When the soul (the individuation impulse) awakens, we are called to learn a new way of making decisions. Previously, our choices were guided by conventional notions of right and wrong. We knew what was good and what was evil, and we acted accordingly. Yet the awakening of the soul comes with the dissolution of everything to which the earthly ego has clung, everything that has offered it a sense of security and value. In this process, we begin to perceive the limitations of our own perspective. We realise that even if we can distinguish between good and evil, we cannot always discern what truly is for good or leads to harm.
The path does not become easier thereafter, since the development of the soul inevitably follows untrodden paths. Common rules, far from being helpful, can become obstacles, impeding the discovery of our unique, uncharted way. How, then, are decisions to be made?
The Instinct of Truth and the Voice of God
In Jungian analysis, the “instrument” by which the soul guides our choices is called the instinct of truth. It is an inner sense of rightness that transcends the knowing of the ego-mind, felt as a quiet confidence and a sense of alignment with one’s true self. Marie-Louise von Franz likens it to a kind of telepathy, observing that “It knows something we do not; in fact, our unconscious knows it.” She adds,
“That would be a discernment of truth, but on an instinctive level which has nothing to do with the head.” She further notes, “that is why the Holy Ghost has also been called by certain theologians the instinct of truth, which is a very good description.”
Marie-Louise von Franz, “Alchemy: An Introduction to the Symbolism and the Psychology”
Jungian analysts often describe it as the “voice of God,” and in analysis they may encourage the question: “What does God within you want?” And what God calls of us may take forms we do not expect. Marie-Louise von Franz recounts the story of the prophet Hosea, who received a command by God to marry a prostitute.
“Two thousand years later, after he has been canonized as a prophet and since it is in the Holy Scriptures, we cannot doubt that it was God and there it is quite all right. That is God’s paradoxical behaviour. But if that happened nowadays to you, and you went to a colleague and said God had ordered you to marry a prostitute, what would the colleague say? The colleague would probably ask if you are sure it was God, for he thinks God could not give such a command and therefore it could not be God. How would you prove it was God?”
Marie-Louise von Franz, “Alchemy: An Introduction to the Symbolism and the Psychology”
Walking the untrodden path is difficult, for it requires first hearing the inner voice and then taking the risk to follow it. The challenge grows when we begin to see the validity of multiple perspectives, even opposing ones. In such moments, the task is to sense what is true, but only for us, only in this moment, only in this situation. Since, at another moment, the same decision may need to be made again, and then it could be entirely different.
The Instinct of Truth and Intuition
Another important reference point is to distinguish between the “instinct of truth” and “intuition”, because the two are very similar. While both lead to knowledge that transcends logic and rational thought, their purpose differs. Intuition is one of the four functions through which we perceive and process information – alongside sensing, thinking, and feeling – and serves the empirical self, the ego, in its quest for knowledge. By contrast, the instinct of truth is a function of the relationship between consciousness and the archetype of the Self, and as such, serves this higher regulating principle within our psyche.
In other words, while the aim of intuition is knowledge, the aim of the instinct of truth is knowing how to be in harmony with the intentions of the soul. Thus, unlike intuition, which can occasionally mislead us, the instinct of truth is always truthful. It does not reveal its answers immediately; often we must endure long periods of uncertainty before clarity arises from the deepest centre of our being. The earthly self craves the security of mental clarity and grows anxious in its absence, while the divine aspect of ourselves can bear ambiguity until the inner conditions have matured and the answer emerges.
The One Who Asks the Question and the One Who Hears It Are the Same
Some decisions take years to crystallise, such as leaving a job or ending a relationship. One day we resolve, “This is it; I can no longer live with my partner,” or “Tomorrow I will quit my job.” Yet the next day, contrary thoughts arise: “Perhaps I should wait a little longer,” “Maybe there’s something I haven’t done yet,” “Probably things will resolve themselves.” This oscillation may continue for years, leaving us feeling stupid, confused, inferior, indecisive, and weak. We may think that indecision signals something amiss, but what if it is precisely what we need? The awakening of the soul means that the time for development has come. And if development is required, this means that the answer is not yet present in the here and now.
So, the soul begins to search for it. This makes it clear why the swinging between opposites is an expression of the fact that neither of the two available answers in the present carries the solution. And although this may appear utterly barren and even foolish, it is through this very process that the threads are woven which unite the two opposites into something third. And it is this third position that carries the answer: the birth of individuality.
To be unable to hear the instinct for truth is to have not yet created that part of ourselves capable of hearing it. The one who asks questions and the one who hears the answers are two sides of the same coin – the Self. One aspect is the empirical ego; the other, the archetype from which it arises. The dialogue between them is often experienced as intense tension, like being crucified, accompanied by a profound sense of helplessness and agonising pain. To the ego, it may seem wrong, yet this is precisely how the soul grows.
As Marie-Louise von Franz writes:
“The only way the Self can manifest is through conflict: to meet one’s insoluble and eternal conflict is to meet God, which would be the end of the ego with all its blather. That is the moment of surrender, it is the moment where Job says he will put his hand on his mouth and not argue about God… and when the Self appears that is the end of talking. Then the conflict is no longer in the head.
It is the moment where the conflict transcends verbal discussion and becomes an intuitive experience of Oneness behind the two. One is between the right and the left hand; something is secretly one yet it wants to be torn, to suffer, till something happens which is very difficult to grasp and then a switch takes place onto another level. If you let yourself be torn in the conflict, then suddenly you change, you change from the deepest root of your being and the whole thing has another aspect. It is as though you tortured an animal so much that it jumped onto a higher level of realization, and that can come about in very different forms. You can say that it is an aspect of the symbol of the cross, that one has to be crucified utterly and say, as Christ did on the cross: ‘My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?’ And then something happens which outstrips the conflict.”
— Marie-Louise von Franz, “Alchemy: An Introduction to the Symbolism and the Psychology”
I have learnt that hearing the answers to our most important questions takes time, and that time is the true gift. It is the creative process of self-formation. When the moment to make a decision finally comes, it falls into place effortlessly, like a ripe pear dropping to the ground. Patience is the essential condition for hearing the inner voice. And I know that if a decision feels difficult, it is because I am not yet ready. I stand still and wait. I hold the tension between the opposing sides of the conflict, discerning what I am truly choosing between. The ultimate choice is never simply whether to leave a job or partner; it is who I will be and what I will create for myself through these circumstances.
Lifelong Self-Creation
This lifelong self-creation, in Jungian terms, is the “creativity along the axis of interaction between ego and Self.” Even as we learn to hear the voice of the soul more clearly, the trials of creating the part of ourselves that can hear it persist – they become less dramatic, but they do not vanish.
I am reminded of an episode from Jung’s life. A few years before his death, he was invited to write a book following his appearance on a BBC programme. The interview aroused great interest, including that of a major publishing house. The publisher found Jung’s ideas deeply compelling and wished to bring them to a wider audience. He reasoned that the world already knew Freud but did not yet know Jung. For this reason, he asked the journalist who had conducted the interview, John Freeman, to travel to Zurich and ask whether Jung would agree to write such a book.
For two hours Jung listened attentively to the proposal, but in the end, he said “no.” He did not wish to undertake such a project; he felt too old and too tired for it. John Freeman accepted this answer. He knew that when Jung said “no,” it truly meant no.
Soon after this meeting, however, Jung had a dream in which he was speaking to a broad audience, and they genuinely understood him. Through this dream he realised that his refusal had not been the right decision, and that the idea of writing a book to make his work more accessible was, in fact, a good one. In synchrony with this inner shift, the outer situation also changed. The publisher urged Freeman to visit Jung again and, for a second time, ask whether he might reconsider his decision. This time, Jung agreed.
The value of this example lies in the fact that it concerns an extraordinarily conscious individual. Even for Jung, there was no guarantee of arriving immediately at the right decision. When it comes to the process of self-creation, there truly is no such thing as a final point. It is a never-ending process of development and expansion, in which we are again and again required to work through our inner conflicts. Jung’s decision to write this book did not arise at once from the clarity of a single inner feeling or intuition; once more, it had to be endured and suffered into being.
Throughout his life, Jung was heavily criticised, both by theologians and by his professional peers. To witness misunderstanding and distortion of his ideas was part of his daily reality. This left its mark on his style of writing, which was often exceedingly complex and accessible only to a small circle of readers who truly understood what he was saying. By the end of his life, however, circumstances had changed. An ever-growing number of people were drawn to his psychology. And because the times had changed, he, too, had to change.
When we understand that there is no final destination, and that what is truly valuable is the process of walking the path itself, we become better able to endure the uncertainty and discomfort of our inner conflicts. It enables openness to the new, humility regarding the limits of our perspective, and tolerance for what initially appears wrong. While striving toward clarity and the light of day, we must also remain connected to the twilight and ambiguity of night, for therein lie the gifts of tolerance, openness, non-judgment, and continual growth.
Only then can we truly appreciate Lao Tzu’s words: “All are clear, I alone am clouded.”
Kameliya Hadzhiyska
