

Family relationships are given high priority as individuals age and responsibilities of care giving present while simultaneously social ties in other domains such as workplace and community diminish. Retirees experience a freedom to live where and how they want to live. Seventy-nine percent over 65 own their home, 14 million older Americans live alone (70% women) and 2.5 million are in assisted living or nursing homes. The decisions of renovating, down-sizing or upsizing or place offering care and support are common dilemmas in family transitions and reflect retirees desire to live in their own home. Twenty percent of retirees are living in multigenerational homes and transgenerational family living, single parent homes and LGBTQ families are increasing. Alternative housing with services such as group housing, independent and assisted living, retirement communities are expanding. For elders, services and products are being generated to align with the needs and preferences of retirees.

Funding longevity, a significant concern of retirees, is a confluence of several key factors: a) increased cost of goods and services over time; b) cost of additional and increasing services related to health care; c) changes in financial status based on status family (divorce, widowhood) and d) family and community giving commitments. Less than half Americans over 60 feel their retirement savings are on track with greatest concerns cost of healthcare, cost of living and supporting their lifestyle and outliving savings. Baby Boomers are a generous and giving group, supporting parents, children and grandchildren, often called the “family bank.” Purpose driven, their charity giving is high as well. Yet with the average cost of retirement over 1 million dollars with most retirees having at most $135,000 saved toward retirement (p.199), generosity can pose serious health and financial burdens on retirees. Women, living longer than men experience a particularly difficult time with less wages and less savings

What Retirees Want: A Holistic View of the Life’s Third Age successfully helps readers navigate the compelling trends that reflect an unprecedented opportunity for the aging population. The authors have skillfully framed research in a user-friendly way by citing examples and offering recommended actions for individual, community and system changes to accommodate the explosive aging population. Strong in numbers and economic power, the call to action for social and economic advances accommodating the needs and aspirations of this age is clear. The authors are optimists that the future holds significant opportunities for changes favorable to aging. Retirees have the time and opportunity to: a) engage in new interests; b) drive innovation in the economy for more beneficial living; c) explore technology and research of services, products and health care for aging needs and d) experiment in new learning and education to satisfy aging curiosity. Flexible life plans that emphasize healthy and happy living including pauses for education, leisure and work, throughout life are a primary message of the book. This comprehensive book is a must read for anyone contemplating what life is like in the Third Stage of Life. While readers will not find an on ramp to retirement, they will find facts, stories, propositions and resources. The authors provoke the question of how to prepare subsequent generations for the experience of this “afternoon of life.” Guidance in the spirit of intergenerational learning for the future needs to be the subject of ongoing research. Perhaps the authors will consider research exploring “early elders.”

Reviewed: Beth E. Quill 5/29/24

Why do we meditate in groups?

Wed, 22 May 2024 16:53:00 GMT

Houston Meditation Group

Group meditation is a practice that spans time and cultures. For centuries, like-minded individuals have gathered together to create moments of shared stillness, whether for religious purposes or as a secular mind-body wellness practice. And now, with modern technology, group meditation is more accessible than ever. With live-streaming and video conferencing platforms, people from around the world can virtually gather together and reap the benefits of meditating with their community.

So why is it so important to us at The Jung Center that we hold space for these communal practices, and create regular, accessible opportunities for everyone to engage in group mindfulness and meditation?

Finding your Meditation Community

It’s no secret that the past couple of years have been isolating for a myriad of reasons, and group meditation is a wonderful way to come together and simply exist in the presence of other people. We are naturally social beings, and even the biggest introverts need a certain amount of connection with others. That’s why The Jung Center’s Mind Body Spirit Institute initially began our weekly Power of Community meditations during the height of the pandemic – to offer a 100% free, virtual space for our community members to connect and share a moment of peace together each week.

We have since thankfully been able to reintroduce in-person sessions, but Power of Community remains a popular way for our patrons, both locally and internationally, to have a quick moment of reconnection in the middle of the week. Belonging to a group that meets regularly, online or in-person, allows us to feel like part of something greater, and also gifts us with a support system to engage with socially, that we can learn from and use to hold each other accountable in keeping up with our practice.

A Deeper Meditation Practice

Many individuals have reported that they feel they are able to “go deeper” when meditating in a group vs. by themselves. Meditation often involves expanding your awareness outside of your body, and many find that group meditation allows them to more easily and deeply connect to a sense of collective consciousness. General neuroscience research on group socialization shows that when we share experiences with other humans, our brain waves begin to sync up . We literally become “on the same wavelength” as those we are sharing the experience with.

When that effect is coupled with the effects of meditation on the brain , and making a conscious effort to reach out to others on a spiritual level, the resulting sense of connection to our surroundings is deep and intense. Some researchers have even theorized that the intense connection and collective peace felt through group meditation actually has the capacity to ripple outward and positively impact our general social climate . (For our Jungians, the connection is often made to Jung’s theories on the collective unconscious .)

Why Meditation is Beneficial?

No matter your meditation experience level, there is much to be gained from meditating as part of a group. Not only is it a way for us to deepen our practice in a spiritual sense, but finding a meditation group introduces us to like-minded individuals and gives us a safe space to socialize and gently hold each other accountable, all for the sake of bettering ourselves and the world around us.

– –

We’re beginning to roll out our Summer 2024 class schedule ! If you’re looking for group meditation opportunities, the Mind Body Spirit Institute’s Power of Community , Mindful Morning Moments , and Meditaciones en Español are all completely free, virtual meditation groups with regular weekly and monthly sessions. Come join us!

Article by Rachel Connelly (MBSI Associate), rconnelly@junghouston.org

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Self-Realization Through Community

Thu, 09 May 2024 21:30:00 GMT

Trey Dulaney is a sophomore at the Post Oak School. He has been working with special needs individuals to create a community, and he also volunteers in places that give jobs to people with intellectual disabilities. While also spreading the gospel to the community, he is a part of the SLA, the Servant Leadership Academy, which helps create organizations within the church for people with disabilities, and the YBL, Youth Becoming Leaders, an organization that focuses on building young leaders in communities. As my classmate, I found the extent of the wisdom and kindness he shared regarding his service amazing. Trey’s experience shows how a simple act of kindness over a couple of hours a week can change a person for the better.

When interviewing him, I asked how he started working with the special needs community, and he answered, “I’ve been doing it since I was a kid. My goal is to give back and help by speaking not with words but with actions.”

He remarks later about the hardships he encounters in his work, “Sometimes you or the students can have an off day, where you need to overcome weariness or frustration. Patience is the hardest part. Learning to give people the time that they need, not the time that they think.”

When asked about advice he would give to someone interested in a service similar to his, he says, “Because I mainly work with students with special needs, you should realize that each person is unique and precious, and that so often they are put down, unaccepted, and called useless. What we are called to do is to help make sure that everyone has the opportunity and resources to achieve their dreams that everyone said were impossible.”

What captivated me most from the interview was the reason for his passion for the work. One of the bigger takeaways that exemplified this passion was when he said, “When you enter these things, you often think ‘I’m so good that I’m doing these things for [these people]’, but in actuality, these people have changed me as a person. In the end, you come out a better person, learning optimism, compassion, unconditional love, and persistence. Their attitude towards life has improved my resilience, like how we’re supposed to act and how we’re supposed to love through them.”

He ended the interview with a message to young people seeking similar community service: “I have seen through my life and others that being with this community for a week can change someone. They aren’t being your friends to get something out of you, but just because of you as a person.”

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Interdependence and Curiosity in a Chaotic World

Tue, 07 May 2024 02:46:00 GMT

As the Nobel Prize winning economist Milton Friedman said in 1980:

The rubber, aluminum, lead, wood, and paint are all sourced through different countries, and require shipping, manufacturing, and marketing before you purchase the pencil at a store also kept running by a number of individuals. We need each other to keep the world moving, and everyone’s participation matters.

So, how does it help to remember that we are interdependent as we struggle to agree on key sociopolitical issues? First, when we remember our interdependence, we can remember that others, even those we disagree with, are still making valuable contributions to the world we live in, perhaps through their work, their volunteering, or through raising another generation. Everyone is worthy of respect.

Living life with curiosity is also key. We all have opinions and it’s important for us to speak up and do our part to bring change and make the world a better place. It’s also important to maintain a level of curiosity and an open mind. Mindfulness teaches us to be humble with our opinions, to let go of our self-righteousness.

Allow yourself to entertain the possibility that you could be wrong about something, or that you may not have all the facts. Examine different sources, listen to what others have to say about certain matters. You may come out the other side with an even firmer conviction, or you may be surprised to learn that your original beliefs have shifted. It can be helpful to start sentences with, “In my opinion” or, “From what I have read, it appears…”, and accept the possibility that there may be more information out there than what you have, and remain open to learning more.

This summer, I will be teaching a class on The Five Chairs (stay tuned for more event details!), which helps us learn non-violent communication, a way to speak to each other with civility and care. It can be a game changer for us in our everyday lives. As one of my heroes, Reverend Martin Luther King Jr. emphasized:

Perhaps we can’t bring peace everywhere, but we can learn to bring it to our families, our friendships, our associates at work, and others in our spheres. There’s never been a more important time.

by Ann Friedman, Director of Curriculum for the Mind Body Spirit Institute of The Jung Center, Psychologist and Mindfulness Facilitator

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Ageism Is Real. We Have Work to Do.

Wed, 06 Mar 2024 19:12:00 GMT

A large segment of our community — the baby boom generation — is heading to retirement. By 2030, everyone in that generation will be 65 or older, which will affect our entire society in many ways. What does mental health look like as we age?

So much depends on our experience of community. We’re used to thinking about 65 as a time when adults are considering retirement — retirement is kind of the catchall term we have for the end of our lives. Which is telling, because it’s chiefly an economic idea. It’s the time when we leave the workforce. In our culture, we tend to prize our economic role and value as the core element of our identity.

When you’re meeting someone for the first time, how often do you ask “So, what do you do for a living?” rather than “So, what are your values?” or “What are you curious about right now?” What that means for people who are aging is that they are facing a sharp change in their identity. If they are employed — many are not — it also often means a drastic loss of community. And our mental health can and does suffer.

One of the core risks for the mental health of the aging population is loneliness. Addressing it is simple, but not easy: intentionally build community. Fundamentally, this depends on reclaiming the value of older people.

Gerontologists talk about the third age and the fourth age. The third age extends roughly from the time when children have left the home and economic roles are winding down until we become frail and in need of care, which is the fourth age. Reclaiming the wisdom of people in these periods of their lives as socially invaluable is part of the work — understanding that the role of elders in the life of community is essential. The chief barrier to this? Ageism.

Ageism refers to discrimination, prejudice, and stereotyping based on age. A 2020 study by the University of Michigan found that 82% of adults aged 50-80 experience one or more forms of ageism in their day to day lives. We can think about ageism in three ways. The first is being exposed to ageist messages, like jokes about old age, aging, or older people, or references to older adults as being unattractive or undesirable. The second way involves ageism in interpersonal interactions. People assume that older people have difficulty with technology, with hearing or seeing, or remembering or understanding. A pernicious one is being perceived as not having anything important or valuable to say, or that they need help with tasks they can do on their own. The third way is internalized ageism, which looks like loneliness and experiences of sadness and depression that older people associate with their age.

The first trick is noticing it. One of my all-time favorite shows is Parks and Recreation. One episode focused on sex education for older people, and while in some ways it was good — it affirmed that, yes, sexual experiences are a healthy part of our lives as we age — it was also full of jokes about how disgusting it is for younger people to imagine them. This is ageism, hiding in plain sight.

The second piece of work is changing it. For those not yet in the third age, it involves speaking up about ageism when you see it — noticing it, and helping others see why it’s a problem. That’s also the work of older people, but just as important is fighting its effects within us.

Our Community for Conscious Aging works to build a community of vitality, purpose, wisdom, and grace, and to develop the social structures needed to ensure that older people remain included in community as elders. To learn more, visit Community for Conscious Aging

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Grateful for the space to learn together.

Wed, 22 Nov 2023 01:18:00 GMT

Friends,

It’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving, and I’m sitting in a local watering hole surrounded by dogs, none of them mine. One is thwapping my back with its tail, uninvited but welcome (more or less). A local dog rescue organization is celebrating its tenth anniversary here this afternoon. A friend will be joining me in a little bit, who I’ve really missed, someone I met through The Jung Center. Somehow, there’s never time to see each other, or not time that I consciously make. But I’m grateful we’ve made the time now.

The practice of gratitude is sometimes pitched to us as a kind of cure-all by therapists, spiritual teachers, and TikTok influencers. If you’re suffering, just look at all the things that are going well. Keep a journal of the things you’re thankful for. Think about all of the people who loved you into being, as Fred Rogers told us (a suggestion that, despite my wary heart, does not get old). The shadow of gratitude is the way it can be used to avoid what is difficult — particularly for those of us advising others to feel it. Sitting with someone in their pain is difficult. And it feels like a season of pain.

But I’m feeling a specific kind of gratitude today. There’s a small mutt wearing a Santa Claus hat sitting on a woman’s lap two tables over. A five-year old just clambered over the bench across from me, where my friend will be sitting in about fifteen minutes. And I spent the morning at The Jung Center, where around fifty of us, some online, some in person, just concluded a weekend with the author and analyst Fanny Brewster.

One of the few Black Jungian analysts in the world, Dr. Brewster delivered the Fay Lectures here, which will be published by Texas A&M University Press. Across three days, a diverse group of earnest, reflective, fallible people came together to hear her deliver “The Racial Psyche: Imagination, Politics, and the Human Spirit.” I’m grateful today for the grace Dr. Brewster brought with her. For the understanding that, as she put it, we are all preschoolers in the conversation about race and difference, just learning how to speak, babbling and learning together. Failing is an unavoidable, necessary part of the process of learning how to relate with others, and our history, with integrity.

Today, I am grateful for The Jung Center. It has been part of my life for more than a quarter century, almost all of my adult life. We need spaces where we can think together, fail together, feel together, learn together. Where we can encounter those who care deeply for our shared humanity. Where we can be curious and let go of our attachment to comfort, in the service of growth and connection.

To be grateful for The Jung Center is to be grateful for all of you. Thank you so much for continuing to create and sustain this singular community.

Warmly,
Sean

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Our Shared Work Against Dehumanization

Tue, 07 Nov 2023 14:02:00 GMT

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Blowing Bubbles Can Be Essential Self-Care

Wed, 30 Aug 2023 20:24:00 GMT

Last Friday, August 25, the entire staff of Houston Area Women’s Center gathered in the training space at Children’s Assessment Center for a day-long retreat. These passionate, courageous, fiercely devoted people work to provide safety and comprehensive, life-saving services to survivors of domestic and sexual violence, empowering individuals, families, and communities to transform trauma, achieve independence, and stop abuse before it happens. It’s difficult work that requires deep commitment and a willingness to witness, and combat, what is worst in human nature.

The Jung Center was invited to lead a 90-minute workshop for the staff on burnout, secondary trauma, self-care, and community care. Instructor Tracie Jae (above) and executive director Sean Fitzpatrick shared skills, insights, and practical tools for making the work sustainable. One of the highlights: after each participant received a small vial of bubble goo, Tracie taught them her simple, profound mindfulness practice: with every breath, we bring what we need into our bodies. When we breathe out, we let go of what we no longer need, what is toxic, painful, and keeps us stuck. And when we blow bubbles, we can see it leaving. We can practice self-care in such small moments, everyday, wherever we may be.

by Sean Fitzpatrick, Executive Director | sfitz@junghouston.org

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Leading with Empathy

Thu, 20 Jul 2023 14:05:00 GMT

Twenty three Houston leaders — elected officials, nonprofit executives, corporate CEOs, funders, deans and college presidents — gathered in the Colorado mountains for a week of intensive, transformational inner work and bridge-building during their American Leadership Forum Wilderness experience. For the first time, The Jung Center was a partner in this work, as Executive Director Sean Fitzpatrick joined former Jung Center trustee Mel Taylor, ALF President Nory Angel, ALF Lead Facilitator Judy Le, and ALF Fellows Program Coordinator Shaina Holm as a co-facilitator of ALF Class 59. As with all Fellows classes, this group reflects Houston’s racial, cultural, religious, and ideological complexity.

At a time when fear and animosity have reached alarming levels, ALF does difficult work: creating and deepening relationships that work against the polarization and isolation of our time. Rather than teaching new management techniques, ALF challenges our leaders to develop the disciplines of introspection and empathy, so they can discover what matters most in their lives and for our communities. The effect can be materially visible and potent; after her Fellows year, Jung Center President Lisa Helfman founded Brighter Bites, a national nonprofit that delivers fresh fruits and vegetables directly into families’ hands. The ALF experience makes much more possible in our community, in less dramatic but no less powerful ways. The Jung Center is in a unique position to deepen this ongoing, vital work, and we are honored to support ALF.

ALF Houston website: https://www.alfhouston.com/

by Sean Fitzpatrick, Executive Director | sfitz@junghouston.org

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The profound injustice of refusing empathy

Tue, 27 Jun 2023 21:53:00 GMT

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Thanks for the memories, Linda Johnson

Thu, 01 Jun 2023 15:21:00 GMT

Linda Johnson
November 10, 1940 – April 28, 2023

Individuation to Linda Johnson was not merely a Jungian concept, it was lived experience. After enjoying every moment of raising her amazing daughter, encouraging her to fly in her own sky, and teaching high school for health professions for 27 years, she turned her energy to her inner life of reflection, dreams, and active imaginings. She would go on “dates” with her inner artist – following her curiosity, uncovering life and all forms of art off the beaten path, and always sharing her discoveries. She left her community of many years in West University and became a neighbor of the Jung Center, enjoying all the Museum District had to offer. Living within an eclectic curation of art, she embraced her high-rise perspective – the weather and traffic patterns, as well as the movement of daylight – with childlike wonder. She had an activist’s heart, a decisive mind, and a spitfire spirit. Being both a lifelong teacher and a lifelong student fueled her integrity and ability to hold truth as her north star, no matter where the collective was moving. To know her was to be deeply inspired. Thank you for imprinting your presence into this Houston Jung Center community.

by Jennifer J. Embry, Jungian analyst and Jung Center instructor and community member

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Attention and Rest

Fri, 10 Mar 2023 18:15:00 GMT

Three times a year, The Jung Center’s Mission Service Committee sits down to explore how the complex world in which we live continually calls us to greater self-awareness. By asking ourselves what the uncertainties and conflicts of life awaken in us, we seek to discover ways of supporting our community in becoming conscious creatures. How do we reconnect with our deeper selves and allow ourselves to feel our deepest needs; how do we relate to others without compromising our uniqueness; how do we show up in and for our communities, bringing our individual best to the aid of the collective – all while the world changes rapidly around, in, and through us? There’s never a right answer that suits everyone, nor is there an answer that can defeat, once-and-for-all, the uncertainties we feel. But we can discover ways to move with the complex rhythms of life – the next little steps we can take, individually and together – as we grapple with these big questions.

Last fall, the Mission Service Committee met to talk about the “attention economy,” a phrase coined by psychologist and economist Herbert A. Simon in his 1971 book, Designing Organizations for an Information-Rich World . Ever since the development of the first electronic computers began in the early 1940s, there was a dual push to expand the new calculating technology further – pushes that continue to affect technological development to this day. On the one hand, we wanted more and faster calculations, which required making the internal workings of the individual computer more efficient. On the other, we wanted to connect one computer to another, and to share information between them.

This second trend led, in 1969, to the development of the US Department of Defense’s ARPANET, the first computer network. Aspects of the technology for ARPANET were eventually repurposed to create the internet we all use today. With this, the advent of computer networking, we suddenly realized that there was far more information available to us than the human creature was capable of processing. Where before the problem was a scarcity of information, we now had too much information. As Herbert A. Simon put it, “[in] an information-rich world, the wealth of information means a dearth of something else: a scarcity of whatever it is that information consumes. What information consumes is rather obvious: it consumes the attention of its recipients. Hence a wealth of information creates a poverty of attention and a need to allocate that attention efficiently among the overabundance of information sources that might consume it.”

C.G. Jung wrote about attention, too – the same attention that, according to Simon, receives and is consumed by information – and described its importance as a psychic phenomenon. “Without this concentration of attention,” Jung writes, “one could not be conscious at all.” In his early experiments with the Word Association test, and later in The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche , Jung demonstrated that attention and association were complementary opposites. Attention gathers certain images or sense objects close to the ego and ensures their consciousness, and excludes images that the ego deems unnecessary. Association unpredictably brings images or sense objects into relationship with each other, revealing an unconscious connection between them that can be altogether surprising to our conscious minds. He showed that strong attention can slow down or even completely repress our ability to make associations, and that prolonged attention causes us to become physically exhausted.

When we’re “paying attention,” by definition, our minds are not wandering, and a wandering mind is necessary for making associations. But if, in the course of our focus, we have or experience one of these unpredictable associations, our attention suddenly becomes scattered. In The Structure and Dynamics of the Psyche , Jung describes consciousness as an army and attention as its general. Attention formulates our objectives, determines our course of action, and commands our consciousness to move in that direction.

Today, with technology having developed to the point that we can hold a network far more vast than ARPANET in the palm of our hands, and with a world population that has only just recently crossed the 8 billion mark, we’ve entered into the very psychic landscape that the early designers of information systems were trying to avoid. Though social media makes efforts to control content so that their users are not too overwhelmed with the information available to them, we have access to many such streams of information, and billions of people are contributing to those streams. One way that these technologies have attempted to control the flow of information is through the use of algorithms : programs that watch how we interact with content, and gather similar content for us to interact with.

Without our being completely aware of it, this stream of content or information acts like any other image, forcing us into paying attention to it. Attention, which is commonly viewed as one of the psychic phenomena that we have some degree of control over, is taken out of our control by the content we are connected to, via the advanced technology we have at our fingertips. And with the added influence of the algorithm, our attention is ever pulled on to the next bit of content, to the next batch of information. As long as we are looking at our device, we are being forced into paying attention, and, most likely, we will find ourselves sucked into a never-ending flow of information.

Sometimes, it can take a massive effort to pull ourselves out of the cycle. Studies show that the heightened accessibility to the attention of others leads to the same dopamine responses we have when we experience a positive social interaction offline – the chemical boost from the collective that keeps us coming back for more support from that collective. Being connected as we are to millions through the networks in our pockets – and aided by the ability to edit and curate our personae before we show them to others – we have easy access to an incredibly powerful tool for self-soothing. But the amount of people we touch is directly related to the amount and frequency of dopamine released. Up until the world was connected via the internet, we were creatures that received triggers to release dopamine from relatively small social groups. Those interactions, those triggers, were precious gifts. Now, with the entire world in our pocket, we are pushing the chemical limits to which humanity had formerly adapted itself.

Like other addictions, the pursuit of satisfying the chemical loop can completely reorganize our lives. The Mission Service Committee shared stories of friendships shaken, damaged, and even completely, sometimes tragically lost to the unpredictable, attention-grabbing magic that comes from our increased connectivity. Like Goethe’s apprentice sorcerer, we’ve stepped willingly into a dynamic whose energies may tax our ability to control them to its breaking point. Our bodies and our relationships have become the battlegrounds for the fight between the attention-consuming virtuality in our pockets and the association-forming virtuality of the psyche, of the imagination.

If paying attention is exhausting, the soothing balm that this unprecedented situation calls for is actually the same as in all other cases of exhaustion. We need to rest. Rest, however, is not here a collapse or defeat, or even much of a retreat. It comes with its own challenges, not the least of which is finding a way to disengage with our connective technology. Remember, with Jung, that when conscious attention relaxes, unconscious association takes over. Once we set our devices down, and disconnect from the images that others have created for us, we are delivered over to another stream of images. These new images are our own, created by the innate wisdom of the unconscious, and meant to help us bridge the ever-present gap in our understanding of the individual we are and the individual that the beating heart of the world is creating in us.

This summer, The Jung Center will explore both of these powers – attention, and rest. The Mind, Body, Spirit Institute will provide intentional spaces and instruction supporting our recognizing where our attention goes, and to return it to our bodies where it was born. A Feldenkrais workshop will even help us find relief for the parts of our body most affected by the quirks of using our connective technology. The experiential and expressive arts workshops of Creating Your Life will help us recognize our habits around technology, remind us that we have a say in how we apply our attention, and bring to life the images that flow to us when we discard the ones that others have made for us. We are planning to resume our annual summer conference, The Boundaries of the Imagination , under the auspices of the McMillan Institute for Jungian Studies. Over the course of a weekend, those interested can gather both to explore the archetypal dimensions of our attention-hungry age, and to intentionally enter into the inner flow of images through active imagination, writing, movement, and rest. The Community for Conscious Aging will provide free educational experiences geared towards discovering and sharing with future generations the unique wisdom that develops as elders continually search for their true story in a sea of the stories of their ancestors. For those of us that are called to care for others, our Tending the Fire professional workshops will explore how having room for rest, and freedom to locate and relocate our attention, are essential for developing and maintaining sustainability in the work of attending to the suffering of others.

Something paradoxical and magical happens when we do the hard work of learning to rest and relax our attention. Jung describes this magical procedure in Mysterium Coniunctionis . He demonstrates how the alchemists understood that, as we do the painstaking work of separating from the images that others have created for us – of creating a vessel and filling it with what is truly our own – something else happens. The spontaneous images produced for us in dreams begin to attract the attention of the conscious mind. Resting our attention never meant the annihilation of attention: it means the transformation of attention into something more humble, something that wants to pay attention to the associative flow of images, however uncontrollably and inconsistently that flow manifests itself, and at the expense of easily acquiring that next dopamine boost. In this state, where attention and association are held and brought together, the work of the psyche is both completed and never-ending. Developing a love for our inner images, and an attitude that wants to approach them, is the subtle goal of the long and difficult process of becoming who we really are.

Learning to love ourselves, including our images, is the whole point of being self-aware, and becomes the basis on which we learn how to love others, and how to show up and care for our communities. It all starts with rest, but where it may lead is completely up for us to imagine, together.

by Michael Craig, Director of Curriculum | mcraig@junghouston.org

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Farewell to a Friend

Mon, 13 Feb 2023 22:00:00 GMT

Barbara Cowan never minced words, and she loved ferociously. I write this sitting twenty feet from the office where she practiced psychotherapy for decades, a time that overlapped with my early years as an employee here. We received word last week that she had died, and many of us are deeply affected by the news. Barbara taught classes here for many years, and she served on the Sage Council and the Curriculum Committee. The subject she returned to again and again was anger: how we need it, how we can be consumed by it, how, held and expressed cleanly, it can be transformative. Not long after she moved to The Forum, the senior living community where she spent her final years, I visited her a handful of times, and found her undiminished, if struggling with the early stages of memory loss that deepened through the end of her life. She was the most gracious host: warm, curious about my life and work, insightful and engaged in the ongoing revelation that was her life. She remained a generative force, a devoted grandmother of choice to those whose families of origin failed them. She was a gifted clinician and a clear-eyed realist who sought the mutual healing that comes from true intimacy. We would not be the place we are without her. And we will miss her.

The photo above was taken by longtime Jung Center community member Bob Levy ( https://www.boblevy.org/ ).

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School Nurses and Crisis Counselors in Alief ISD

Mon, 13 Feb 2023 21:54:00 GMT

School nurses and crisis counselors in Alief ISD teach us lessons about profound commitment to caring for others.

In the picture above, Alejandro Chaoul, director of The Jung Center’s Mind Body Spirit Institute, shows Alief school nurses how to open themselves to give and receive love (an exercise on loan to us from Rev. Juanita Rasmus, co-pastor of St. John’s UMC and faculty member of MBSI). Thanks to a grant from H-E-B, we have been working with the crisis counseling team in Alief ISD. Any time a campus experiences a major disruption — the death of a community member, major behavioral challenges, or other losses — the crisis counseling team deploys to help the faculty, staff, and students manage their experience. And we have also been privileged to work with school nurses from across the district, who often are the first point of contact struggling children have with community resources. These jobs are emotionally expensive, as our fall benefit lecturer Kate Bowler described them; they require a deep commitment to accepting and holding the suffering of others. We remain privileged to do this work — and personally changed by each encounter we have with these committed, caring people.

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