Jungian Reflections On Grandiosity

From Destructive Fantasies to Passions and Purpose

Francesco Belviso

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9780429603013
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Psychology
• Subtopic: Mental Health in Psychology
• Index: Psychology

In Jungian Reflections on Grandiosity: From Destructive Fantasies to Passions and Purpose, Francesco Belviso presents a dual view of grandiosity as a destructive obsession that, when approached with curiosity and awareness, has the potential of fueling our lives with a sense of purpose, while being a positive force in the world.

Explaining Jungian psychological concepts in an engaging style, the book begins by examining the origins of grandiose fantasies in children, and how grandiosity persists well into adulthood, in our dreams, fantasies, and strivings. Exploring its relation to narcissism and delusions, the book describes how grandiosity can hijack many areas of our lives—as we chase fame, beauty, knowledge, youth, and even morality—often with disastrous consequences. The book's second half explores how grandiosity can help us identify our passions and callings, ending with a discussion on how to pursue them with integrity and courage. Weaving stories from Greek mythology to Dante's poetry, from the heroic lives of Rosa Parks to Captain Sully, from fairy tales to our everyday decisions about careers, finances, selfies, and dating, and from the lives and nighttime dreams of his patients and his own, Belviso invites us to explore the larger-than-life aspirations that stir us all.

This book offers ideas and tools to better understand our ambitions, challenging us to come to terms with our limitations and find personally meaningful paths forward. Jungian Reflections on Grandiosity will be essential reading for academics and students of Jungian studies, as well as analytical psychologists and analysts in practice and in training. It will also be of interest to those wishing to explore Jungian ideas and the role of grandiosity in public and private life.

Part I

Grandiose fantasies and strivings

1

What do we seek?

A year before he died near the summit of Mount Everest, George Mallory was asked what motivated him to join such dangerous climbing expeditions. Dismissively, he shared that there might be some scientific value to them, adding in jest that “geologists want a stone from the top of Everest.” But when Mallory turned more personal, to explain his commitment to summit the highest mountain of the world, he famously quipped, “Because it’s there.”1

And some people may leave it at that. When asked about their lives, they proudly state that they prefer not to complicate things that are meant to be easy. They like to think they know what they want, from their careers to their relationships, and are simply pursuing it. There is nothing deeper influencing their choices, no motivations to be explored, and no fantasies leading them astray. They may even admit that, of course, they are ambitious and competitive, but isn’t that what everyone should do—to shoot for the moon?

In my experience, this approach does not work well. Unaware of their motivations, they may have nighttime dreams filled with anxiety and shame: these are caused by the grandiose fantasies that are actually driving them—fantasies more powerful and potentially destructive than they recognize. But when they wake up in the morning, they say it was all just a bad dream, that there is no need to dwell, and that it is funny to observe how silly the brain is. They engage with their days—their work and their families—unaware that those intense preoccupations still reverberate within. And if their superficially-chosen goals turn out to be unfulfilling or their plans come crashing down, they exclaim, “What was I thinking? What did I do with my life?” Their after-the-fact confusion is due to their ignorance of what they were unconsciously seeking. And typically what has not been explored has a tendency to come back out of left field and hit us right on the nose.

Alternatively, we can work to understand our fantasies and motivations. For instance, by paying attention to the ongoing chatter of our minds, we may realize that there are certain questions we ask ourselves again and again. These are the questions that motivate us and orient our choices, by which we evaluate our achievements and ourselves. Each of us may focus on very different things—we may “hear” ourselves wondering if we are famous, attractive, knowledgeable, virtuous, altruistic, wealthy, insightful, or worthy of love. In my work as a psychologist and in my own life, I have observed that these questions often share an underlying grandiosity, a preoccupation with extraordinary achievements.

In that same interview, for instance, Mallory further elaborated that climbing Everest was born from the “desire to conquer the universe”—note he did not say explore, but conquer.2 And even in our most ordinary lives, we may notice that our motivations are just as grandiose. We do not merely question if we are good enough or even better than most. We instead take it a step further, wondering if we are the best—if we are special and unique. We pursue impossible goals. We strive for what may not be in the cards for us. These are the grandiose fantasies that shape our lives.

I once worked with a man in his late thirties who struggled with his dating life. Through online dating, he met several interesting women, happy and hopeful whenever he felt a connection. He was open—with them and me—about his desire for a serious relationship; since his last one ended more than 10 years prior, he had been craving intimacy and partnership. And I, too, was energized by his stories, given his optimism and enthusiasm. Yet, each and every time we spoke, things would come to a sudden stop. Abruptly, his feelings would wane and his struggle would begin. “How is it possible that a woman I liked so much,” he would ask me, “all of a sudden does not seem to be a good match for me?” I did not know, and it was puzzling indeed.

A clearer understanding emerged only over time, as he unfortunately went through further cycles of starts and stops—each time causing confusion and pain to both him and his new partners. Luckily, he was able to bring curiosity and honesty to the therapy process, as he agreed to voice out loud his inner dialogues about each relationship. When he met a new potential partner and did not feel a connection, it made sense that he broke it off—in the beginning, there has to be enough interest to pursue things further. But when there was a connection, he finally observed, a question emerged from the inside and imposed itself on him: “Is she the one?”

Now, this is a big question, a question that demands a final yes-or-no answer. But such definite answers are nearly impossible at the beginning of any relationship; it takes time to find out if there is long-term potential. With each new relationship, this question would instead take hold of him and force a decision too early, leading him to withdraw and call things off. These explorations helped my patient discover that he was grandiosely seeking “the perfect partner” and a relationship that knows no doubt—an impossible goal. This realization freed him to evaluate new relationships more humbly, such as asking, “How do I feel when we spend time together? Am I looking forward to meeting again?”

In my own life, I came to realize the importance of inner questions when I started working with terminally ill patients. Years before, I had come to the United States to study at Princeton University, where I graduated with a doctorate in economics. My grandiose fantasies reigned supreme. At the time, I was ambitious and determined to pursue a life in academia. Once established professionally, I thought I might even go into politics. Back then, I was sure that the life trajectory I had pursued would ultimately deliver—together with success and accolades—its promises of contentment and satisfaction. However, that was not the case. I was neither content nor satisfied.

Seeking a doorway into a more purposeful life, and hoping to discover more about myself, I started volunteering in the oncology unit of a hospital in Chicago. Later, I shifted to the more intense experience of home hospice, providing home visits to terminally ill patients. Working in hospice care, I was stunned to notice that those I was assisting rarely talked about their academic degrees, careers, financial successes, the stock market, or the number of bedrooms in their homes. Most people, instead, focused on the people they loved and cared for—both the joys springing from relationships and memories, and the regrets for missed opportunities and lost connections.

One conversation I had the privilege of witnessing was between a terminally ill man, father of two young adults, and his best friend. As the man’s health deteriorated and his speech worsened, it became difficult to understand him—when talking requires so much effort, each word becomes precious. His best friend had come for a visit and a goodbye, and he energetically started reassuring my patient. The friend said he would take care of the utility bills, was in contact with the mortgage company, and would help the man’s daughter find a summer internship. Clearly, he had already taken care of so many practical things, like a good friend would. For the ill man, who was about to leave his young family behind, such help must have been a godsend. Yet, he wanted to talk about something else. He silenced his friend midsentence and, as we all got closer trying to understand his words, he only said, “I love you.”

These experiences shattered my worldview. Until then, I had focused almost exclusively on my academic and career ambitions, at the expense of many other areas. My relationships had suffered the most. I remember myself, as a young adult, wondering which university offered the best doctorate in economics, which city in the world was best to live in, and which next step would be best for my success. My inner dialogues endlessly revolved around these topics, a sad and anxiety-provoking fact that did not register with me back then. It was through my conversations with home hospice patients that I came to notice my inner questions—and it was life-giving for me. I started therapy and began to examine my motivations and goals. A world of curiosity and possibilities opened, including the realization that I found purpose when engaging in questions related to the search for personal meaning. These experiences ultimately led me to become a clinical psychologist.

“Is that all there is?” “Is she the one?” “Which city in the world is best to live in?”—our inner questions have the power of shaping our lives. Left unchecked, these grandiose questions tend to grow into obsessions, impulsive decisions, and impossible pursuits—a recipe for disaster. Hence, we have to become familiar with grandiosity in ourselves and gain some awareness of what we seek. And because grandiosity first emerges in our lives when we are children, this is where our exploration begins.

Notes

1.New York Times, “Climbing Mount Everest.”

2.New York Times, “Climbing Mount Everest.”

Reference

New York Times. “Climbing Mount Everest Is Work for Supermen.” March 18, 1923.

2

Grandiosity in children feeds self-esteem and creativity

Grandiosity is prevalent among children and adolescents. It is not common for a four-year-old to say, “Look at my drawing, my shapeless scribbles. I think they may be good enough for a kid my age.” Most likely, instead, a child who climbs to the top of a jungle gym will scream with exc...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Endorsement
• Title Page
• Copyright Page
• Dedication
• Contents
• Credits
• Acknowledgments
• Introduction
• Part I: Grandiose fantasies and strivings
• Part II: Everything can be hijacked by grandiosity
• Part III: Callings
• Part IV: The courage of our insignificance
• Index