“To be born into precisely this body, from precisely these parents, in precisely this place – and all the so-called external circumstances – all these events are interwoven and ordained by the Moirai.”
–Plotinus
According to James Hillman, a human being’s destiny is shaped by a unique inner image that we carry within us from the moment of birth and then embody throughout life in much the same way that a small acorn grows into an oak tree. This theory of human development, presented in his book The Soul’s Code, is essentially the theory of individuation as we know it from Jung. Hillman simply articulates it with remarkable beauty.
He challenges the dominant psychological theories according to which the primary factors shaping our future development are (1) the genes we inherit from our parents and (2) the family and social environment in which we grow up. According to Hillman, far more powerful than these life circumstances is (3) something else – something we carry within us as innate psychic potential and predisposition even before birth. In other words, it is our unique and unrepeatable soul image, our divine spirit.
One of the many pieces of evidence supporting this claim is the simple fact that children born and raised under identical family conditions often turn out to be profoundly different. There is something, Hillman argues, that lies beyond upbringing and lineage, and that something is what truly matters in the formation of character. It exists beyond matter, and the fact that it has not yet been proven is not proof that it does not exist.
“The acorn theory offers a very simple explanation. It says this: your daimon chose both the egg and the sperm, as well as their carriers, called ‘parents’. Their union is the result of the necessity for you to come into the world, not the other way around. Does this not help us understand impossible marriages, mutual antipathies, ill-matched couples, sudden pregnancies and abrupt separations in so many parental biographies, especially those of exceptional individuals?
The couple comes together not for their own sake, but to conceive a singular individual endowed with a singular acorn – you.”
James Hillman, The Soul’s Code, p. 87
If we truly accept such a perspective, we are instantly freed from all the accusations we may still harbor toward our parents, and a new question opens up: how did they, being exactly as they were, contribute to the shaping of our acorn?
One of the examples Hillman gives from the lives of extraordinary individuals is György Lukács, the well-known Marxist writer and critic, who throughout his life had deep conflicts with his mother. Many psychotherapeutic schools would interpret his relationship with her as an unresolved mother complex, since even in the final year of his life he failed to achieve reconciliation. The acorn theory, however, offers a different interpretation.
“The acorn theory, of course, considers the mother necessary to genius: he needs an enemy within the walls representing precisely those values that the daimon detests. ‘From an early age I was guided by feelings of strong opposition’ (Lukács).”
(p. 96)
This is a radically different perspective. It does not concern itself with fixing the mother relationship as if something had gone wrong. Instead, it seeks to understand the unique way in which family factors were destined to participate in shaping the individual’s character and fate.
Through this and many other examples from the lives of notable figures, Hillman illustrates his thesis that the form a mother-child relationship takes is the specific way in which the Mother archetype participates in shaping the unique acorn.
According to him, the exaggerated role assigned to mothers is an expression of what philosopher Alfred North Whitehead called misplaced concreteness – a situation in which the abstract and the concrete are not sufficiently distinguished. The biological mother is merely a representative of the broader Mother archetype, and the intense focus on “the mother” should be directed toward the archetype rather than its first representative in our lives – our biological mother.
Hillman summarizes a series of examples involving remarkable individuals by stating:
“To discover their vocation, McClintock and Millay needed solitude, and Tina (Turner) needed neglect. Their acorns clearly chose unloving mothers in order to provide the right environment for these little girls.”
(p. 99)
And this applies no less to fathers.
The practical implication of accepting the acorn theory is that we must follow what the unfolding of the acorn demands of us – even if this leads to misunderstanding and rejection by others. Since the acorn is that “personal daimon, guide and companion who never forgets the call of the person,” if we become frightened and choose not to follow its call, we invite even greater difficulties and complications into our lives. The ways in which it reminds us of itself are many.
“The “reminders” of the daimon manifest in countless ways.
It is motivating and protective, inventive, persistent, and faithful in its insistence.
It resists reasonable compromises and often pushes us toward deviations and oddities, especially when we neglect or oppose it.
It can console us and hide us within its shell, but it cannot tolerate innocence.
It is capable of making the body ill.
It disregards time, finds all kinds of flaws, gaps, and entanglements in the flow of life – and prefers them.
It has a taste for myth, because it is itself a mythic being and thinks mythically.
The daimon is immortal, never leaves us, and cannot be destroyed by murderous explanations. It is closely linked to the feeling of uniqueness and greatness, to the restlessness of the heart – its impatience, dissatisfaction, and longing.
It insists on its share of beauty.
It wants to be seen, witnessed, and acknowledged – especially by the person to whom it was given.
It lands slowly and takes off quickly.
It cannot free itself from its supernatural calling, existing simultaneously in lonely exile and in harmony with the universe.
Its first language is metaphorical imagery, which provides the poetic foundation of the mind and makes communication between all beings and things possible through metaphor.
The Soul’s Code, pp. 55–60
Thus, the acorn from which we were born is extraordinary, and part of that extraordinariness is that the tree growing from it “grows downward.” This is the difficult part: the more our tree grows downward, the harder it becomes, because the form our spirit begins to inhabit grows ever denser and more constrained.
This tree is the Tree of Life, whose roots are in heaven and whose crown is on Earth. According to the Zohar – the Kabbalistic text Hillman cites – the soul does not wish to descend and entangle itself in the world, because descent is difficult.
“When the Holy One, blessed be He, was about to create the world, He resolved to fashion all the souls that were to be given in due time to the children of men, and to assign to each soul the exact form of the body it was destined to inhabit… And now go, descend to this place, into this body.
Often the soul replied: ‘Master of the world, I am content to remain in this realm and do not wish to go to another where I shall be enslaved and defiled.’
To this the Holy One, blessed be He, replied: ‘From the day you were created, your destiny has been to go into that world.’
Then the soul, realizing that it could not disobey, descended reluctantly into this world.”
The Soul’s Code, p. 64
When I read these words, I picture a soul gripping the gates of heaven with both hands and both feet, refusing to jump with a parachute down to Earth. It does not like the idea of landing in such a narrow, constrained, and insecure place – where, on top of everything else, the impact will cause total amnesia about its origin, and it will forget that there is nothing to fear. To make matters more interesting, it will also lose all instructions about the rules of the game and remain deeply confused for a long time. The only thing left will be a desire, hidden deep within the human heart. Until one learns to hear it and dares to follow it, there will be much suffering. In short – unpleasant.
I don’t know how it is for other souls parachuted from heaven, but for me, for a long time, the Holy One, blessed be He, was not blessed at all. My arguments with Him gradually faded only after much reading, when I began to suspect that I was, in fact, arguing with myself. At that point I decided not to waste any more time on empty talk and informed my dissatisfied part that I, as the Creator – blessed be I – must have had something in mind when incarnating on Earth, but for now would remain meaningfully silent.
Now I think that perhaps the Holy One did have a sense of humor. And even if not, it is in itself a blessing not to take falling from heaven too seriously – it helps greatly with the landing. As for my acorn, sometimes nothing else helps it continue its descent.
Kameliya Hadzhiyska
Note: The quotations are translated from Bulgarian and are not presented as verbatim citations.
