The Inner Fire: Erupting Forces of Psychological Renewal

On the symbol of the volcano and unconscious flows

Vesuvius from Portici by Joseph Wright of Derby

I am a person who is prone to eruptions, overflowing streams of emotional material spilling out with abandon. Sometimes it is fueled by joy, interest, connection. Those who are near feel the intense rays of my excitement, love unfurling and wrapping them in a warm embrace. The world feels different to me in those moments, the sun shines a bit brighter, the colors more vivid and crisp.

Sometimes my eruptions swell from wounded places, fueled by guilt, despair, hopelessness. Those who are near feel this too, storm clouds gather and I am pulled into a darkness that feels inescapable. It permeates from every expression of my being and I can’t help but withdraw forcefully within. The world feels as if it is unraveling, a chaos looms that threatens to destroy all things that I hold dear.

“Complexes have the ability to erupt suddenly and spontaneously into consciousness and to take possession of the ego’s functions. What appears as utter spontaneity, however, may not be so pure. Often there is a subtle triggering stimulus that can be detected if one looks carefully enough into the recent past.”

— Murray Stein, Jung’s Map of the Soul

Lately, I’ve felt caught in a cycle of eruptions, with all sorts of life situations setting things off. Due to many factors coalescing, I think my resilience has been compromised. Lingering postpartum health issues, constant disrupted sleep, the challenges of running your own business, the responsibilities of everyday life…it builds and builds until suddenly, the energy bursts out in a shower of intense emotions and overwhelm.

When I come out of it, I notice my internal dialog, “I do not feel like myself. Why does this keep happening? How can I make it stop?”

Winding discussions in therapy, journaling, pulling cards, all attempts to gain a bit of ground were rendered futile in the face of a psychological energy with the strength and dynamism that I have been facing. After a particularly destabilizing day, I had this dream:

I am standing in a snowy landscape looking up at an erupting volcano. Lava, ash, pieces of earth spew from the crater, but rather than falling destructively to the ground, it hovers around the volcano, held in an invisible forcefield. The lava and ash circle the mountain slowly, it is alive yet contained, burning bright red in an otherwise barren, cold landscape.

Sounds terrifying, right? But the emotion in the dream was anything but! Watching the volcano, I was overcome with awe and wonder. How remarkable to see the forces of nature dancing in front of my eyes, its power on display. The scene was otherworldly and I awoke yearning to capture it, to hold the image in mind so I could remember it for all the rest of my days.

The psyche has a way of shaping dreams, choosing symbols, with such accuracy and finesse that it really astounds me. Yes, I certainly do feel like I am experiencing volcanic explosions coming from deep within nowadays. But I by no means like when it happens, let alone feel an attraction or draw to it. This is where the dream pushes back on my conscious perspective. What if I could view the eruptions as part of the natural order of things? Not as a problem to be solved but as a phenomena to be witnessed.

Mount Etna from Taormina by Thomas Cole

So I began to contemplate volcanoes, their purpose and meaning. The image deepened, and I realized how they serve as portals that link the above and the below. They are destructive forces of creation, carrying the earth’s lifeblood from the core to the surface. Now I was feeling the interest, the pull, the awe.

Perhaps it’s my Sicilian heritage, for we are the children of Mungibeddu, Mt. Etna, and her fiery lava that feeds the soil with her riches. From the volcanic dirt rises lush fields of citrus, olive groves, vineyards, flowers, grasses and herbs. Without her eruptions, would the island be as abundant? Would we ever know what it means to be in close proximity to the inner fire and all it provides?

I think this is an important lesson for me, and perhaps for many others, because when the energy bursts out, when we are overwhelmed with a cascade of emotions and split off parts of self, we are likely to see it as a failure, a defeat, an indication of where we lack integration. But this is also where we meet the unconscious, in a form that can be seen and grappled with. The structures of our ego are rattled, and yes, it often indicates the need for work and tending, but isn’t that the opportunity we long for on the path of individuation? To enter the creative matrix from which new psychological insight and attitudes can be born?

“You cannot put something on a table which is already laden; you must first clear those things away in order to put new ones in their place. And to build a house where an old house stands, you must first destroy the old house. We must go a bit deeper and realize that with the instinct of creation is always connected a destructive something; the creation in its own essence is also destructive.”

— C.G. Jung, “Nietzsche’s Zarathustra: Notes of the Seminar Given in 1934–1939”

Without the inner fire, the psychological landscape can become cold, desolate. Our beliefs become rigid, our defenses ossified, hope and faith for brighter days impossible to conceive. At least, that’s what my dream image depicted. The volcano erupted in a winter’s night, snow covered peak and hills, not a sign of flora or fauna in sight. Interestingly, the dream showed the contents of the eruption caught in an invisible forcefield, not yet sinking into the land, but circling in an eerie dance.

I’m still reflecting on this aspect of the dream. Is the containment good, tempering the intensity so I can view it from afar, so that I can get close without getting burned? Or, is something perhaps hindering the natural process, preventing the generative fire from impregnating the land? I suspect there may be a bit of both at play.

To approach the shadow, to engage the unconscious is no easy task; filled with pitfalls and perils, the chance for growth and success is sometimes equal to the threat of disintegration. It must be done with care and consideration. But if we linger always from a distance, keeping parts of ourself at arm’s length with our rationalizations, denials, quick fixes, well, then we’re likely to never touch the transformative element within.

Eruptions are a part of this season of life, and with my dream’s support, I am finding myself more open and curious when they happen. My hope is that it will lead to a deeper attunement that allows the psychic lands to be cleansed, renewed and re-seeded for a fertile harvest in days to come.

Join the conversation.

I’d love to hear your thoughts, impressions or interpretations of the dream images and ideas shared. Does the image of the volcano stir anything for you? How do you navigate emotional eruptions and renewal?

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